6 Weeks Later

5AMs are the worst.

The kids and I spent several days in Massanutten thanks to our friends, the Guerbers, who generously offered up their lovely vacation home.  We spent time relaxing, playing games, reading and reminiscing.  Massanutten has tons of things to do so we hit the water park, mini golf, and the kids even did some summer tubing and zip lining.  It was the perfect getaway.  Many many times we talked about Dave and laughed at memories of things he said and did.  We shared a few tears and one day emotions seemed particularly tender, but overall I would say the mood was light and fun.

Sunday morning I woke up at 5AM which is pretty typical for me.  This was different though.  I was so overcome with grief that I could barely breathe.  I got out of bed and tried to distract myself by looking at the computer.  Of course, that led to me scrolling through pictures which only made the whole situation worse.  Eventually I was able to shake all the sad thoughts that kept popping into my head and get myself under control.

I have decided that grief is not linear.  Things do not get a little easier every day.  For me, grief seems to be a continuation of the roller coaster ride.  You can be going along steadily and then out of nowhere the bottom drops out.  I would have never predicted my reaction on Sunday.  It felt almost as raw as those first days.

I have also realized that the spouse of the person who dies is in a unique position when it comes to grieving.  The kids come to me to talk and cry when they are sad.  I am certain that Kris and Jeff turn to their spouses when they are having a tough time of it.  And Dave’s parents have each other.  The person to whom I would turn to unburden my heart isn’t here.  So, I grieve alone for the most part.  At 5AM.  I’m okay, and it’s okay.  I just realize how much I leaned on Dave, and he leaned on me right back.  I miss that.

Six weeks sounds like such a long time.  Yet, it doesn’t feel like it has been that long since I talked to him, hugged him, held his hand.  Six weeks of time marching ahead taking me further away from him.  Unbelievable that somehow life goes on.

xoxo,

Robyn

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7 thoughts on “6 Weeks Later

  1. It is really terrible for everyone who has lost their father, son, brother, uncle, friend and so on, but you have lost your soul mate and like you say, he is not there, just when you need him most. I’m sure everyone is there for you, but it’s not the same. 5am is an awful time to feel alone – I shall make a point of thinking of you and sending you happy thoughts around 10am our time, so just remember you are not alone! And for that matter, if you want to talk, text or just connect when everyone else is asleep in the US (or at any time) I shall PM you my phone number on FB.

    Love Nickie x

  2. I’ve been sending prayers up for you and your children, but from now on I will be sure to send them out at 5am. Thank you for your blog…for all of us at Hayfield that have missed him greatly, this is such a blessing. I do hope that your roller coaster ride brings you more ups, more surprising signs like the orange car and serene starts to your mornings.

  3. You said it perfectly Robyn, “For me, grief seems to be a continuation of the roller coaster ride.” That is it exactly……I wish it was not, but it is…I am so sorry you have to grieve alone….I can’t imagine how desperately frightening and lonely that is…I don’t know if it helps, but we are here for you and we are praying for you…Love, Lisa

  4. I saw that orange outline today…not sure how I feel about that…I know that things go on and a principal search is underway, but I don’t like the outline of someone’s head…I mean really??? xo

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