I thought I was doing okay until I came to the place where I realized that there never again would truly be an “okay” in my story. I realized that a part of me would always feel and be broken. There would always be a story that I’d never get to see opened, lives that I’d never be able to create and dreams I’d never again be able to dream. I realized that the happiest times of the year would no longer be the happiest; they'd feel as if they were the worst. I realized that the “what if’s”, as beautiful as they seemed, are dangerous and potent. I realized that no matter how hard I cried and no matter how deeply I longed to be held by him, he was never coming back. I realized it would all, never truly feel real. I realized that my life story would always have a “before” and “after” his death. Most importantly, I realized that there was no solution to the problem of all the pain.
And I knew all these things. I knew all of them well. But I relearn then every day, in a new way. I see how these realizations shape my thoughts and actions. They are not circular and they are not angular either. They are just there. And they come and go. Giving and taking as they please. Such is grief.