Seeing Beauty in the Destruction

It’s funny peculiar, versus haha, when grief returns for an unexpected visit so long after your death. This weekend it caught me by surprise and came with the force of tropical storm (or maybe even hurricane) winds arriving without the warnings of meteorologists that such an event was on its way.

The body and soul react while the mind is oblivious at a conscious level.

In my case the storm blew in with a serious dose of lethargy and fatigue. The first couple of days my mind blamed it on the heat wave we’ve been experiencing in between wondering if I had a health issue. The daily doses of caffeine in the form of java, cold, rich and smooth, couldn’t keep it at bay as I tried to ignore the way I was feeling and just keep attending to life’s demands and responsibilities.

By late Sunday morning I caved and began seeking shelter from the onslaught of fatigue. Realizing it was futile to resist its intensity, I simply let it wash over me and I reduced my activities to essentials only.

Then came the day of the wonderful thanksgiving feast with family and friends, and I “blamed” the further fatigue intensification on turkeyitis.

Twenty-four hours later as I was reflecting on all that I am thankful for, from the depths of my unconscious and subconscious, the proverbial lightbulb shone through the fatigue. I realized that this was the weekend that we first met. I am grateful for that, but nonetheless the tears fell at that moment of realization. It was at that moment that I recognized that my grief companion, Fatigoo (as I named him) who came to stay in those early years of my grief journey had surprisingly stopped by for yet another unannounced visit.

I am grateful for the life, friends and family, and experiences (planned and unplanned), that have been afforded me and brought moments of joy since your death. I am thankful despite thinking of you and missing you each and every day, even on those most painful of days that I pine for your physical presence with a ridiculous level of desperation that takes me to a place of sorrow and vulnerability.

This morning, it feels like Fatigoo may be packing up his things and planning a visit to another unsuspecting soul.

I share this little story and my thoughts, not for sympathy or sorrow, but in the hope that others who find themselves on the journey of grief find it a helpful barometer as they wade, moment to moment, along the path of rebuilding a life without their soulmate.