Last night I had a dream about Joe. I had a dream that he made a miraculous recovery. We were so happy and ran around celebrating for days. We were so happy we forgot to update our blog. People were still sending their sympathies while we were partying. Oooops.
When I woke up from this dream, I was surprised to find that I wasn't sad. I was just happy that I kind of had a few extra days to be with Joe.
The truth is, I've been really happy this past month. Ever since I left Chicago (I guess I haven't shared about that yet...) I have felt this incredible inner peace. My future still holds many unknowns, but my fear has transitioned to excitement. It's a strange feeling for sure - which would explain the tears I mentioned in my last post. Throughout this past year I've had plenty of happy moments, but I haven't actually been happy. If I had too much time to think, I would get sad. If I kept myself busy, I still returned to an empty home and I would get sad. I would sit by myself and feel lonely. I would surround myself with people and still feel lonely. It was a challenge to be real with people, because too often it seemed I would get some pat, generic response. Other times, I would feel smothered with too much concern. Then one day, I woke up and realized that I was happy. Truly, genuinely happy. There is a bit of guilt that creeps into this kind of happiness. Am I disrespecting Joe by being happy? Am I forgetting him? Clearly, the answer is no - although processing and accepting this is still difficult. But, Albert said, "We have been through so much, I think we're entitled to happiness." I'm O.K. with that.
Sunday, September 7 will mark one year since Joe died. That magical one year mark. The day that the world expects you to turn off your grief once and for all and never turn back. Somehow it sounds logical to people, "Well, you can finally move on now." Or, "Well, you have to move on now."
I don't actually believe in grief rules set by anyone. I don't believe in time lines. I don't believe you must be sad at every milestone. I don't believe that tears and sharing stories necessarily means you are holding on too tight. I don't believe that being happy and having fun necessarily means you are running away from grief. I don't believe that you must have alone time or you must surround yourself with people. It truly is a different process for everyone, and I think respecting those differences is important.
Anyway. Right now, I am happy. Yesterday, I was reading some of the cards that Joe sent me over the years, and they made me laugh. I can't believe I had the amazing privilege of being married to him. I feel so blessed.
It's a little early, but I really want to thank everyone for supporting me through this roller coaster ride. Every day I am amazed by how faithful so many of you have been. You have been so generous with your love, time, support, and patience. In my effort to be real about my feelings and experiences, I know that I've talked a lot about DGIs and people saying stupid things. The truth is, the love I've felt has trumped all that stuff I vented about. I wouldn't be where I am spiritually, mentally, and emotionally if I didn't have the amazing support that I have. I really am blessed.
