some time
time is a funny thing...
Some moments the ache of missing Bill is so deep I struggle to take the next breath, and I want to crawl out of my skin. Like this morning when I was sitting in the chair waiting for the oral surgeon to come in an do his work on my tongue. I was able to explain to the girl who was getting everything prepared that I was fine, really, as I asked her to pass me a Kleenex so I could blot my tears and blow my nose. I explained them by telling her that this is the first thing I have faced without my husband.
The sympathy look immediately covered her face.
"How long has he been gone?"
"Three years."
"He must have been a good one to get this reaction after that much time."
"He was."
Time.
Perspective.
To her three years was a long time.
To me, three years and almost 5 months is not long at all.
And yet it has been a lifetime of change.
I am not the same person I was when Bill was alive.
I am not the same person I would be if he were still here.
Some time has passed.
Some things have changed.
Some things remain the same.
At first an ugly cry was daily. Sometimes more than once a day. Often sending me to my knees by my bed or to sit in my room in my glider, covering my mouth with a pillow so as not to scare the children and grandchildren. Time has not taken away the ache nor the pain but it has changed the intense everyday rawness of it. Slowly, the time between outbursts lengthened. Now I can go weeks without being ambushed by mourning. And time has taught me the signs that an ugly cry is coming so sometimes I am more prepared.
For a long time I could not think, let alone speak about Bill without tears and intense gut wrenching sorrow. Now I can listen to others tell stories and talk about him myself. Smiling, laughing, enjoying memories. Now I can look back through pictures that have him in them and enjoy them, even when my heart aches with missing him. Sometimes tears spring up, but not every time.
Some time has changed me.
This morning as they numbed my tongue, one of the men said "You are tough as nails." The second one said, "And mean as a snake?"
I replied, "Maybe so."
Tough, I hope so.
Mean? I hope not.
But I did giggle to myself when he asked because I immediately recalled a conversation Bill and I had when I was going through menopause. I looked online at symptoms. I asked him "am I more grouchy and aggressive?" (or something to that effect) He paused, visibly paused and I knew what the answer was before he opened his mouth.That memory makes me smile.
I do know that I am stronger. Mentally, emotionally, spiritually and I am working on physically.
I am wiser.
I am more confident.
I am more capable of making decisions.
I am more knowledgeable about a lot of the financial things Bill tried to interest me in me while he was here. But while he was here he took care of things, I had no reason to be involved. Though now I wish I had been, if for no other reason than it would have pleased him.
Sometimes some time is all you need.
Sometimes all the time in the world doesn't help.
Time is a funny thing.
 |
| it seems like this was recently taken but it's been years ago |
The sympathy look immediately covered her face.
"How long has he been gone?"
"Three years."
"He must have been a good one to get this reaction after that much time."
"He was."
Time.
Perspective.
To her three years was a long time.
To me, three years and almost 5 months is not long at all.
And yet it has been a lifetime of change.
I am not the same person I was when Bill was alive.
I am not the same person I would be if he were still here.
Some time has passed.
Some things have changed.
Some things remain the same.
At first an ugly cry was daily. Sometimes more than once a day. Often sending me to my knees by my bed or to sit in my room in my glider, covering my mouth with a pillow so as not to scare the children and grandchildren. Time has not taken away the ache nor the pain but it has changed the intense everyday rawness of it. Slowly, the time between outbursts lengthened. Now I can go weeks without being ambushed by mourning. And time has taught me the signs that an ugly cry is coming so sometimes I am more prepared.
For a long time I could not think, let alone speak about Bill without tears and intense gut wrenching sorrow. Now I can listen to others tell stories and talk about him myself. Smiling, laughing, enjoying memories. Now I can look back through pictures that have him in them and enjoy them, even when my heart aches with missing him. Sometimes tears spring up, but not every time.
Some time has changed me.
This morning as they numbed my tongue, one of the men said "You are tough as nails." The second one said, "And mean as a snake?"
I replied, "Maybe so."
Tough, I hope so.
Mean? I hope not.
But I did giggle to myself when he asked because I immediately recalled a conversation Bill and I had when I was going through menopause. I looked online at symptoms. I asked him "am I more grouchy and aggressive?" (or something to that effect) He paused, visibly paused and I knew what the answer was before he opened his mouth.That memory makes me smile.
I do know that I am stronger. Mentally, emotionally, spiritually and I am working on physically.
I am wiser.
I am more confident.
I am more capable of making decisions.
I am more knowledgeable about a lot of the financial things Bill tried to interest me in me while he was here. But while he was here he took care of things, I had no reason to be involved. Though now I wish I had been, if for no other reason than it would have pleased him.
Sometimes some time is all you need.
Sometimes all the time in the world doesn't help.
Time is a funny thing.
Comments
Post a Comment
thank you for taking the time to share