Three Months Since

It’s been three months since that awful night. I have to say that, even with everything I had been through before, I had never felt such excruciating pain in all of my life. Not even the pain of surgery or childbirth, or the pain of hearing a cancer diagnosis, or of losing my father, or even the pain of seeing my lifelong partner die before my eyes could prepare me for the sudden impact of your unexpected death. That night, the sound of my heart ripping in two rang in my ears and I felt I would die from the agony in my chest. I wanted to die. That pain echoed within me for weeks afterwards until it finally dissipated into the dull throb of an older, open wound. Now it is starting to heal over, and eventually it will scar. I have survived the worst of it, I hope. It occurs to me now that the pain of losing you was and is so severe because our joy together was equally as pure and intense. And for that joy I am so grateful. Even though the pain of loss was more violent than anything I have ever known, I would go through it again just to experience that joy. You are worth it. You really are.

You continue to bless me every day through the love we shared. You are the reason I can trust God again. You showed me that I am loved, I am worthy of love and that happiness can be found if we are open to it. We were both lost and wandering when we met and through each other we found hope again.

Our time was brief, but it was so beautiful. Your death taught me to live for today because we are not guaranteed our next breath. I have learned that I am stronger than I ever thought possible and that, by trusting God, I can survive just about anything. I miss you, I love you, and I weep for you today, but the memory of the joy is still with me and I will always be a better person for having loved you.

8 thoughts on “Three Months Since”

    1. I’m so sorry that you had to feel that pain. I wish that none of us did. I don’t know how long it has been for you, but I hope that you are able to find some comfort now. One of the ways that I am comforted is by focusing on the positive things I learned from the relationship and even the positive things learned from the death. Each death I have experienced in my lifetime has some lesson that can be gleaned from it, even if it seems senseless at first. It still doesn’t bring that person back and it doesn’t take away all of the grief, but it does bring some comfort to know that something was gained from the loss. Love and peace to you!

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      1. Glad to know you’re doing better. Me too, but once in a while it hits me. Let’s value the people we have in our lives. Show them the love while we have the chance. Yes, finding positive things, spending time with people I value and holding on to my faith give me comfort. Love and peace for the healing hearts! Thank you!

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  4. The last couple of days have been so busy for me after all the unexpected attention my recent Chernobyl post received. But, after your great comments on my site, I wanted to find a moment to sit down to check your blog out. I was so sad when I realised the purpose of your blog and the terrible loss you’ve suffered recently. I was very moved by this post. It is a beautiful tribute to the love you shared, a love that lives on in you. I admire the way you write so eloquently and truthfully about your grief, too.

    When I was 21, my younger brother was killed in a car accident. It was three days before his 18th birthday. The date of his accident was 26 April (the same date as the Chernobyl disaster). Today would have been his 42nd birthday.

    I’ve experienced the raw grief that happens in the first days, months, years after a terrible loss. It’s overwhelming. At first, the waves of grief felt like a tsunami. They came, relentlessly, one after another and I thought I might drown under the weight of it all. Over time, the waves got further apart. They never stop but, for me at least, the years have lessened the frequency and intensity of them. Although, even now, once in a while, an unexpectedly strong wave comes out of nowhere and knocks me off my feet for a moment.

    Sending my best wishes to you,

    Peter

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    1. Peter,

      Thank you so much for taking the time to read my blog and for sharing the experience of losing your brother. Grief is different for each person, but there is something so universally heart wrenching about sudden loss. It is comforting to know that others survive it and continue to live positive lives.

      Your Chernobyl piece deserved the positive attention it received. It was truly captivating! I look forward to seeing the next big project!

      Love and peace,

      Angie

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