This past weekend, Evie and I went to Correctionville to visit Nick’s family –
our very dear friends – a second family as I like to think of them. It had been far too long, and it was so
wonderful to visit and catch up. A new
baby, a growing toddler…it seemed like everyone had new and exciting things
going on in their lives, and it felt so wonderful to be able to connect
again. I missed them, Evie missed them,
and part of my soul craves their presence in our lives. They are part of us now, and I can't imagine life without them in it.
We had a wonderful time, and I am so glad we went to see them, but I couldn't help but notice myself being more quiet that usual, or the overwhelming sense of emotion that overcame me a couple of times while we were there. I wasn't sure if it was seeing Nick's picture, seeing his loyal German Shepherd, or just being in the home that Nick was so proud to bring me to meet his parents the first time - likely a combination of all of the above.
The drive home made me a little somber as well. The route I had routinely taken when I went to see Nick had been closed off for the longest time due to construction, but is finally now open again, so I took the route home I had taken so many times before. I couldn't believe something so simple as a driving route could bring back so many emotions. I had driven that route many times after his passing, and it hadn't made me emotional many of those times, why now? Why did this visit and this drive make me so teary-eyed? I couldn't put my finger on it.
I started to really question if I was ok, and if I had "grieved properly". I wondered if I was still hanging onto something that I needed to let go of. I mean, it has been over two years since we lost him, and I shouldn't still be dealing with these emotions, right? I'm sure many of you are thinking the same thing...that someone who lost her boyfriend almost three years ago should have long moved on...
Society tells us there is this "grieving process"...a smooth line we are supposed to follow through the journey of grief. It outlines steps to follow along the way...things we are supposed to feel at different stages of this grieving game.
In a perfect world, everything would have a clear-cut process. We would know exactly how to get from point A to point B with no bumps or detours in between. Our paths would all look like the same beautifully drawn, smooth, straight line.
The reality is, there is no scientific formula for grief. Not one person's path is going to look just like the other's. You can't tell anyone what they are going to feel at any point in their grieving journey because as much as we would like to be able to control and predict everything, it just simply is not possible.
Of all the definitions and comparisons for grief out there, I found this to be the most accurate in my opinion:
For the rest of my life, that Ocean water is going to continue to be unpredictable. There are going to be times that the grief comes and rips my feet right from under me. This past weekend the water in my Ocean was overwhelming, but I didn't drown because through all the ups and downs of this insane hand I have been dealt in life, I have learned to be a damn good swimmer.
The drive home made me a little somber as well. The route I had routinely taken when I went to see Nick had been closed off for the longest time due to construction, but is finally now open again, so I took the route home I had taken so many times before. I couldn't believe something so simple as a driving route could bring back so many emotions. I had driven that route many times after his passing, and it hadn't made me emotional many of those times, why now? Why did this visit and this drive make me so teary-eyed? I couldn't put my finger on it.
I started to really question if I was ok, and if I had "grieved properly". I wondered if I was still hanging onto something that I needed to let go of. I mean, it has been over two years since we lost him, and I shouldn't still be dealing with these emotions, right? I'm sure many of you are thinking the same thing...that someone who lost her boyfriend almost three years ago should have long moved on...
Society tells us there is this "grieving process"...a smooth line we are supposed to follow through the journey of grief. It outlines steps to follow along the way...things we are supposed to feel at different stages of this grieving game.
In a perfect world, everything would have a clear-cut process. We would know exactly how to get from point A to point B with no bumps or detours in between. Our paths would all look like the same beautifully drawn, smooth, straight line.
The reality is, there is no scientific formula for grief. Not one person's path is going to look just like the other's. You can't tell anyone what they are going to feel at any point in their grieving journey because as much as we would like to be able to control and predict everything, it just simply is not possible.
Of all the definitions and comparisons for grief out there, I found this to be the most accurate in my opinion:
For the rest of my life, that Ocean water is going to continue to be unpredictable. There are going to be times that the grief comes and rips my feet right from under me. This past weekend the water in my Ocean was overwhelming, but I didn't drown because through all the ups and downs of this insane hand I have been dealt in life, I have learned to be a damn good swimmer.
