Full Shneed Where?

The weekend has passed before my eyes and I spent both days nursing a common cold, sleeping and resting. Being alone for two days in a row, for twenty-four hours a day has caused me to delve deep within myself and come to some realizations.

I miss Chris. That’s not the realization. That’s the seed. I have spent the past year, mostly the past six months running away from my grief, trying to rebuild a life that is not yet ready to be rebuilt. I have not yet given myself ample time to lay a new foundation. Instead I have latched onto the idea that I want to put it all back together again the way that it was, me, the wife and a new man to play husband. I have spent hours, days and months panicking about the fact that I’m getting older and that I don’t have much time to regain everything I have lost. I have spent a year angry about my loss, and I don’t believe that anger has even come close to being fully realized, yet.

I don’t want a new man. I want Chris back. I don’t want a husband. I want Chris. I don’t want to go on a date with some guy from the internet. I just want Chris. Do you see what I mean? I’m not ready. If I was ready, I would be open, but I’m not open. I’m shut tighter than a bank vault.

I believe that things happen for specific reasons and that there are guiding spirits all around us to help us if we remain open to their help. I have always believed that. I told Chris that I was certain his grandfather was around us helping him through his illness. Chris didn’t believe that, but I did and I always told him it was true. I think he finally realized it seconds before he died. He looked at me and said, “Ah---” right before he died. I think he was trying to tell me that Abada was there (his grandfather’s nickname). I think Chris knew that in the seconds leading up to his last breath and I think he went peacefully and that he wasn’t alone.

Of all days for me to catch a common cold, why this past Friday, when I had a date scheduled with somebody I don’t even know? I have to ponder that. I wasn’t supposed to go. That’s what I believe. If I was supposed to go, I would have gotten sick Saturday instead of Friday. I’m going to tell Internet Guy that I’m not ready. I have been completely honest with him and I’m going to be honest this time, too. The timing is wrong. It’s all wrong.

What I have begun to realize in the past two days is that it’s going to be a long, long time before I’m ready to release my grip on the past. It’s okay. If that’s the worst thing that happens to me between Chris’ death and the end of my life, then my life isn’t too bad.

I have been running away and filing up every single moment of my time with activities and people. Aside from my family and friends, those people and activities have been noise that I have turned up to drown out my grief. I didin’t want to feel it. Who does? I’m thankful that I only filled my life up with those things and not more dangerous things. All in all, I think I just may come out of this with a few scratches. Not yet, though. It’s not time for me to done with it, yet.

There’s a forum on the internet called youngwidow.com that I had visited quite a bit when Chris first died, but I hadn’t been there for a very long time. Today I went back. I interacted with a woman who shared her own story with me. She helped me open up. She told me about a group of us young widows in the Boston area who get together periodically for dinner and invited me to join them next time. I’m going to.

For so long I have fought to deny that I’m a widow. I hate that word. I don’t want to be one. I never dreamed I would be. As a result, I had grown into a pattern of hating all groups having to do with widows and in effect, I deprived myself of a key part of my healing process. I need to embrace my situation and dive in. I often prattle on about how I want to help others. I can help others by helping myself and later on, others who have gone through losing a spouse at a young age. God knows, there are new widows and widowers created every single day. Just visit the forum if you want to see for yourself. Every day somebody else is screaming for someobody to tell them it’s all just a bad dream.

I’m supposed to help people who are going through what I have already been through. I can’t do that until I get through it, myself. I want to be living proof that a person can survive. I’m not proof, yet. I’m only just beginning my journey. I have a responsibility to myself to move through it willingly and heal so that I can then help others to heal.

No more talk of men for me. No more trying to “pop” a man into the role of husband for me. No more talk of dating, of having to put it all back together before I’m old. I’m not going to be forty and never have been married. I have already been married. It doesn’t matter. It’s not important. What’s important is that I got to enjoy the bliss of a wonderful marriage to my best friend and soul mate. I don’t need to patch it up with a less-than-ample replacement husband. I’m not looking anymore. I’m just going to live and grieve and see what happens.

I just may find that beauty and fulfillment will come find me, again and that I can help at least one other person feel strong and able to overcome.

What happens when the one person in your life whose pride in you constantly propelled you forward dies? Do you stop moving forward? Do you stop trying to be your best? Do you resign yourself to the thought that without that person's active pride in you, that you'll quit trying?

I have misprepresented myself titling this blog “Full Shneed Ahead”. I have been going full Shneed around for too long. It’s time to live up to my title.

Shneed.

Strangely, just seconds after I posted this, the song, “Do I Love You Because You’re Beautiful” from the musical, “Cinderella” came on the Music Choice Show Tunes channel.

The lyrics in the song are:

Do I love you because you’re beautiful
Or are you beautiful because I love you.

and

Do I want you because you’re wonderful
Or are you wonderful because I want you?

Strange, huh?

Shneed