“I just want you to be happy.”
It’s all she ever told me. About what came after. About the life I would have when she was gone.
“I just want you to be happy.”
It was short but succinct, from the deepest depths of her reservoir of love that she held for me. There were other things we discussed of course. Things only I will ever know. Things just between us. But her hopes for my future, my life, and what will come in the months and years ahead were to be the same in death as she held for me in life.
“I just want you to be happy.” I’m trying Linda.
You read plenty of literature online about grief and the algorithms of my social media accounts certainly have me sized up. “Warrior Widows”, “In Their Footsteps,” and plenty of other pages keep popping up as I scroll on devices during the day. But generally, they have it down pat. Lived experience, I guess.
Grief comes in waves, as all those who have lived through it will tell you. I’m not Robinson Crusoe. Thousands, nay, millions suffer through it every day and I imagine it’s much the same no matter colour or creed.
I’ve had a pretty good day. Not too sad. Not too bad. Thinking about life and the future. Positive things. Future things.
“I just want you to be happy.”
I went for a good walk. Tried to find some paperwork to no avail. Cooked dinner. Had a laugh whilst watching television. I walked through my darkened dining room and propped, trying to find my thoughts and it happened again.
The dark scowl returned to taunt me and in the gloom of the evening in my home, my familiar place became unfamiliar again. The missing pieces of my life overwhelmed me, and I thought of Linda and how strange, how odd it was to be here without her. For a moment, in my mind, she was here again. Then reality returned and bit deep.
“I just want you to be happy.”
I am happy. But I’m sad as well. The two emotions co-exist in their own Cold War. I’m moving along but the battle scars still twitch occasionally.
I like to think that beyond space and time something remains for us to feel and connect to who we were. To know it was all worthwhile. It’s the great unknown. I have my doubts, but I hope I’m wrong.
Life is still a conundrum, a puzzle I’ve yet to work out, a ship without a rudder.
I’m happy. But I’m still sad as well.
Until next time.
