It was a strange day. I don't like the idea that how I am feeling should be dictated by the calendar. I think I do find the lead up to difficult dates particularly hard. I tend to feel sort of hamstrung and unable to do things. It's a relief when it's over. And on the morning of the 17th my mind did turn with great clarity to some pretty difficult memories. But I was treated with such lovely tender care by those around me and it was nice to have that acknowledgement. There are other days of such fragility that are nothing on the calendar, but noone knows when they are, and the special care on special days can be remembered in the in-betweens. And I wouldn't really want to be treated like an eggshell every day.
It was hard to know how to mark the day, we couldn't really do an exact repeat of last year. But we had to do something. I bought some flowers and lay them on the grave, and while a friend played guitar we each took a stem and put it in a vase on the headstone. It felt like the right thing to do.
I was somehow both stunned and numbed at the sight of our children playing with the flowers as they sat upon Kent's grave. It was the most unbelievable and incomprehensible thing. They enjoyed the flowers and the little guy enjoyed making sure everyone had a turn. But when I cried a little behind my sunglasses they both left other various family members and came over to me, popping down on my knee and sitting quietly for a long time while I held on tight. I asked later and learnt that they had both chosen to come on their own, noone had suggested it. They saw me, and came.
It's hard, really hard, going in to the third year. I've read quite often about the second year. Everyone seems to like to say how noone talks about the second year, and how all the support comes in the first and you feel lonelier in the second. But never have I ever read anything about the third year. It seems to just be lumped in to "the rest of your life," and that's pretty tough.
I want to say something, but I have no idea what the words are. I just cannot imagine the pain you have to feel. You appear to cope with such strength and grace, many times I have wondered (doubted) if I would cope as well as you in your shoes. And the amazing job you are doing with those beautiful children, well, there is no way Kent could fail to be proud. Much love and thoughts of strength. xxx
ReplyDeleteThank you so much, you're so lovely. Often enough I just don't cope at all, but the days seem to continue anyway and I try to choose to manage. See you soon. x
DeleteI found year two was a time of reality sinking in...hard. Year three was a bit 'keep on keeping on'. An odd place to be I think, having come to some acceptance about how life has changed, yet still never feeling like grief is too far away. It's coming up to five years for me, and I can say that I am in a happier place than I would have ever thought possible back then....keep on keeping on, it can be such hard work I know xx
ReplyDeleteThanks Becs, that's so encouraging. It's hard to believe it can get so much better but also hard to believe you have to feel like this forever! I'll keep going. x
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