Dear Jay,
I sat down to write you several days ago and I couldn't. It's strange how things ebb and flow. Writing to you was so cathartic and necessary for several weeks. The other day, though, I just couldn't open myself up to write. Sometimes I fight my emotions especially when I'm at work or out somewhere, and sometimes I embrace them, because I need that release. But the other day, really many days recently, that part of me is shut down- a self-preservation of sorts. I'm not closed off to all emotions, but taking a time out from the grief. I don't know if that's a stage of grief or just my mind's way of coping. Either way, it's been both necessary and good.
I learned, I mean really learned, and came to understand some very important truths in the past month. I don't know if that's a result of my break from grieving, or just part of that "time sort of heals all wounds" business. When you first passed, it felt really important to have your cremains physically with me. I could not handle the idea of you being somewhere else particularly since I wasn't ready to let you go. I'm still not, I never will be, but I'm accepting that's not a choice I get to make. Now though, I feel as if you are always with me. Maybe that's why I don't need to write you as often. You know what's on my mind, and in my heart, because you're always here and I'm always talking to you. I understand your physical body is no longer here, and your soul is just in the "next room" so to speak. I see your beautiful spirit in the girls every day. I carry part of it with me, too. There's a great deal of peace that comes with that knowledge.
The other thing I not only understand, but actually believe now, is that we are not alone. People have been telling me we'll never be alone since this whole different life started. The reality is not many people can actually fathom the grief of a woman that lost her partner and true love in life, and that made me feel alone. There is still a deep sadness, questions of why, and a longing for you that will never leave me. Despite that, I don't feel alone anymore. That's a powerful feeling. Grief isn't swallowing me up, just nipping at me, which I expect to last until we meet again.
I love you. I miss you always.
Yours,
Courtney
I sat down to write you several days ago and I couldn't. It's strange how things ebb and flow. Writing to you was so cathartic and necessary for several weeks. The other day, though, I just couldn't open myself up to write. Sometimes I fight my emotions especially when I'm at work or out somewhere, and sometimes I embrace them, because I need that release. But the other day, really many days recently, that part of me is shut down- a self-preservation of sorts. I'm not closed off to all emotions, but taking a time out from the grief. I don't know if that's a stage of grief or just my mind's way of coping. Either way, it's been both necessary and good.
I learned, I mean really learned, and came to understand some very important truths in the past month. I don't know if that's a result of my break from grieving, or just part of that "time sort of heals all wounds" business. When you first passed, it felt really important to have your cremains physically with me. I could not handle the idea of you being somewhere else particularly since I wasn't ready to let you go. I'm still not, I never will be, but I'm accepting that's not a choice I get to make. Now though, I feel as if you are always with me. Maybe that's why I don't need to write you as often. You know what's on my mind, and in my heart, because you're always here and I'm always talking to you. I understand your physical body is no longer here, and your soul is just in the "next room" so to speak. I see your beautiful spirit in the girls every day. I carry part of it with me, too. There's a great deal of peace that comes with that knowledge.
The other thing I not only understand, but actually believe now, is that we are not alone. People have been telling me we'll never be alone since this whole different life started. The reality is not many people can actually fathom the grief of a woman that lost her partner and true love in life, and that made me feel alone. There is still a deep sadness, questions of why, and a longing for you that will never leave me. Despite that, I don't feel alone anymore. That's a powerful feeling. Grief isn't swallowing me up, just nipping at me, which I expect to last until we meet again.
I love you. I miss you always.
Yours,
Courtney
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