The last page.

I have decided to end this blog. This is the entry I will make here. If you have been reading, I hope I have helped by sharing my process with you. We all have the strength within us to move our lives forward. I wish peace to everybody who has ever been left behind by a loved one and suffered the raging throes of grief. May you find the strength within yourself to overcome someday soon. Happiness awaits each and every one of us.

I have entered into rewrites of the content of this blog and when I am finished and satisfied that my writings accurately reflect my journey of the past three years, I am going to seek to get them published.

So without further adieu, I give you my last entry.

I’m done.

I have made a decision to stop putting grief in the lead. From now on, I’m going to be in the lead.

I want to move on. I want to say goodbye to Chris. I’m tired and I’m ready to start the goodbye process.

I feel so much better about Carol’s new relationship. I have hated these past few weeks of grief responses. I am a different person now.

I sat on the floor in front of my full-length mirror this evening, trying to see all the way into my own soul, through my eyes. I kept repeating, “I am not Christopher J. Burrage wife, anymore. I am not married to Christopher J. Burrage. We are not a couple. It’s over. That story is all a part of my past.” I uttered the serenity prayer until it made sense. I can’t control what has already happened. I can change what’s left, though, as long as I can tell the difference between what I can and cannot control.

This week, I took every picture of Chris off of my walls and placed them into some special photo albums I bought. Each one of the books is labeled. Remember. Reminisce. Reflect. Those titles are perfect. I am going to bring them to Clay Thursday night so he can flip through them. It’s just another way for me to begin saying goodbye to my life with Chris and a life imprisoned within my grief.

I’m going to bring the “us” box to Clay’s, too, and go through it in his office. the “us” box is a box of almost every movie, concert or event ticket that Chris and I went to, every greeting card we sent to each other, the flowers from the wreath I wore on my head on our wedding day and other such contents. Chris saved all of it. I used to make fun of him and he would say, “One day you’ll be glad the “us” box is here.” He was right. I am glad.

I deleted Chris’ e-mail address from my contacts yesterday, finally. I had been keeping it there so I could hold onto him, even though it hurt to see it every time I opened up my address book. I deleted the phone numbers of his friends in Vermont from my cellphone. I don’t think I have ever called any of them, anyway. I still have their e-mail addresses for when I want to say hello to them. I realized that every time I scrolled through my phone numbers and saw theirs in the list, I was instantly brought back to that day in the hospital corridor when I had to robotically call each one of his and my friends to tell them they were sending Chris home to die. That day was the saddest day of my life. So the phone numbers are gone now, and I can begin to heal that part of me and put that horrid memory in my past, where it belongs.

It feels so good not to be upset over Carol and Josh’s relationship. I had come to realize that with every little thing Carol shared with me about how sweet he is I was tripping back in time and reliving meeting Chris. She and Josh are experiencing all of the wonderful things Chris and I experienced at the beginning of our relationship. I was never mad at Carol or jealous of what she now has. I am, in fact, so very happy that she has finally found happiness and love. I was just panicking about my loss over and over and over with each wonderful act of Josh’s. But I am not going to do that anymore. Instead, I am going to celebrate for them and know that I will have love in my own life again some day.

I feel a bit like a dove being released into the air. I want to soar, again. I want to feel air and wind and freedom, again.

I think the healing began with my brief relationship with Marc. I liked being with him. Being out on a Friday night with a man felt really nice, even if that man wasn’t the right man for me.

I’m studying psychology. I’m singing. I’m enjoying success in my work. I’m letting go of anger. I’m submitting to the reality of the situation and realizing that it wasn’t my fault, that I’m not being punished by God and that I have power to bring my life in whichever direction I choose.

I am excited about my future, I am excited about the present and the past is the past.
I couldn’t stop what was happening from happening then any more than I can stop it now. What’s done is done. Chris is dead. I am not his wife. He is not my husband, anymore. I am a single woman whose poor husband got cancer and died.

I feel a sense of relief. I can breathe, again. I can focus on what’s important in the here and now and stop wasting so much precious time on useless tears and pointless wishes.

What I had with Chris was the most precious thing i have ever experienced in my life. I am so lucky to have met, fallen in love and helped him into the next realm. I was married. I did that. We did that. From now on I am going to remind myself whenever I need to that it really is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.

I am afraid, but I am more ready than scared to step into my future, bravely. This part of my journey is coming to a close.

I love you Creej. I loved you before we met and I will love you long after I die.

Love.

Shneed.