The floodgates open

Last night, I had a dream that Avery and Marley and I went swimming at Turkey Creek, and the water was extremely high. Avery had jumped in the water, which made me panic, because he cannot swim so well yet, but there he was paddling away, as I know he can, and also, miraculously, breathing too. What a relief. I then turned to Marley who took her turn jumping into the dangerously high water. Lo and behold, she also could swim. Much better than I thought she could.

Somehow, that is comforting on a day when I can’t stop crying or feel anything but pain in my heart for what we’ve lost. Its funny, I’ve had several people ask whether things are getting better yet, and I feel like I’ve only just begun getting to that place of pain and sorrow that one may have expected would hit immediately after the death of a spouse.

Instead, at first I was eerily focused, matter of fact, and getting copious amounts of work done. I was beginning to wonder what was wrong with me.

Well the floodgates are open and now it feels that all that remains of my heart is a black hole. I keep thinking about that book I read as a child “Where the Red Fern Grows.” Something about two dogs that loved each other so much that when they died and were buried next to each other, a red fern grew between their graves, proving that their love was true or some such thing.

Despite our ups and downs, I truly believe that the red fern would be able to grow in the garden of love that Mike and I shared. Which makes all of this so much more painful.

Is it better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all??

One Reply to “The floodgates open”

  1. I admire your honesty and willingness to share. I see your dream about the kids as positive, that they will be able swim, despite danger and high water.
    I also can relate to your feeling about the red fern between you and Mike. Really, the kids will be the ferns that will continue to grow and thrive. Despite my different kind of loss, I’ve asked the same question you have, and questioned my answer. But in the end, I don’t regret having loved and don’t believe I would trade it, even with the pain, which may never really go away. But your friends and family will be here to help and support you, as you will do for them at times. I hope you can be gentle with yourself, and not expect life to be better or easier on any timetable. For better or worse,
    grieving seems to be part of the process that can’t be skipped or short-cut.
    I’m thinking of you often. Keep me in mind if you’re in a pinch. Suzanne A.

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