I
returned home in July and began the process of sorting and
prioritizing my life, preparing to be 'two' once again. But then
Scott died...just
like that!
After all that fighting for his life, prayer, recovery, getting
engaged, and looking forward to our future together, he was gone!
It
was as though the previous six-months, Scott
and I were adrift in the ocean riding the waves; some were huge and insurmountable that sucked
us under for a time but, somehow when each wave passed, both our
heads popped back
out of the water as we anticipated the next one.
We fought, we cried, and we clung to each other as each wave towered
over us trying our damnedest to stay together. 'Stay
together! We must not get separated!'
Then suddenly, somebody hit the pause button just after the last big
wave hit and only my
head popped out of the water. Though the pause button remained on, I
was conscious, unlike when we pause a movie and we just know the
characters are frozen in both time and consciousness and will start
right where they left off, never knowing they were paused. Only this time, I was frozen in conscious suspended automation, (God
I love those two words)
watching the world continue to swirl around me.
Then
the waves changed to a quiet abyss with fog raising out of it and
Scott was nowhere to be found. There was no togetherness now.
We were torn apart, he on one side and me on the other, unable to see
or talk to each other, though our heart strings were still attached
and I had somehow tried to delude myself into believing that, with
all the adrenaline still pumping through my veins, perhaps my heart
could beat for the two of us.
And
somehow, in the back of my mind, I believed that he
would be there waiting for me at the airport when I arrived in
Phoenix for his funeral. We would go visit our special places and
then even attend the service together! He would join his
mom, my
sister, Kare, and I on the upper deck of the Point Hilton to watch
the blood moon that showed it's splendor the night after his funeral.
I was certain he would at least show up at the pool for morning
coffee or appear at the table with me at the Mexican Restaurant that
we loved. But he never showed.
Back
in Mobile, there were so many things I had wanted Scott to experience
that are unique to 'here'.
Every time I immersed myself in them, my mind told me he would be
showing up at any second. It was like having that imaginary friend
as a kid that only you could see. The things we had so looked
forward to enjoying together,
I was doing alone,
often wondering if he would have loved it as much as me.
When
our significant other passes, we are thrust into a world that most
people only know from observing others going through it. But there
are so many elements that can only be discovered in first person
experience. For example, when we walk our loved-one through illness
and fight so hard for their life focusing only on them, and
they don't make it,
there is suddenly nothing left to fight for. The world just stops!
I
remember realizing, once again, that 'I'
exist, yet the lady in the mirror had become a stranger and it took
several weeks to realize that perhaps I
was not okay. I was thrust back to real life with the task to move forward - alone.
But the full realization that the life we had planned no longer
exists didn't hit immediately. Rather it was like discovering I had
been cheated, but not realizing how bad until more was revealed over
time. With each revelation, I felt shock all over again, as if Scott
had just died. For example, I still kept thinking I would be living
in Arizona and had even contacted a realtor asking questions about
about a house Scott had been interested in for us, only to be jolted
into reality that I would not be living there. And my
house
did not need to expand for Scott living here.
My niece told me about the song 'There
Is No Arizona' and
I have to laugh at the irony of it. But fate
was the 'he'
that had lied to me. Lied to
us!
There
is no Arizona
No
painted desert, no Sedona
If
there was a Grand Canyon
She
could fill it up with the lies he's told her
But
they don't exist, those dreams he sold her
She'll
get there and find
There
is no Arizona
Arizona
was canceled! Our trips to Ireland, France, the Grecian Islands,
and all over the US... canceled...just like that! My wedding was
canceled – twice! A joint graduation party in each
state...canceled! Ballroom dance lessons together, canceled! We
would never bring to life the silhouettes in the pictures we loved.
We – Scott
and I
– would never be 'them'
– the
silhouettes!
My future was canceled and when I tried to look ahead to the rest
of my life, all I could see was that gray fog.
A
couple of months after losing Scott, one of my best friends in Mobile, who
happens to be a counselor encouraged me to date. That sounded so
absurd and I secretly questioned her effectiveness as a therapist.
I thought back to a good friend back in 2007 who, in her early 50's
had met a wonderful man and they, too, dated long-distance. He was
out for his daily jog and suffered a fatal heart attack.
I
watched her walk through it seemingly emotionless, now knowing she
was in shock. Three months later, she was dating and the girls in
our group and I raised our eyebrows in disdain saying, “Well, I
guess she really loved him didn't she!” We were not the
gossipy type and were true friends to each other, but we were
embarrassed for her moving so fast. As karma would have it, I
learned the hard way that we all think that we know exactly
how to handle a situation and what we would do if it were us.
But the reality is, we don't! Not even remotely! And I
found that all of my own ideals about the shining example I
would be, had I been in her shoes, were not even on the list
of options when it was me in that situation.
It was not an easy choice to decide to date. After much agonizing over the prospect, I met someone weeks after this advice was given (months after Scott's death). We
connected right away and, looking back, it was because he was willing
to talk about Scott, he asked questions and basically walked through
the rest of the first year with me and I walked him through his
mothers death. He was a God-send as I don't know how I would have
gotten through it otherwise.
The
relationship didn't take the away pain of losing Scott, but it helped
smooth the first year milestones. Valentines Day that was supposed
to be our secret wedding day in Sedona, graduation, the anniversary
of his recovery, our engagement (July 4th) etc. But
that was a double-edged sword because when the road of our
relationship took separate paths last spring, the anniversaries were still there, though the
hardest first year was done. The memories and the sense of loss were
still alive and well.
The
journey of grief is inescapable and it is a road that must be
traveled by all of us at
some point. No matter how much we try to bury
it, run from it, stay busy, surround ourselves with friends, or even
a new relationship, it is patiently waiting for our attention. The
only choice we have about grief is how we frame it.
It is there waiting for us in the dead of night; especially when we must face the journey alone. In the depths of grief, when my heart has been
sliced open and my pain exposed for what feels like the world to see,
I am forced to remember, to feel, to laugh and cry. It is then that
I realize, grief is a gift. It is nothing more than that friend
which none of us wants but, when it seeks us out, we can't get rid of
it until we walk through the pain and accept life on new terms, and
then move forward to live and love our life in spite of the loss.
Posts that tell Scott and my story:
The Waiting Place: #58
A Spoken Word: #59
Will You Be My Valentine: #61
Arizona For Valentines Day: #62
After the Waiting Place: #66
Two Sillouettes Dancing: #67
The Hour Glass is Empty: #69
There is No Arizona: #70
I am
starting 2018 taking that advice; with no regrets, nor
words left unsaid, and a clean 'energy field' to continue my journey forward, embracing new opportunities and awesome adventures as they present themselves along the way.
