Hello. Hi. It’s been what? 7 months since my boyfriend passed on. I actually had to count and realized it’s exactly 7 months today. My life is now divided into two. My life before my boyfriend died and my life after he died. The two are very different from each other.
I have this image in my head that I describe each time I tell someone about my grief. This grief has been a lot like being hit by a speeding truck on a highway. I can’t make out where the truck came from. It seems to have come out of nowhere because of the sudden impact. All my bones are broken and my whole body hurts. You do so much as touch my toe… I scream bloody murder cos everything f’n hurts.
I am wheeled into an ambulance and taken to the ICU at the nearest hospital where I am hooked onto every machine under the sun. I am in excruciating pain and death seems better than going through so much pain. I am kept in hospital even after I’ve asked that I be discharged so I can just go and die peacefully at home. I am kept alive against my will. There is a whole team of medical professionals fighting for my life even when I’ve checked out.
The medical treatment continues until one day I stretch my legs as I’m waking up and realize my toes don’t hurt as much anymore. I touch them in disbelief and really, the pain is bearable. “Maybe the medical experts are onto something”, I think to myself. Days become weeks and weeks become months and suddenly I can walk again and I don’t need all the machines anymore. So I’m moved to the normal ward. I stay there for a while until I’m discharged.
I leave the hospital limping and I’m told that while I’ve made a major recovery, my legs will just never work the same way again but at least I can walk!
So that’s where I’m at now. I’m having more good days than bad ones these days. Even the bad days are now due to “normal” life stresses not necessarily cos of the loss. I’m finding joy in the ordinary again. However like I said, the two versions of myself are very different from each other. I used to think my love and I would grow old together and die peacefully after long and full lives. Then he died at 29. That changed everything for me. I am now living as someone who could die anytime. I’m probably annoying to my brother with all my end of life instructions but I’m leaving nothing to chance. Death will find me prepared for it.
His family and I have really banded together to heal our pain. I will never let go of them. They are my family now and I count myself blessed to have them. We do everything together which is what I imagine my love would want.
Life is moving forward and I’m thankful to be moving forward alongside it. My life will just never be the same again and I’m okay with it. There is no way the passing of the love of my life would leave me the same. It was a defining moment for me.
Anyway, I rolled my eyes when people told me that time heals. I really don’t think that’s something appropriate to tell grieving people. It doesn’t feel like it in the moment. But now that I’m here on the other side I’d say there is some truth to it. Maybe it doesn’t heal but it gives us room to grow around our grief. I’ve certainly grown around my grief.
I still can’t map out my future and I’m at peace with that. I don’t expect to have everything figured out by now. In April all my hopes and dreams came crashing down so I’m rebuilding from scratch. I put in an offer to purchase a home for myself. I never imagined myself buying a property alone but here we are. I’m making up things as I go. I’m due to move into the place in March so I have that to look forward to. That’s already something I didn’t imagine myself doing so I am making some kind of progress I guess.
I didn’t quit my job thanks to my boyfriend’s aunt and my brother who’ve listened to all my rants about work but still made me stay. There is a lot to be learned in just being still. I like to run when faced with difficult situations but more and more I’m challenging myself to just stay.
This is me staying and living to tell about it. Thanks for coming along on my journey!