It is hard to believe how much love I am surrounded by sometimes. Especially since we don't talk much about my issues at school. Not that I want to, I do not! Most of the time. But that is where I am most of the time, and I often feel adrift and disconnected. I suppose those are mostly coming from inside me and from feelings of insecurity and loss related to other places and times in my life. Todaya, some of the lovely ladies from UUCF will bring by the quilts they made for us from John's t-shirts. That is a venture which John has been dreaming about since I first realized what a CRAZY amount of t-shirts he had, back in 2003...I am so excited to see them!!
It is interesting, too, how people reacted to my last blog. It is as if each entry becomes the only thing I am, and all I will ever be to some people. I suppose most of them don't know, realize, or remember all that I have already lived through. I am not one to toot my own horn, but I have been fighting since I was about 15 to figure out how to get through hard things without becoming hard myself. Or at least without becoming only hard, too hard. Which meant that I would be open to all the lovely, sweet things, too. Unlike my grandmother, who had found a way to live through some horrible things, but was awkward and uncomfortable with hugs, saying "I love you", and showing kindness to her family in general. That also means I chose, for some of my defenses, the more painful route. I chose not to build walls, but to forge through the fire.
I was talking with Gordan as he was doing my tattoo. He and Kelly have a business, I think he said, that centers on the way that pushing your body to and through extremes can bring a person peace, enlightenment, solace...his examples were about shaman walking over hot coals, dancing for incredibly extended hours up to, into, and beyond exhaustion...I don't claim to be a shaman, or to even be searching for shamanic wisdom. It just felt right. It felt good, and solid, painful and powerful all at once. I found this article that spoke to my heart and will show those of you who think my choice to get a tattoo was childish and immature that no, it was healing, positive, empowering, painful in a way that imparted peace...
Everyone's journey through grief is different. Remember, you shouldn't judge what helps a person heal. You can express love, support, concern...if you want to help your friend, open your heart and mind. I have started my grieving journey while my husband is still here. I don't know if that is good or bad, but it is what it is. Some days will be angry, some sad, some lost, some strong. But I know I am on a journey and that it won't be done for a long time. I also know that I trust myself to reach out to all those amazing people who have shown the truly care when I need it. I know I am stronger than even I have ever known. I know I will fight to have the right to feel each and every step of this because that is to only way to come out the other side willing and able to love again. I watched my mother and grandmother spend solitary lives. Neither lost a husband to death, but they lost them nonetheless. And they never dated again. They never tried to find love. John has already given me his permission to not live their lives...I made sure to ask because I love him so much, I needed to hear from his own mouth that he didn't want that for me. But no matter what path I choose or who I end up loving later, they have to know that John was my first true and real love. He is the father of my babies, and no matter how much I might love whoever comes next, they will not replace him- not for my nor for our children. If this imaginary he who exists in the future expects to get close, he will respect and love me for that dedication. I believe our hearts are capable of great love, and that there is more than one true love for us out there. I also know how hard it can be to try to find that love, which is what scares me. Do not, however, assume my fear and pain are signs of weakness. That would be a mistake.
For me, anyway, ignore the pain, block the light