when the world stopped
It was one year ago today that I woke up and wrote in Caring Bridge, “what will today bring.” At the time we knew it was really really bad, but we didn’t know that there were only hours left.
Grief is unpredictable, and just as September was less ominous than I expected, I was taken by surprise when December hit me like a ton of bricks. Every grief path has its own cadence. For me, grief has been a constant companion, forever at my side, but I have also been blessed to be able to work and parent and even find joy along the way. But in December, grief was more like walking in lead boots with a semipermanent brain freeze.
We went to Pittsburgh for Christmas, where we were pleasantly distracted by holiday activities and visiting with family. We stayed with my sister where we enjoyed a cozy Christmas morning and my kids attended for the first time the Christmas Eve and Christmas Day gatherings with extended family that I grew up going to every year. They met a lot of new people and reconnected with familiar faces; what a wonderful time for them to feel themselves as part of a greater family tree.
This morning is the last time I can say that a year ago, at least I was still with B. No matter how hard you try to do it all right, there is no way to live through cancer and death without regrets. I am working on forgiving myself these and remembering the spirit of B. I know that he is better now; I feel him sometimes watch over us with joy and protectiveness. I am most sad about what the kids don’t really understand that they are missing.
We are going to light a candle in B’s honor today. If you have a moment and would like to remember him, perhaps you can too. And with that flame maybe we can all take a moment to reflect upon what goodness means, and to invite peace, kindness, and humility into our lives in the New Year ahead.
I have gotten several requests for a transcript of Bart’s Eulogy, so thought I would share that here.
Peace and love,
NW