Eight

March 2.  Eight months today.  Keyan died eight months ago.  I have moments when the anesthesia and auto pilot wear off and those moments can be brutal.  Pain is always the strongest as the numbness begins to fade.  That is where I am right now.  Settling in to the pain, working on being kind to it, working on getting comfortable with it because I can not change it.  As the pain begins to push its way through my fog, I am forced to revisit some moments with Keyan that until now my brain has dulled and kept the details blurry.  My minds lense begins to focus more and more and I ask myself heavy questions.  

• "How in the world did I ever turn to the driver from the funeral home, our gentle giant,  and tell him we were ready to take Keyan's body out of our home?"  
• "How did I stand in a circle in our yard with our pastor and family begging God to end her suffering and take her to heaven?" 
• "Why did I not throw myself on her body refusing to let anyone take her from me?"
• "How did I stand in the back of the gymnasium on the day of her funeral and physically close the lid to her casket?"
• "What was wrong with me that I could willingly watch the hearse drive away that day?"

Eight months ago, I had no idea how today would feel.  I had no idea how painful this world would feel despite having so much to be grateful for.  I had no understanding of how that day, and the 12.5 years before it, would leave me feeling so empty.  I had no idea that my hands would physically hurt without hers to hold and that my brain would continue to play tricks on me...convincing me that she would soon be sitting on her shoe bench once again.  Eight months ago I never could have imagined the ache and the hollow look in my eyes or the fear that comes from having your sense of security shattered. I could never have dreamed that I wouldn't want to be alone and yet feel so inadequate around people.  

Eight months in and I find myself in a new phase of grief....one that I didn't know existed.  One that takes so much work to move through and one that brings almost a new sense of loss.  The magnitude of the trauma is starting to sink in.  Life for most has gone on and even mine keeps moving through time with a lots of life happening.  But the longing in my soul to touch her hair, hear her voice, look into her eyes, disconnect her from her tubes, and just soak her in is ginormous and fights to be all consuming.  I have learned that I have to focus on the present moment at all times. If I think about "what was," the heaviness gets more burdensome and if I think about living the rest of my life without her, I can't breathe, so I stay right here, right now until I can return to the safe and sacred places I have created for myself.  Certain people, certain places, and sometimes just certain times in my day when I am ready and wanting to feel it all. I start to crack the door on the past and begin to make peace with the days that lie before me.  It is the card that I receive in the mail once a month from a friend reminding me that she cares, it is the meal that is brought every Tuesday by another friend to lessen the burden, it is the texts, the messages, the hugs, the tears that are shed both with me and for me, and oh so many other things that get me through.  Because despite my resistance, this eighth month will march on dragging me with it....with all of its highlights and pain.  

Today, the sun is shining, I have had the privilege of being able to speak her name, spend time in her room, and feel her presence near.  I have laughed about her and cried over her.  I have held space for all that this journey entails because it is my journey with her.