Infinite Tears

Infinite Tears

My Tears

My Tears

I’ve been reading a lot of posts in different forums on Suddenly Widowed a group from Widowed Village and also on facebook. I know I’m drawn to them because it affirms things for me and also exposes me to things I haven’t thought of. I gain new perspective. I just had a new take on my tears. I have felt almost apologetic and guarded because I have cried every day since losing my fiancé to suicide 12/31/10.  When admitting that, I sense people step back emotionally as well as physically and assume I’m nuts or at the least severely depressed. The tears have ranged from consuming, wrenching anguish that frightened me, to warm, fond, sentimental longing and gratitude and everything possible a tear can represent.

Why was I thinking or measuring “progress” by an absence of tears? I know I’ve gotten stronger. I am quite tired of that word being attributed to me. I would gladly forfeit what others perceive to be my strength. I know my “strength” is the result of having endured. What they don’t see is the refining process: the ugliness, the consuming anguish, the doing the next thing through numb repetition, the somber, the solemn, the fear, essentially the release of unspoken liquid composition via my tears.That unsightly part is as unwelcome as speaking about death. Suicide doesn’t get talked about.

The clichés of being “over it” and going through it are meaningless to me. Dennis is part of who I am, eternally. His absence in the flesh should be evident in my life. How it plays out is where I need to put myself in check. Am I functioning? Am I looking forward as well as to the past? Am I taking care of myself? Am I stifling the grief or letting it have it’s time and space? Am I realistic (have I accepted he’s not coming back?) When the tidal waves topple me, do I get back up? Am I finding that I’m grateful for all that we did have together? Do I consider myself blessed and fortunate for his life and the impact he had on it, on me, and my children? Can I see the good in spite of the suffering? These are the ways I want to “measure” my grief. It will never be “over” as long as I am breathing. My life without Dennis is like stained glass. His essence colors my being clear through to my soul. He and I, our love, took on one form, now it is reassembled and still equally as beautiful. I was broken, and I’m putting myself back together. I’d like to believe I’m more beautiful on the inside because I was loved by my best friend. What he brought to my life is part of who I am. That makes him live on. We didn’t have children together, yet I love his daughters out of the love he had for them and I see evidence of his character in my children who are all richer for having known and loved him.

Change brings loss, yet I want to fill the void with the warmth that radiated from the best man I’ve ever known. In fact, I’m going to stop counting the days of my tears.That would make my love finite. It’s not. Loved doesn’t divide in life and death, it multiplies.

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