Tonight is the first time, in a long time, that I’ve sat and looked through our wedding pictures. It continues to surprise me, the force with which grief sweeps through me still.
It’s not a constant thing, not anymore. At almost 17 months of this, I have gotten a better grip on how to live with it as a companion.
The majority of my days, I’m pretty happy. I can find beauty in this world again, I can smile and mean it. But sometimes, every so often, the tidal wave of grief comes calling. On the widow message boards, it is referred to as the “grief monster”. This monster is a thing of darkness that watches from the shadows, hiding. It lurks, its sharp teeth dripping with saliva, getting hungrier and hungrier with each passing day. Yet still, it waits, it lurks, it watches, it hunts. The time it spends stalking varies each and every time. Sometimes it watches for days, sometimes for weeks, sometimes it waits months to attack. The length of time between its attacks determines the force with which it slams into you.
When it finally leaps from the shadows, wraps its jaws around your throat, you can’t breathe, you can’t move. You feel this monsters hot breath on your cheeks. You are reduced to the quivering, helpless, lost child you were the first few days after the death, before you learned how to live with it, before you learned there WAS living after it.
When the grief monster attacks, there is no avoiding it, no outrunning it, no keeping busy and waiting for it to slither back into the shadows. It is far too strong for that. It leaves no choice but to feel its jagged teeth around your throat, to open your eyes and to look right into the dark abyss gripping you. The grief monster commands attention, and you can do nothing else but abide. It is the master, and you are its slave.
So tonight, I cried. I cried the hot, miserable, heart wrenching tears I haven’t cried in months. The grief monster got its sustenance from me, it got the flesh it came for.
I don’t understand why Brandon is dead. I know that by all accounts it was a suicide, but I’m not sure I’m 100% convinced. I don’t understand why he died that night, of all the nights. And if it wasn’t that night, would it have just been another night?
It’s unfair that we only got 5 weeks to be husband and wife. I looked at our wedding pictures tonight, I looked closely at his face. He was happy that day. In a few of the pictures, he’s looking at me in that special way he used to; with the look that made me feel like the most loved person on Earth. That look was there. So no, I don’t understand why 5 weeks from that day, he got stupid drunk, put a gun to his neck, and pulled the trigger. I never will. Not understanding is driving me crazy. I like to understand how things work, why they happen the way they happen. This, unfortunately, I will never understand. And I need to find a way to live with that.
I miss that look. No one’s ever quite looked at me in such a way.
Will has been in Michigan for a week now. I miss him. I miss him so much. I can’t wait until next Sunday when he comes home. Home isn’t the same without him here. I think my world will feel more right when I’m back in his arms. I feel safe there. I feel peace. He’s such a good soul.
I love him. And I love Brandon. I never thought that it was possible to love two people quite so much, but again, what did I know? It’s very much possible to love two people. It’s very bizarre and strange, but it is possible.
The oddest thing, is that one love does absolutely nothing to diminish or lessen the other.