Yesterday evening I ventured back to Connecticut for the first time since the immediate weeks after George passed. Lately I’ve been keeping busy so grief doesn’t catch up to me. I run away from the pain. Whether that’s a good thing or not, I don’t know. With a three hour car ride, there’s nothing I can do but think about how miserable all this is and just weep.
So what do I think about?
Well lately George and my anniversary of dating is coming up on July 3. I was thinking about scattering his ashes that day. But then parting with his ashes makes it all so real and frightening. I won’t PHYSICALLY have him anymore. I still have him with me, kind of. But the moment those ashes whisk away in the wind (ideally) or drop to the ground (more realistically), he won’t be with me. I haven’t even opened the container to look at his ashes since receiving them in early December. But that day is nearing. And yes, yes, I already know I’ll hear the hackneyed efforts of providing me with solace like, “what you had will forever be tied to you,” or “he’s still with and watching over you.” But you know who’s saying those things? People who have not had to hold their 6’1 husband in a cardboard cylinder.
It kills me when I hear it. My brain shuts down, I glaze over and nod. But I have a mental checklist at this point of those who are good for me and other I want to just brush off. I’m in an impossible situation, and I know it. Thank you for trying, now swallow your words and remember them for when you encounter this life event. Although, for most people my age that wouldn’t be for another 40-50-60 years. Awesome, I get to experience it before the ripe age of 30.
I sometimes think I’m in this horrible dream world and at some point I’ll just wake up like it all never happened. I’ll wake up and George will go “bad dream?” And I’ll say yeah and it felt so real. Then I’ll curl up next to him, he’ll put his arms around my shoulders to draw me in to his chest. I’ll feel his warmth, he’d kiss the top of my head and I’ll feel the butterflies in my stomach I felt every day when I first saw him.
Grief is love turned inside out. It’s a dark and lifeless place. So I’ll black my eyes and continue this endless marathon of running away. I have 40-50-60 more years of running to go.