It’s been almost two months since my husband died. Like most traumatic incidents the event itself has the ability to feel close and distant at the same time. Some days it feels like Kevin’s been gone for a long time, other days it feels like it just happened. It can feel so raw that it pains my heart and I find it hard to swallow; even holding my head up is an effort. The pain is very, very real. It settles deep the centre of my chest, behind my ribcage and throbs in time with the beat of my heart – separate but the same. I would likely be diagnosed as suffering from Broken Heart Syndrome. It is real and it exists, and it is a major factor in why I continue to be under a doctor’s care
Not a day goes by that I don’t think about Kevin, wonder what he would think or say. Some days are better than others. On good days I may find humour in something and I can imagine him hiss-laughing, he’d sound like a snake, sharing my laughter. On other days I don’t imagine his response at all – I can’t get past my own sorrow. On these low days I may find myself in his closet touching his sweaters, smelling his clothes, hugging one of his favorite tee-shirts. On these occasions I wonder if he can see me, if he is still here in some shape or form, and so I plead with the universe in general, to send me a sign to let me know he’s here with me.
Tomorrow my daughter and my sister-in-law will go see a psychic, medium, sensitive – I am actually not sure what she is. I hope it proves to be a comforting experience. I was offered the opportunity to go as well, but I am just not ready. I am still dwelling in the darkness and shadows, but unexpectedly there is a degree of comfort in this. I am not moving forward very fast and darkness seems to encourage caution and care; it’s okay to move slowly when you can’t see where you are going. So, for now, I passed on the opportunity.
It’s almost two months and I have been back at work part time for about a month. It has been a push, but my coworkers tell me that I appear to be improving. Maybe on the outside, however, the reality is that his death is never out of my mind.