This is my last post about the memory garden (until the next time I post about it). I love it so much! The mulch went down the other day and it is just beautiful. The plants are far from mature, but it doesn’t matter. It’s everything and so much more than I ever could have imagined. Every time I water or weed or just stare at it, I feel so happy.
A couple days ago I was admiring the garden’s beauty and out of nowhere, grief amnesia struck me again. It’s that fraction of a millisecond when joy overcomes me and I want to turn to Mark to share the moment with him. It is barely measurable by time as it happens so fast. Then just as quickly reality crashes upon me. The realization that he isn’t here and I am not allowed to share life’s beautiful moments with him. And just like that, joy is replaced by suffocating sorrow.
The moment occurred again at Gman’s baseball game last night. His team played so well. They were holding the undefeated team and really working together and having fun. Mark would’ve been so excited and proud! Why can’t the heart and the mind remember reality?! I’ll never stop thinking about my husband, remembering our life together…but I wish it were possible to cure grief amnesia. It is shocking and painful every time it happens. Oh, how I miss sharing life with him.
And not just the joyful moments – I really miss him in the difficult moments too. There was hail damage to dozens of roofs in the neighborhood. Everyone is having insurance replace their roofs…. except mine. Roofers say there is damage; my EGR insurance adjuster says nothing to see here. I don’t want to handle this. I don’t want to have to push back for what is right. I want Mark to protect me and handle all of this.
And yet, I’m doing it. I’m doing all the things I wish he were still here to do for us. And although I’m proving capable enough, it isn’t the same. I feel deserted and alone. I sometimes feel scared not sharing life with the man who took care of broken HVAC system issues (yep, that happened) and insurance adjusters. Not being able to share life’s joy with my best friend leaves my heart feeling beaten; the weight upon it asphyxiating.
My neighbor friends have been so wonderful filling this awkward void. It’s not their job at all, and yet they are doing it. I often over share with them because I just can’t keep it all inside. I need someone’s patient and listening ears to help me flesh out my anxieties, questions and fears. And I need people to share my joys with, too. They are such gracious troopers. I’m so grateful for their tolerance of me as I continue to try to figure out how to be the lone head of household. Thank you so much, J & B.
I may have written about grief amnesia before, because it’s certainly not a new thing. However, I wanted you to know it still occasionally rears its ugly, dark and scary head. Fourteen months into this and it still assaults me.
I’m going to make it though. Survival is what I always do. I just wish I were doing it with my husband by my side.
Extra grace to all my fellow grief amnesiacs out there. You aren’t alone.
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