Painful Step

Over the last couple months I have been going out of my way to meet new people, create new relationships and make new friends. I understand that I must begin a new life without Gaye and with that, a new Identity will encompass me moving forward.

Cultivating this new "Identity" is such a struggle and challenge for me internally!

I have been told that this is a vital step in my healing from the grief and sadness. (God, I'm getting tired of these new steps and learnings that has been thrust on me)

This so called "vital step" is just so damn painful to me. I loved with every cell in my body being identified as Gaye's Husband. From the first moment I met her at a wedding on November 10, 2001, I felt so blessed that this incredible Angel somehow, inexplicably fell in LOVE with ME. (I am still amazed and surprised at that thought everyday)

Gaye believed in me before I believed in myself. She picked me up from the depths of insecurities and shallow spirituality and soaked me with true love, commitment and Faith. Our identities became one and I loved every second of that perception. But now I am told I must shed my ole identity and begin to build a new one. The loss of that identity is devastating to me. I have a hard time articulating the pain of having to somehow divest of that identity Gaye and I forged and create one that only includes me.

Yes, I miss Gaye like I never thought I could… I miss her so much that I would gladly accept my own death just to be in her presence again… I ache from the time I get up until the time I lie back down and every single moment in between…

But somehow, as painful as the absence of Gaye is, the pain of losing that identity of both of us, is even worse.

How do I even begin to function when I don’t know who I am?

Husband? Gone.

Caregiver? Gone.

Best Friend? Gone

Lover? Gone.

Confidante? Gone…

Not only am I facing the loss of the very person I was supposed to spend the rest of my life with, but now I have to face this terrible loss with only a fraction of my own essence intact.

So, building a new identity is EVERYTHING if I plan on ever healing or being whole again.
I hate this step… it feels a bit like betrayal… it feels a bit like I am trying to “move on” from Gaye, but of course it’s none of those things. It’s just putting myself back together after half of me has literally disappeared.

I am just so scared to move forward, but I know that is what I have to do. Deep in my heart, I know, without a doubt, Gaye would want this of me. I pray and hope I have the strength to do it.

Stay tuned......

11 Month Mark Ache

It seems that with each passing day

I discover yet another piece of my past, my present, or my future that is now dead––another aching piece of myself that must now be mourned.
From my perspective, the task is beginning to appear daunting indeed.
I mourn my lost true love.
I mourn the lost future and all that it once promised.
I mourn the baby girl we will never have, and the baby boy I will never get to hold.

I mourn the European trips we so thoroughly planned
I mourn the lake house we will never both enjoy.
I mourn the long walks with Deacon we will never get to take, and the lazy afternoons watching movies and catching up on our favorite recorded TV shows.
I mourn the remission we believed in beyond all hope.
I mourn the pain and anxiety that Gaye experienced.
I mourn the “me” that used to be:
The one whose wife had never died in his arms.
The one who never knew the agony of nursing his one true love into eternity.
The one who believed that all would be OK in the end.
I mourn the fear that sometimes tortured Gaye––the fear I was powerless to take away.
I mourn the time when I had to be at work, instead of at home with my dear, frightened wife.
I mourn the “perfect past” that haunts me… those early days of dating and marriage (where have they gone?) before the word “cancer” became a regular part of our vocabulary.
I mourn my happiness.
I mourn my peace.
I mourn my youth.
I mourn my love.
I mourn my life.

I mourn my Gaye.

Castaway

The day goes by like a shadow o'er the heart,

With sorrow, where all was delight.

- Stephen Foster

Sometimes it is so hard to remember how life felt to me before this loss shifted the ground beneath me. I now mark events with a kind of "first time since Gaye has died" syndrome. At first the events are mundane - The first time I watched a certain TV show.... the first time I went to a party.... the first time I had a certain type of food. Then the seasonal milestones come along - The first fourth of July.... the first birthday... the first time a ran into a certain friend, and so on. And all of them shadowed by the loss that darkens everything I do, everything that happens. I wonder if it will always be so, and if so, how can I bear it?

Sorrow takes up the whole landscape. "Will joy come again?"

Great Spirit, now I pray to you...

Great Spirit, hear me;

My soul is weary,

Now I pray that your spirit will dwell in me.

-Kiowa Prayer

Grief is so damn tiring. The Sadness, Sorrow and loss saps my strength and resolve. There are so many to help me - I have some great Friends, family and of course, Deacon. Still a pervasive sense of fatigue and even despair, can seem my constant companion. I will myself to keep the faith. In fact, I know now is the time to embrace it. I really have no other choice. I ask God: "Come to me. Fill me with your presence. I cannot handle this by myself. HELP ME. Be my energy and my rest."

Spirit, whoever you are, wherever you are, be with me now!

One of Gaye's favorite movies was "Castaway". As Tom Hanks was being stranded and lost all hope for surviving, logic told him that there was indeed no hope... Tom made a conscious effort to continue breathing and live one more day, Against all logic, a sail washed ashore one day and Tom was able to get off that Island and re-join civilization.

With my Sadness, logic tells me I will never be able to overcome this grief. But with God's grace, I will keep on breathing and attempt to move forward every single day.

I guess you never now what the tide might bring in.

I will keep you posted.