Living, dying, or something in between

On April 20th it will be three years since Brian died. This time three years ago we had already been living in hospice house - living, no, we were alive there, but not living - we were dying. I am so sad; so alone in my pain. I am surviving, but not living. Without Brian There is nobody that understands and knows me. I live in this horrible solitude of pain, and while its jagged edges aren't as treacherous as they used to be, it's weight is slowly killing me.

Rage

I went to see my grief counsellor today. I see her every week, but needed an extra appointment today. I'm feeling so alone, angry and hopeless. I just can't seem to turn it around lately.

On the ground level of her building there is a small cafe, and when I walked in there was a family sitting there eating. I would recognize that beautiful woman and her magnificent hair anywhere - it was Brian and my favorite nurse from when we were still in the hospital. I excused myself for interrupting their supper, saying that she probably didn't remember me and mentioning my name. She jumped up and hugged me. I knew she would remember us. She only worked on weekends, and we always requested her to be our nurse.

And it all came rushing through the cracks in the dam that I put up to hold back the pain. In a week when I have been struggling so hard to keep it together, it all became too much - all the kindness we were shown during that horrific time. There was so much support then.

I guess when the dam crumbles it is good to be at the therapist's office. The rush of pain didn't surprise me, but the anger did. I am so angry! At everyone except Brian. I am so angry at a world that thinks that I could possibly ok, that I am weak or self indulgent. I am emotional - I often give into tears, but I am not weak! I am a survivor. I have been through losses that many couldn't endure. Nobody besides Brian knows or ever knew some of the challenges I have survived. Maybe if they did people wouldn't treat me like a silly child. I am so angry. I am carrying so much rage and I can't let it go because there is no longer anyone who can help bear the load.

I am so utterly alone in my pain and my grief, and I think that this is how it will always feel.

Tired

I haven't written in a long time because I'm tired. I'm tired of being a widow. I'm tired of feeling loss. I'm tired of wishing for what was. I think that mostly, though, I'm tired of pretending. I'm tired of pretending that life is ok. I'm tired of smiling to make other people more comfortable. I'm tired of facing challenges alone. I'm tired of having nobody to share accomplishments with. Sometimes just getting through the day is an accomplishment that deserves recognition.

I'm tired of being alone.

My eye hurts. I started a new treatment that sucks, and I hate that I have to navigate it alone. I had an injection yesterday that left my eye burning for hours and that has my eye still hurting tonight. Brian used to take me to my injections. He knew this hurt and terrified me, and he always supported me so that I could be strong or weak. Now it is hard to be strong because I can't be weak. I have nobody to offer their strength.

In less than a month it will be three years since he has been gone. A lot has changed. I'm learning to live in this emptiness that has become my life. I'm learning to move forward even though I want to go back. But I know that the best of my life is behind me, and moving forward just moves me further from the life that was.

I'm tired of this life.