As the one year anniversary of Martin’s death approaches, my heart weighs heavy with sorrow.  It’s been a strange year, one of deep persistent sadness coupled with immutable joy.  I’ve learned that sadness and joy are not mutually exclusive.  They are but two different emotions entwined around my heart in a meandering dance of mourning and moving forward with living. 

Realistically, I know the hurt, the unfairness, especially given his healthy lifestyle, of his disease and death will never leave me.  He loved bicycling and motorcycling, anything on two wheels.  He loved cooking and art.  And, he loved me and our family.  He loved our cats and our home.  He was energetic and creative.  I often woke to a latte and juice being placed on my bedside table as he rose each day before I did.  I miss loving gestures like this one, the soft smile as he brought me these gifts to start my day.

However, he was also logical, mostly serious, rarely smiling and would want me to be logical about this life change.  As much as I may want to, I can’t recreate the life we had.  That’s impossible for anyone, anywhere experiencing the loss of a loved one.  Life will never be the same.  Nevertheless, life can be joyful, filled with happiness.  For me, it’s okay to be sad, but I can’t stay sad forever.  Emotions come and go whether we’ve experienced a loss or not.  That is the ebb and flow of life.  Acceptance of this searing loss as well as allowing myself to feel the spectrum of emotions provided room for creating my new life, the life I’m now living.

Through my struggle with depression and the occasional panic attack, journaling about my emotions became a way to acknowledge and accept my feelings as well as Martin’s death.  Seeking out spiritual, even mystical teachings, centered my thinking about the natural event of passing from this life.  Community involvement and making new friends began with my yoga practice and a class on The Afterlife.  I talked about Martin’s life and death and continue to do so.  I sold the big house, went to Italy for both of us and started building my new house, symbolizing starting anew.

Grieving is personal.  Knowing that, I took a personal approach.  On the many, many days when I found myself incredibly happy, I assuaged any guilt by reminding myself that joy was mine to claim again.  Carving pumpkins last weekend with my grandchildren, walking the streets of Lucca in Tuscany with peace in my heart, watching the ground breaking for my house, awed by a flock of turkeys gathering on the bank behind my apartment, the unusual sighting of a doe with her spotted triplets, receiving my order of wildflower seeds for my property, such is the joy, which is mine. There is no one way to wend our way through the onslaught of emotions.  There is no right way or wrong way, only our way.  There are no good emotions or bad emotions, only emotions. Self-care also gained importance as I sought to heal myself.  Part of that self-care is allowing my emotions to flow as I grow into this life phase. I’m doing a good job of it.  Martin would be proud of me.

I will always feel sadness at his loss. That will never go away even as the memories may fade. There will never be another moment when Martin starts my morning gently setting a latte and juice at my bedside and my opening my eyes to his warm smile, but I know he was here.  He is here. He is loved.  And, he is missed.

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