She looks so sad, so empty. She shows no feeling, no emotion, she just gets on with her daily life robotically, routinely. She embraces the love and happiness of those close to her, she is still there for them, but her own happiness is lost somewhere, her zest has gone, her reason to live at times evades her.
But then I see.......is it me?
I think this thing called grief has wrenched all these things from her. She wants to feel truly happy again, she wants this pain to leave her, the pain that was left when her love was torn from her. It left her so incomplete, so bereft, so heartbroken, so empty, so lost. She mourns her lost past, her lost present and her lost future, oh yes she mourns that most of all. The future he was meant to be part of, that future looming without him that leaves her flailing in the dark. How does she live without him, what does she do?
I see her grateful for her children, for their life, their future, they are a light, a beacon, that gives her hope in this future void.
Sometimes the pain, the grief, they take her beyond her physical body and it carries on without her. It is how she survives this utter, devastating loss.
But then her mind and body are reunited again and she has to feel, she has no choice.
And then it hurts, so bloody much and the only thoughts she can think, through the jumbled vocabulary of her present life, that rise beyond the pain, are that she wants him back. She wants him back so very, very much. There are no words to consol her.
And then I see, I feel, I know.......it really is me.
