It was hard to talk about death with Brian while he was dying. We changed the words and talked about when the carnival comes, and he referred to the afterlife as going to play on the playground. He was looking forward to seeing his parents and was pretty happy never to have to work through the summer heat again. He wasn't afraid at all.
Brian recognized that his story ended well. He started with nothing and through hard work he acquired everything he'd ever wanted. In a way, I think he was relieved that he would never lose it.
Now that the carnival has come and gone and Brian is off playing on the playground, it's time for my story to continue. Intellectually, I know that it's necessary to establish my own identity, but every step forward is a step further away from the life I shared with Brian. It's uncomfortable and I don't like it.
I've been one half of "Brian and I" my entire adult life. I still say "we" and "our" and I still wear my rings. It brings me comfort and security to continue defining myself by the context of my relationship with Brian - I was his wife and now I am his widow and I'm not in a rush to be anything else.
The grieving process often makes me feel like a toddler learning to walk. I get excited when I start moving forward and will often lean into it too much or get going too fast. From time to time I get ahead of myself and end up falling on my face.
With that said, I am anxious to discover who I am independent of my marriage. This is the first time in my life that I've lived alone and if I'm honest, I don't hate it. There are definitely times when I don't know what to do with myself, but I'm learning to appreciate the autonomy.
 |
| Brian and I with my grandparents at our wedding. |
No comments:
Post a Comment