Through My Eyes

The things that I tell, the stories I write, the life I now live, are through what my heart perceives, what my ears hear, what my eyes see, what my soul knows. Part of my telling is from the hearts of others who grieve. Pieces of their lives are woven into the story of my life because we have a bond, a bond of sorrow. Outsiders do not understand this bond and that is such a hard thing to learn. It does not matter how often you explain it, bring it to light, it is like hitting a brick wall until one day, you tell the story no more. It becomes part and parcel of your heart, everyday living, how you live in this world. I tell you about this life as seen through my eyes, my experiences and find you have acted in these scenes too. We have sorrow, respect and compassion for each other because we know too much. We know the deepest hurt the world can deal out, the loss of our loved ones.

It took a long time to realize that death was not the end, but a beginning so terrible that it was not worth contemplating. To come to the realization that grief does not run it course but stays like an unwanted guest. Outsiders become tired of our grief in very short order. I think that is why they disappear so quickly when the funeral is over. We become tired of it but we do not have the luxury of running away. We have to live every single second of it, sometimes over and over again. In time, we hide it from those outside just to give them ease. It is then that they mistakenly think we have moved on that we are okay. I think they need to believe that because they know that someday, it will be them. It is no wonder they get angry when we are still grieving long after they have decided we should be past it. I do pity them the truth they do not want to know, but also think maybe it is for the best. If they knew the truth of this, actually knew it, they would not be able to move on into tomorrow.

It's sad that if we show our grief after a certain amount of time, outsiders become very threatened. They tell us it is not healthy to still be grieving, that we are hurting others in our grief. They tell us we need therapy, we need help, we are sick. Yeah, the list goes on. We actually start to wonder if it is true. It's not. Grief can be forever. That is not our decision, it is what it is. I think that some of my relatives think that all I do is sit home and wallow in my sorrow. If they had stuck around or even showed up, they would know different. These passages I write do not take me all day. I write them within an hour. I do not sit and cry all day, I have things to do. I have gotten on with MY life. Getting on with life does not mean you can leave the sorrow behind, it means you are taking it with you and are learning how to carry that burden and still breath. We move on and that is hard for us to believe too, but we do. Once you are in this club there is no exit. It's up to us how we live our lives. Whether others approve of our choices or not does not matter. What they believe we should be doing, does not matter. They are not living this life, we are.

This is the hardest road any of us will ever travel. It has no vacation sights alone the way, no rest areas. We will come across many who are compassionate and many who are not. We learn to pull our grief inside. We learn to shift the load on our shoulders to make it more bearable. If we seem different, it is because we are. Don't wait for the old us to come back, they are gone as surely as our loved one is. We have to move one day at a time, sometimes, one moment, but we are moving. I am moving forward, but it is not how others think I should. I am moving in my way, what is best for me. I find that I offend people very easy. I don't know why, but I don't over worry about it either. Maybe that is why? What would have mattered 'before' does not carry the same weight now.

I look at my 'family' and realize that I am rich in their love. I watch my grandboys grow, and one day, they will become young men. I try not to contemplate the future, just the immediate days as I try to find the joy in the moment, sometimes it is there. I look at Tim's picture on the wall surrounded by my daughter and grandsons. It does not hurt as much as yesterday but it may hurt worse tomorrow. I try not to worry about it because it is not within my control. I have break down days and okay days and isn't that how life is anyway? Through my eyes, nothing will ever be the same.