The End

I knew this day was coming, but I didn't quite know when. In the past month I've been saying that I will end this blog, but then a new thought crops up and I write about that. And then another and another. Then there was this thought: am I reliving my grief or reviving my grief through the entries in the blog? When does one let go of an almost formal way of approaching one's loss and begin to return to the world of the living? I know I will be blindsided in some way with a memory of Janell triggered by who-knows-what, but do I have to almost obsess and imprint my grief by writing (and crying) about it?

Well now, my life is transforming. As I've written before, I am seeing someone, someone I am really beginning to care about. I'm transforming my work from being an employee to being in charge; I'm thinking about my future and imprinting memories of the past on the walls of my heart; I am trying to let go of the pain and find some joy.

The last year and a half has been so painful. I have been hurt, but I have learned that I can heal, I am resilient, I have friends and family who love me and whom I love, I have a future, if only I can step out of the door of my grief into the world. It's scary and it's exciting and it has the potential to be wondrous!

I want to thank all of you who have faithfully followed this blog and sent me you thoughts (and prayers, too, I bet!). This has been a true learning experience - now I need to implement the learning.

Let the journey begin!

The Ship of Life

I was originally going to title this "A Foot on the Dock - A Foot on the Deck" and then I realized my former life was not static, as a dock could be conceived. It was life in motion, with Janell. Our marriage was an ocean voyage, with beauty, danger, adventure, fun and ultimately grief. I continued to sail on that ship, feeling loss, pain and hopelessness. For a time, my ship was dead in the water. The currents moved on, the sun rose and set, the seasons changed, and I stayed below, alone and lost.

Gradually my ship began to do more than drift with the tides. I woke up, I came on deck, and life began to stir. I still grieved the loss of Janell - I still do. She was my essence, my joy, and my partner. I didn't feel lonely, I felt only grief and loss, and little else. I never thought I could ever cope; I never thought I would ever heal; I never thought I would ever consider another relationship. How could I - it would be disrespectful to my love for Janell and far too dangerous - I never wanted to put myself in a position where I might feel the hurt that losing Janell brought into my being.

And then a friend reached out and I felt something - attraction, warmth, connection. It was (and is) frightening and comforting at the same time. She understood and accepted my grief; she respected the lifelong connection I have with Janell; she was willing to stand on the deck of this ship and see where it will take us, us meaning Janell's memory and the two living souls. Life seems to be an adventure again, filled with potential. I now feel the currents; we now watch the sun rise and set; we enjoy the changing seasons; and we stay on deck and hold hands.