John and I went away for a few days. It’s the first trip we’ve really taken in the 6 months that Mike has been gone. We figured it would do us both good to get away, have a change of scenery.
Don’t get me wrong. It was a beautiful trip. I loved the way time with my husband, but there was another traveling companion that joined us on our trip. This companion, grief, shadowed my every move. It wove itself into every view, every moment. My brain thought that since I would be in a new place, around people who didn’t know my story that my grief would sort of take a back seat. That it would wait at the house until I got home. I didn’t want complete strangers to see how broken I felt. I didn’t want them to see my sadness. I hoped that the conversations would stay light, and we wouldn’t get in to talking about our families.
Well, that’s not how it works. The pain of loss, grief, has no boundaries. It doesn’t care how serene or beautiful the setting is. It has no respect for the tranquility of your surroundings. It doesn’t care if you’re around total strangers. It follows you. An uninvited guest that lingers in the background, reminding you of the void left behind. Even in the heart of new places, around new people, it wraps itself around your thoughts. You stay busy, occupying yourself with new places and activities but its whisper is still there, tugging at your heartstrings, to let you know they travel with you wherever you go.
Amidst the laughter of strangers and the exploring of unfamiliar places, I found myself grappling with that now familiar joy/guilt paradox. You know the one! You realize you’re enjoying the moment and then you feel bad because you think you shouldn’t experience joy and sadness at the same time. As much as I tried to immerse myself in the newness of our surroundings, it felt as if grief had packed itself into my luggage, insisting on being acknowledged. So, I had to balance cherishing the beautiful moments with my dear husband, while honoring the ache that accompanied them. Perhaps, this is the way forward – to carry the weight of grief and allow it to coexist with the light of new experiences.
So, pack your bags, take that getaway, embrace the new experiences, but leave a little room in your suitcase for grief, it is part of our story. Not an obstacle, but a companion that expresses how much we loved and how much we have lost. In the quiet moments amidst your travels, find solace in knowing that your emotions are valid, and it is okay to feel them. Make new memories, for they are precious, and let them blend with the shadows of your grief. And as you return home, carry with you the strength gained from embracing both joy and sorrow, acknowledging that the journey of healing is an ongoing adventure.
Lynn
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