Random Thoughts

I miss Brian.

So. Much. It. Hurts.

It feels good to say it. I have spent a lot of time covering up how I feel. Mostly that was because it hurts too much. I was tired of hurting, so I was ignoring my feelings. For the last several days, I have thought about him a lot more. I have let the memories and thoughts of him flood my mind.

And at least for the last few days, I haven't particularly felt sad. I do have an overwhelming sense of loss, yet the thoughts feel good to think.

I have always said that time does not heal. I firmly believe that. But I do think that time starts to take a different path, that your mind and heart start to learn to deal with the loss. And sometimes in the middle of that, your mind and heart sometimes decide they don't feel like dealing with it in a sane manner, so things are up and down.

Ultimately, I have come to realize what is probably not a surprise to others...the Jenni from before is gone. There are glimpses of me, but I am a changed person. I hope and pray that I can pick through the rubble and find the good, as well as the parts that have evolved and changed for the better. I hate that line though...how can I ever be better without Brian? But I know as well as anyone that most everyone who deals with a loss comes to the other side of it all with some knowledge that has made them a better person, some part of their soul that has been thrust into walking the walk. I always hope this mean I have a little more gold on my halo. Now I'm no angel. But I sure as heck believe that God will look upon me favorably for how I have handled the losses in my life. I hope to always keep these losses close in my heart, and cherish them as proof of who I've become, and as a ticket into the fast lane to Heaven. I know it isn't a done deal. I don't get that ticket in just based on what has been. So I still have a lot of work to do to maintain my soul, to continue to nurture my soul, and to continue to aim myself toward Heaven. I don't think I was a bad person at all, you know, before. So I'm not necessarily saying that I wouldn't have gotten to Heaven without all of this crud in my life over the last several years. But I won't forget the role it has also played. I look in the mirror each day, and I am barely recognizable. I sometimes don't even know myself anymore. I wonder what has happened to me. And then I remember.

I miss some things about the old me, the Jenni from before. I miss the innocence. I am more cautious. I am freaked out about stupid things happening to me or my kids. I am no longer convinced that things will be ok, because I have seen first hand and have lived through things NOT being ok. A divorce. A dead mother. A suffering husband. A dead husband. A child with no Daddy.

I miss being happy. I mean really happy. My children bring me great happiness. Beyond that, I often feel like things are good. Nice. Ok. Doing fine. So-so. Not too bad. Pleasant. Acceptable. Favorable. Satisfactory.

I just don't know how to get from here to there. I don't know how to do it, other than to go through it. It took nearly 3 days for me to recover from the hell of Saturday. I felt like I been in a boxing match, and I lost. My face was swollen, my shoulders were tense. I felt weak and dehydrated. I felt exhausted. Grief is exhausting work.

Yet I needed that. I wanted that. Does that sound crazy? I wanted to cry and be out of control. I could probably have lost it way beyond what I did, but I had to...no, I made myself keep my head on straight. I did throw a few things, but managed to stop because that was totally making me feel way too happy! I think I was on guard for some of the other biggies. I took the day off and made plans on the day we met. I was geared up for Christmas and it went ok. We had a big family dinner on our anniversary (although that evening was a bit rough). But this day was different. Saturday was sort of like a lifetime passed. Brian no longer existed in the same time frame as me. A year became plural. He suddenly felt past tense. Seems odd, I know, considering he had been dead a year.

Tomorrow is the day I buried him, the last moment I saw his beautiful face and touched his goatee, the last time he wore his wedding ring and the last time I laid eyes on the man who brought so much happiness into my life, enough happiness that could last me a lifetime. I am so very blessed to have been loved by him, and I can only hope that the memories of loving him and being loved by him will continue to just feel good instead of making me sad.

Thank you to so many who have sent emails and notes. My biggest fear is that Brian will be forgotten. I don't expect people to say things to me on a regular basis about him. But it does warm my heart to have his existence acknowledged. The other day someone repeated to me something they had told me a long time ago...that they could always tell when they saw Brian and me how in love we were. As I type that, I feel choked up. But it also makes me happy. He did a good job. So did I. We did above and beyond what we promised we would do, and I know that God was pleased with us...pleased that we had a strong Christian marriage.

Sometimes I think that loving him for the time I had him should be enough. But Brian was an addiction to me. He brought out the best in me. He wanted me. He wanted to know how my day was. He loved me. And I try to remind myself everyday that I love him so much that I am ok to live my life without him here so he can be free of his suffering. I love him selflessly, enough to be willing to cry my eyes out in exchange for him being at peace. Maybe his peace can someday wash over me.

Grief is very different for each person. I have found that I don't really care if people don't like how I grieve. I will admit that I have come to a point in my grief that I choose my words carefully. I talk about Brian only when I feel comfortable or someone else brings him up. I have found over the past few months that a part of me, a part of the Brian part of me, is closing off. I am starting to keep certain things to myself. I pass up the chance to point things out that Brian would have liked, for fear of making someone uncomfortable, or worse, getting no response. At first that angered me. Then I started feeling like it was harder to bring him up myself, then have people look at me so strangely (it is a distinct look, that look like...oh my God, she just said something about her husband who has been dead for a year). I have several people who I still feel very comfortable to talk to about Brian, about his life, about the things that were special to me. I'm not necessarily saying I don't feel like I can talk about him when I want to...more that talking about him doesn't always make me feel good. A friend from Camp Carousel said after a year she had a few friends that kind of treated her like, come on, it is time to put your big girl panties on now! And they couldn't handle that she was still grieving. And the fact remains, I will always grieve for Brian. And the fact also remains that my grief is evolving, and will always be evolving. So I'm not going to get over it. But it is ok with me if others are over it. It is ok with me if others are past feeling sad about him, and just enjoy the good memories. It is ok. It is really ok. It hurts, but it is ok.

My grief has to be my own. The things that cause me pain are my own. Brian's cologne makes me smile (even in mass quantities if Tye gets ahold of it), but baseball and racing on t.v. could make me throw up. Many things I thought would be triggers turned out to be warm fuzzies; I have actually been blindsided by most of my trigger points.

Gosh, I've rambled tonight. I want to get my feelings out. I have started a book. Several people have asked me. I don't know where I'll go with it. It may just become a healing avenue for me. I guess we'll see. But getting the feelings down on paper, getting them out of my head and heart, has helped. I'm determined to move, at least keep moving. I'm not sure about moving on, or moving past, but at least staying in motion is good for now.