"I will not say, do not weep, for not all tears are an evil." - J.R.R. Tolkein.
I have cried more in the past week than I have ever cried before in my life.
How long, how many tears, does it take to dry up a tear duct? I don't think that I want to. What happens if you can't let out the sorrow, the grief, the hurt? Where does it go? Deep inside your stomach, your heart? Does it fester away in some dark, secret part of the core of your being?
"Grief can destroy you --or focus you. You can decide a relationship was
all for nothing if it had to end in death. OR you can
realize that every moment of it had more meaning than you dared to
recognize at the time, so much meaning it scared you, so you just lived,
just took for granted the love and laughter." - Dean Koontz
All the moments I shared with Eric, every time I assumed he would be around forever, available by phone within 30 seconds, no matter if he was asleep, awake, or busy... All the memories I have of him rescuing me from various parts of Boston.... The night he looked at Max and I and waited until Max had gone to the restroom before saying, "You will be together forever" (or, in his accent, "You'll be togethaaaaaa forevaaaaaaa") after despising every single one of my previous boyfriends.... me telling him I was going to start lifting and him running upstairs to gift me a tub of protein, glucosamine, chondroiton, a multivitamin, fish oils...
These moments, these brief glimpses of a life well lived, are gifts. They are forged of gold. Losing Eric is teaching me an unforgettable lesson about taking things for granted; about how much small moments really do mean.
Grief will focus my love for Eric, his family, all the memories we shared. It will also sharpen my desire to be the best person I can be - to try to produce a tenth of the goodness he brought into the world; to change the world for the better, like he did.
"Shock is a merciful condition. It allows you to get through disaster with a necessary distance between you and your feelings." - Lisa Kleypas
Shock and horrible, horrible confrontations with reality are seesawing back and forth, back and forth, to and fro, in my heart and head. I'm taking deep breaths and submitting myself to this crazy coaster ride. I'm so blessed to have my big (a little too small for my taste now), supportive, loving family and Max - who has been a tremendous help - and his family.
I'm not naive enough to think that I will ever be over this tremendous, shocking, terrible loss. There will always be sadness. I'll always wish for him to be back with us if only for one more day. I know it will get more manageable, that I will get better at dealing with it. But it's still so raw. It's all I can write about right now.