A year ago I was so consumed with grief that every movement was painful. However, I knew that if I ever stopped moving that I would never get up. So, I got through each day minute by minute.
Then hour by hour.
Then day by day.
Sure, I was only going through the motions...but at least I was in motion. I was alive and functioning at a minimal level, but it kept me moving. And moving helped me relearn how to live.
Then one day, I woke up and I had a buzz of energy.
Shock. How could this be?
Guilt set in.
I must be breaking all the rules of widowhood.
But the buzz of energy remained
And after a while, I admitted to myself
That it felt deliciously good.
And so through this year I have slowly eased back into life.
No, it's not the same life.
My husband's absence is always evident
And I miss him dreadfully.
But every moment of my day
Is not clouded by the patina of grief
nor is the undertow of pain so overwhelming.
Little by little
I'm loosing my hold on a past I cannot keep
And getting on with the life I have.