The Second Year…Starting Over

As I roll into year two, I wonder, what will be different? Instead of climbing upward, I seem to be spiraling down. Not a great feeling. I thought I had a handle. Thought I was in control. Two hands on the wheel. Steering straight ahead. But there’s a fork in the road. And I’m not sure which way to turn. Right? Left? Ugh! No one gave me a road map for this. No directions on how to get through. So I close my eyes, turn and see where I land.

So here’s the deal. The first year I was cruising. I kind of knew what to expect. All the grieving process. They tell you about it. Whatever you feel, it’s okay. Denial. Check. Anger. Check. Bargaining. Check. Depression. Never got there. Acceptance. Check. And now I’ve graduated. Second year. A milestone in my grief journey. But here’s reality. It’s harder. It’s real.  

Year one. In some ways, that was the easy year. I had excuses. Greg had just died. I was dealing. One month. Three months. Six months. Whatever the time. I was dealing. And everyone was okay with that. Right away people were there. Lots of people. And slowly they disappeared. They had their own lives. Life goes on. And so did they. I got it. Some people stayed. But I needed to find my way. Discover me. I started the journey. Writing. My road to discovery. I wrote about our love. Our past. Our memories. Gregger. It kept everything alive. But now what? I want to keep writing. It’s my way of talking. When there’s no one here, I can “tap, tap, tap” away. I can erase, rewrite, over and over again. No one answers back. But I get to empty out my brain. I lovingly call this my “drug of choice.” Here’s what I’ve learned so far:

I survived the first year. Yeah me! But now I’m faced with a whole new set of circumstances. Suddenly things are very real. Undeniable. I know he’s gone, but I still keep expecting him to show up. My head knows he won’t. But my heart wishes he will. I don’t want to believe. But I know I must. And that’s the real truth. Battle of brain and heart. And not a damn thing I can do about it.

I passed all the tests. I’ve taken care of things all year. “B.S.” crap. Things I never thought I’d be able to handle. But I did. Yeah me! I’m proud of myself, but I never wanted the job. Still don’t.

So the part that still sucks. Every morning I get in my car. I’m okay. And then some “mushy” song comes on. And there’s Gregger. All around me. My heart beats. Fast. I see him in the clouds. I hear him in my head. And I fight back the tears. It still happens. Year two.

I feel uncertain. I made decisions. I made changes. But now what? Where do I go from here? I made it through year one. Now, what do I do in year two? What’s the game plan? All of a sudden I feel lost again. Gregger, I need you back to tell me what to do. But you’re not coming. I must figure this out alone. And that’s the part that sucks. Reality.

I’ve lost time. What happened to the past year? Where did it go? Did I just lose it? What will happen to the next year? And the one after that? I don’t just want them to fly away with grief. I want to live. I know the sadness will creep in. I know I will cry. I know I will be angry. But in between those moments there has to be life. I don’t want to lose any more time. It’s far too precious.  

My patience is waning. With people, things, myself. Little things. Stupid things. I need to breathe. Take a moment. Realize that it will be okay. I don’t like this side of me. But I need to accept. It’s all part of the process. Grief.

I need a plan. Something to look forward to. A future. Something with promise. Anything but just “being.” I’m not sure what that is. When I know, it will be exciting.

This is a beginning. Facing the truth. Reality. Watch out year 2. I’m coming.