The Widow M at Two Years. How can it be

Two  Years.  Oh my love.  Oh my Love.  Two Years.  How can it be.  How have I survived two years without you?

Not gracefully that's for sure.

I cried at your grave today.  I screamed at your grave today.  No one heard.  Just the wind and God.

But yesterday.  Yesterday was different.

I have a friend.  Her name is Kim.  Her Patrick is buried in the same cemetery as you are.  When she visits Patrick, she visits you.  When I visit you, I visit Patrick.

She lost her beloved Patrick exactly 7 months after I lost you.  Yes.  On Christmas day.

I first met her at one of my Grief Groups.  She was a total basket case just like I was.  She wanted to crawl in the grave with Patrick just as I wanted to crawl in the grave with you.  
We didn't talk afterwards or anything.  

The following week I was at a different grief group, 30 miles away from the first one.  We had started  the meeting when someone opened the door and said that there was a girl wandering around outside looking for the Grief Group.  In walked Kim!  I jumped up and grabbed her and hugged her.  Bonds form quickly and inexplicably among bereaved widows.  And those bonds are strong.

It was Kim and another member of our Grief Group who organized the phenomenal picnic at the cemetery one year ago today, on the One Year Sadiversary of your death.

On Christmas morning, on her One Year, our Grief Group gathered at a restaurant for breakfast.  The dates mean a lot to us widows.  And our support for each other on those dates breathes life into our often lifeless selves.

Yesterday both Kim and I had off from work.  She took me out for lunch.  And then we went to the cemetery.

First we visited the grave of the wife of a new member of our Group, the group no one wants to join.  He had drawn me a map and we found her grave easily.  Then we went to visit Patrick.

And then she pulled out a blanket and drinks, and we sat with you.  We sat there for three hours.  We talked.  We cried.  We laughed.  We sat in silence.  It was a healing time.
No yelling at your grave.   Just peace and a sacred friendship borne of unutterable grief.

She has no idea what she did for me.

Or perhaps she does.  Yes.  She probably does.

Today I worked and I was busy.  God is good.  People asked if I was going to take today off and I said, no.  I want to stay busy.  Well, God kept me busy.  It was the busiest day I can remember in a long long time.

And then I had to leave.

I  went to visit you of course.  All alone.  On this horrible day.

I couldn't stay more than a half an hour or so because the poor puppy dogs had been inside for 12 hours. (I am so thankful that our dogs have 12 hour bladders).

And now I'm home alone.

I'm all yelled out. 

Two years.  And I still don't have the answers to the questions I have asked God for Two Years.

Why? Why did he allow it?  I'll probably never know this side of Eternity.  What am I supposed to do with my life?

But.  I am thankful for my Life with you.  Oh My Love.  No one deserves the love we had.  No one deserves the oneness we had.  But we had it.  No one deserves to have a perfect husband.  But you were.  You were absolutely perfect for me.  Perfect.  And that is what people keep telling me.  You have to be thankful.  I am thankful.  But I'm also greedy.  I wasn't done being your wife.  I wanted more time with you.  Like till the Lord comes back.

Why?  I'll never know.

But, My Kirkus, thank you.  Thank you for making me the most blest wife on earth.  

I love you always.  I miss you still

Pocket