The Other Side

June 23, 2023

Tomorrow marks the second year since Lynette's passing. You'd think that with the five years she was sick, plus the past two years, I wouldn't still be in a state of shock, but I am.

When you promise to spend the rest of your life with someone, you anticipate growing old together. When that doesn't happen, you're faced with growing old alone. You wonder who's going to take care of you when it's your turn.

The thing about loss and grief is that there is no destination. At first, you believe there's "another side" that you'll wind up on in time. That after a while, you'll be able to look back and say you've made it to the other side. But there is no other side to grief. It becomes part of yourself. As I like to put it, another patch on the colorful quilt that is my life.

This isn't the first time I've been widowed. My first husband died of suicide when I was just 18, with a two week-old baby. He was all of 22. That was hard for different reasons than what I experience now. And although we were divorced, I felt the loss of my second husband a few years ago.

No more partners. I can't go through this again.

I hardly noticed the first anniversary of Lynette's death last year, because I purposely didn't keep track of what day it was. I was still a mess, and reverberating from the recent deaths of a number of lifelong friends. This year feels different, though. I've gotten back on my feet, and I don't cry anymore. Usually.

I'm determined that this shall be the last post on grief for a while. There's so much more I want to write about. Check back!