He died two weeks ago today. My life stopped two weeks ago
today. It began again with one step this morning.
The first week after he died, I felt numb. I could do
nothing except cry and lay still.
Last week, every single thing I attempted to do outside of mind-numbing
binge-watching movies and shows ignited a near panic attack. My counselor
walked me through an exercise to try to bring on a panic attack and walk
through it. So much anger and resentment and hurt came up, so much that I
thought I had already dealt with or thought were not an issue – anger at Brad, myself,
God, and others.
Anger with myself for always needing to do the right thing for
everyone else. Anger at Brad for forcing my hand. Anger for all of us never
once considering my needs and wants. Doing the right thing cost me dearly and
no one seemed to notice or care. The most shocking – anger at Brad for leaving
me once again – and this time for good.
I had no idea we had had such a history of coming and going.
I should have realized it, but it took his final leaving to make me see. I
always said that when Brad was good, he was really good. After his death, his
wife echoed a similar sentiment. When Brad was good, he had a heart and soul of
gold. It was just that other guy. Yep. That other guy was evil, but it was the
guy with the heart of gold who kept us all hanging on, staying close, hoping
and waiting. Our lives truly did revolve around Brad and now that he is gone,
where does that leave us? Where does that leave me?
This week, the anger is gone, but the fear is letting him go
for good this time. I am afraid of losing him. The mantra that keeps replaying
in my head is “Brad is dead. I am alive.” I cannot get him back and I cannot
stop living because he is dead.
During one of my mind-numbing television watching, I saw a
movie called Wake. It was about this woman who worked and lived in a mortuary.
She had not left her house in three years – ever since her husband died. Every
time she tried, she suffered a major panic attack and ran back inside. She
couldn’t even leave the house to go on a date with James Denton!
I saw myself in this woman – what could become of me if I
don’t get a grip on my life? COVID-19 has given me a wonderful excuse to
isolate, but to isolate too much would be detrimental to my mental health. And
besides, I never want to get so bad that I refuse a date with a man like James
Denton!!!
Spoiler alert – toward the end of the movie, this woman’s
mom dies, and her daughter runs away. The woman is sitting in her car, too petrified
to go. Her dead mother comes to her in a vision and tells her that in order to
overcome her fear, she is going to have to discover something that scares her
even more. Losing her daughter scared her even more than leaving the house.
Today, I took the first step toward living again. I went for
a walk/jog. One of the songs that came on during my first venture out was one
of my favorites – Sara Bareilles’ Brave. I thought to myself, it’s amazing how something
that used to be so routine is now something brave.
I thought about what the dead mother told her daughter and I
realized that, for me, the fear I have which is greater than letting go of Brad
is to die while I am still alive.
When I returned home, I sat by my prayer garden for the
first time in two weeks. I talked to God for the first time in two weeks. I
felt Him with me every moment for the past two weeks, but I finally spoke. This
has been the hardest thing I have ever had to walk through in my life – harder even
than the divorce or cancer. Never once did I feel Him leave me. Two things
occurred to me as I sat there:
- I do have a heart. For all these years, I’ve been trying to find my heart, knowing that I am more of a head thinker. I have been working so diligently since the divorce to build my emotional intelligence. I am like the tin man, coming to the wizard for a heart only to discover one was there all along.
- This thing is rough enough with God by my side. How in the world does anyone do it without Him?
I have a tradition at my prayer garden whenever faced with
something I cannot deal with alone, something too much for me to handle. I
write it in one or two words on a piece of paper and then I burn it. I take the
ashes and scatter them at the foot of the cross and then pour water on the
ashes. The water started out as a safety measure but turned into a symbolic
gesture of planting my prayers.
Today, I planted Brad. Today, I continue taking one small
step at a time back to life.
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