Week 51 and the weight of the year

I seem to be back on grief’s rollercoaster and a lot of this week has been tough. My sense of hope seems to have diminished. One day that started really gloomily actually turned out very positively – it helped that the sun was shining, whereas there were others that I thought would be good but I just couldn’t pull myself out of the mire, despite the sun. But it’s Saturday and I have got through it, though that sounds such a terrible way to live, I wish it wasn’t thus.

I have noticed this week that I have been reluctant to go to bed and I wondered why, as I thought I had been sleeping okay. Then I realised, I get into bed and the grief hits me again, whatever my day has been like. My thoughts turn to B, and the fact that I miss him so much, and sometimes my brain will start to replay things no matter how hard I try to stop it. I still read and this does distract me but if I stop, unlike previously, the thoughts just come flooding back. So, I either continue to read and fall half-asleep with the light on or I feel miserable, and I don’t like crying before I go to sleep. I have also noticed that, on the whole, I am crying much less despite the days feeling grey and heavy, but I now wonder whether the price for this is that my grief just waits to pour itself out at night.

I am looking forward (?) to the end of January when, hopefully, the weight of the new year and the looming anniversary of B’s death will no longer play on my mind. The anniversary really does seem impossible to avoid.

The other evening, just before bed, I wrote this. I didn’t spend any time on it (perhaps you can tell, I’m not a poet!), but this is what it feels like.

One year

One year,
Twelve whole months,
Three hundred and sixty-five days, and counting.
How can it possibly be so long since you were here?
It is unimaginable, and yet it is true, this strange reality.

Twelve months since you held me,
Twelve months since I heard your voice,
Twelve months of living without you. How is that even possible?
It is unreal, and yet it is true.

I can no longer say “my husband died this year”,
My loss is no longer new,
And yet the heartache remains real.
It is both yesterday and forever since you were here.

I try to be happy when I think of you,
Think of us,
And yet, the happy memories just remind me of your absence.
How long am I going to hurt?

I know it is normal; there is no time limit to grief.
I want it to end, but how can I?
If it ends it means I am alright without you,
How can that ever be?
And yet, that is what you would want for me,
Of that I am sure.

So, I try to remember that with a new year comes hope and promise.
And I try to trust in my future,
Although it is unfathomable without you.
I will live, but I will remember.
I will grow, but you will always be a part of me.
How can you not?
I am shaped by you and all we had together.
That will always be ours, and it can never be taken away,
Whatever new joys or tribulations my future holds.

Sometimes, though, this all feels a stretch too far,
So, I continue to trudge on, one foot in front of the other