Living In My Own World

For the first several months after Brian died, my only goal was to recall the feeling of him being with me. I would smell his clothes in the closet, I would hug his pillows or try to conjure up conversations with him in my mind. I wanted very much to continue living with him in the past. I don't anymore.

People like to tell me that Brian is still with me or that he is proud of me for this or that. I know that these people are trying to be helpful and kind, but nothing causes me more anxiety than thinking Brian can see me or that he cares what I do. It imposes the idea that he still exists on Earth and that I might hurt him with my actions and decisions. 

I am failing by Brian's standards. He would see no value in the time and energy I've spent crying over him. He would probably be upset to find that, after all of the drama and conflict in our marriage over starting a family, I'm actively avoiding having children in my life. He would be completely unhappy to know I've risked losing everything he worked for in order to start my own business, and I can't even begin to imagine what he might think about how I'm managing my social life at the moment. 

One of the most comforting concepts for me in grief is the knowledge that nothing I do has any impact on Brian. I am accountable only to myself and no one else.  Whether he is in heaven or whether he is no more at all, he's not paying any attention to me. I actually like the idea that I'm on my own and that I don't need to concern myself with what Brian thinks or would think of how I'm living my life. 

I loved Brian and the life he built for us, but he's gone now. I believe he is in heaven and that whatever he is experiencing now is so much better than anything he could possibly be missing. I sincerely hope that it would never occur to him to look back on me or this world. Not only do I want these things for him, but it is the only way I have the freedom and autonomy needed to carry on with my own life. 

I lived in Brian's world and it was a fantastic place to be. There were roller coasters and cotton candy and music and popcorn and video games and lots of colorful, sparkly things. I loved living in Brian's world, but the park is closed now and if I stay there, I'll decay with the rest of it. 

Drone footage of the now-abandoned

 Geauga Lake Amusement Park in Ohio.