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Sunday, July 10, 2011

'Til Death Do Us Part....

Nine months and nineteen days. 9 months and 19 days.

That's how long we were married, before my Husband on Earth became my Angel Husband. It seemed so short, but with so much hope, so many plans and we were so excited about the future ahead of us. Together. Forever. Forever would never be long enough. We were excited, and we couldn't wait to get started.

Today, it has been nine months and nineteen days. 9 months and 19 days.

That's how long it has been since my Husband on Earth became my Angel Husband. Since God decided He needed him more than I did, more than his family and friends needed him, and more than my family and friends needed him. More than our Country needed him. I guess the Big Guy always does need to come first.

Now, that same amount of time seems so long ago; so exhaustingly long ago. The future seems so scary, so desperate, so unknown. So Alone. Forever seems way longer than it ever did before, and I am exhausted, although I just got started.

We talked in our premarital counseling about the whole "'Til Death Do Us Part" thing. That is actually how I have made most all of the decisions of my and our life, so far. Our talk, our discussion, and the seriousness in which we took these questions, helped to determine our future and has laid a path for us, and now, for me. Alone. We discussed the "What happens if the other should die". We both said our peace, do this, do that, and "Move On and Be Happy". We both said that, both fully meaning it, both really wanting the other to still be able to live a happy life, but we didn't know that it was actually going to happen, so soon, so suddenly. We didn't know that we would only have seven weeks physically together after our wedding, and only nine months and nineteen days together as husband and wife. At least I didn't know, until he geared up and walked away. Thank God he didn't let me believe it.

I am not ready. I am not sure I will ever be ready. If I am never ready, is that letting him down? Is that not honoring this direct request of his? I don't know, but I am not ready. Don't ask me if I want to date your cousin, your brother, your friend, your cousin's dog's dogsitter- the answer is No. And quite frankly, depending on the day, I may not even want to get dressed, or put on makeup or even leave the house. I try (although sometimes it isn't enough). I try because I care, and because I care about what you think about me, but I only want him. I. only. want. him.

I am not ready for the journey that I HAVE to embark on. I am not ready to not think that I can hold his hand again someday. I am not ready to think that this love I have for him is not two sided. I know it is, and I know it will be someday, but I am not ready to let go.

Sometimes, I can see the path that I have to go on, and I can approach it bravely, knowing that I have to do it. Other times, I want to scurry and hide in a corner. The Uncertain is scary. And, unfortunately, Life is much more uncertain than certain these days.

I didn't want to be the one left behind. I didn't want to be the one to leave behind, either. But, I know that is how he felt, too. Life is Not Fair. Life is Chaos. Life Hurts.

Who knows what the next step will be. I will probably never again have certainty with what I need, or even WANT, to do next. I was naive thinking that the next step would always be there, always be "in order". I was too trusting of the world to think that we had planned it, so it would be so.

Some things I know I want for sure is stability. I crave stability. I need a solid place to land my feet, instead of this constant rollercoaster. Who knows if I will ever find it. And I wasn't even used to the fact that I had it yet...

The thing that hurts (or, one of many, I suppose), is that I have no one that I am responsible for, who is also responsible for me. Or dependent, maybe is a better word. Or, maybe those are both two completely different things, actually. I can't be dependent on him, or him on me. But, we cannot be responsible for each other. No one counts on me anymore. Nor am I able to be counted upon right now either. I am free from that, but I am lonely because of it.

My grief seems to be saturated with horrible, awful, confusing, heartbreaking dichotomies and conflict. I don't know if this is normal. But it is me now. I apologize, but then again, I don't.

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