You know when you're pregnant, getting to 24 weeks is a momentous occasion. When you're a widow, however, the vast array of emotions conceived, on week 24, is far from something worthy of celebration. Saturday nights have become a night for me to relive his last night on this earth by memory. I know....you're thinking "Quit drowning in misery, already."
Easier said than done. Here I sit, another Saturday night/Sunday morning, wide awake, with thoughts of phone calls from a hospital that I wish to God I could have been at with him, 24 weeks ago.
At 24 weeks, losing him is still the first thought on my mind, when I open my eyes every morning, and the last thing that I think about before finding sleep again, at night. This does not always come with sadness, though. The farther out I've gotten, the less that sadness follows my thoughts of him. Still, there are moments. I think I'll forever have those moments.
The Anger phase. Ugh. I hate every phase that comes. This one hit me without warning, like all the rest of them have.
My son was reading a news report about the current status of Covid in our state, yesterday. While I should have been relieved at what he was reading aloud, all I could think about was how I wish Darrell could have made it to this point. I felt myself getting really angry that he caught it during the surge of one extremely aggressive variant, mere months before mask mandates are being lifted and the world is becoming cautiously optimistic that an end is possibly in sight. Angry that he will forever be a number in a death toll that will, someday, be read about in history books. Angry that he'll never see our children become adults. Angry that I'm raising them alone. Angry that, for 24 weeks, I've slept in this bed without him.
I felt a change happen, this past month. You really discover so much about your small world when you experience intense grief. Everyone responds to how to deal with you and your intense grief, differently. The noise stops after two weeks into widowhood. And that's okay. I can't imagine if it continued, honestly. But...the people who stick around, after that, just to make sure you know you are constantly thought of and loved, those people are my soul people. I have been blessed with a few. To those few, thank you for allowing me to talk about my grief as much as I need to. Thank you for not making me feel as if I'm taking too long to process my loss. Thank you for not having ANY expectations of me, whatsoever. Thank you for granting me undeserved allowance when I fall short. Thank you for praying with and for me. Thank you for making me laugh. Thank you for not making me feel crazy. Thank you for helping me to not feel so alone in this super crappy world. I'm so blessed to have you.
In other news, I had a dinner date with three of my babes. Mexican at our favorite local joint, per their request. They make my world go round. I'm so thankful God made me a mama to many.
Relishing in His goodness...
Christy
