When Jared died, I told myself I would mourn him for two years. I would allow myself two years to be sad and then I would try to live again. But for 2 years, I would only grieve and mourn. I felt I needed to set a time for how long I would mourn, for how long I would be sad. I have no idea why I set a time limit for myself. And two years seemed reasonable. Two years to mourn the man who had been my husband for 14 years. Two years to mourn the man who had been my love for 16 years. Two years, didn't seem very long at all, didn't seem long enough to mourn the man who had captured my heart and whose death had shattered it.
It has now been 16 months since Jared died and as I continue to mourn and grieve through year two, I realize my time frame is unrealistic. And holding myself to that time frame isn't healthy. That I cannot realistically end my grieving nor can I stop myself from beginning to heal.
There is so much about year one I don't even remember. There are complete days that are blanks in my memory. Days I was just doing my best to survive. There are days I got up, got dressed, took Steven to school, and want to work. I know I did this but I cannot remember doing it. There are events I know I attended but I have no relocation of the event. The first year my soul mourned the loss of my love in a manner words cannot describe. My heart ached in a way I never knew was possible. And I felt this is the worst, it has to get better soon.
And then on September 17, 2015, year two began. And you know what? It wasn't really any easier. It didn't magically get better because the first year was over. My heart did not hurt less because the first anniversary had passed. Yes I survived the first year. But that is all I did. I survived. But during that survival I lost myself. Carla, who is she? Who am I now that my husband is dead? Yes I am a widow. But I don't want my widowhood to define me. And that is the realization I have come to at 16 months into my morning and grief.
But that realization causes me to feel guilty. Guilty that I'm not honoring my husband by being sad enough. Guilty that I am not miserable for long enough. Guilty that I want to discover who I am now. Guilty that I want to again live and not just survive. Guilty because I get to live when my husband will never get to walk on this earth again. Guilty for having good days. Guilty for having mornings that I wake up and his loss is not my first thought. Guilt. It is a widow's worst enemy.
When Jared died, I wanted to die too. I remember saying it would have been easier if God had just called us all home together. But a strange thing has happened recently. For the first time in 16 months I want to live. Really live. Not just survive and get through each day, but live. Be happy. Laugh. Find joy in all the little things. While I may not yet see in color, I know that day will come. Most of my days are still shades of grey with an occasional burst of sunlight coming through. But that is progress. For the past 16 months most of my days have been grey with no sun, no burst of light. And now I occasionally see the light and I know that eventually my days are going to be bright and colorful and the days of grey will be few.
Beacause of the realization that I want to live life again, I am trying to find the balance between mourning my husband and finding myself. It is a delicate balance, one I have not perfected, one that I never will. But as I continue on in year two, I know that if I do not discover who I am now, what makes my heart sing, what truly brings me joy, that I will lose myself. Lose myself into a life of endless guilt and grief. And that is not a life I want. That is not a life my husband would want for me. It is not a life I want my child to experience.
So now I am left trying to figure out how to mourn and grieve my husband while living. I feel like I should have put my life on hold for two years at least. Two years, really it's not that long to honor the man who is my soulmate. When Jared first died, I thought two years would be nothing. That I would feel sad forever. And now I realize there is no time stamp on mourning and grief. There is no end date, no expiration. I could put my life on hold forever and that still wouldn't be long enough to mourn and grieve the loss of my love.
I will always grieve the loss of my husband. I will always wish that he were here. I will always think Jared would have...or your dad would be so... and those thoughts will never go away. I will always need to mourn him. To talk about him. To make sure he is not forgotten. I will always be Jared's widow. My heart will always have an empty space specifically reserved for Jared. My heart will always have a huge scar caused by his death. But I must also discover who I am. Who am I since I became a widow? And I have realized the two are not mutually exclusive. And how crazy it was for me to think I could set a time limit on mourning. I can discover who I am and venture out into this new life, while mourning my husband. I don't need to stop grieving to start living.
Grief is a long journey. It is the worst roller coaster ride you can imagine. With unepected twists, turns, and flips. And just when you think the ride is over, it starts again. But instead of hanging on tight and letting the ride scare me to death, stop me from living, and make me a prisoner to my grief, I am going to throw my hands up and do my best to take the ride as it comes. I know I have a purpose. I know there is a plan for me. And this roller coaster ride of grief is just part of the journey to get me to my destination.
