New Years Day 2013. We knew Brian was seriously ill - we didn't yet know how grave things were and how drastically everything we knew was about to change. But he was here, and we were together, and we had the kind of love that survives and conquers everything - except cancer.
New Years Day 2014. Today felt endless, raw, and unbearably oppressive. Today starts a new year during which there will be no new memories created with Brian. A year in which he won't be part of the living world. A year in which he does not exist outside of memory.
I have received so many heartfelt wishes for a better year. A year without loss, a year of renewed health, a year of accomplishment and growth, and I thought "how could this year possibly be anything but better?". 2013 was so horrific on so many levels.
Rationally I know that I will survive the memories and the painful anniversaries. I know that I will start to build a new normal, and that that new normal will eventually feel OK. I know that there will be laughter, joy and celebrations. I also know that Brian's absence from those celebrations will be painful. He won't be there in September to dance with his niece at her wedding. He won't be here for birthdays or anniversaries, or Tuesdays. I have to learn to live without him. I have to learn to contain this pain so that I am not crippled by it.
How do you do that? How do you look to the future knowing that the best of your life is in the past. How do you let go of the pain and allow the love to shape the future when the lover is gone?
I'm 50 years old, and I know nothing. I need to relearn everything I thought I knew. I need to learn to love and trust in myself the way he loved and trusted me. I need to be there for my friends and loved ones. I need to learn to live without him, and it is the hardest challenge I may ever face.
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