We have begun our first revolution around the sun without Emily in it. One of the things I don’t want is to fixate on dates and times, assigning despair and longing to every holiday, every event. Rather, I want move forward with courage and comfort.
Shifting my gaze from what I don’t want to what I do want is a concept I have been playing with. For example: I want to stop having nightmares/I want to have a peaceful sleep; I don’t want to cry every time a picture of Emily pops up on my computer/I want to look at little surprises of or from Emily, smile and say, “Hi there my little peanut!”; I don’t want to be triggered by scenes from TV, books and movies/I want to notice my emotions when something reminds me of Emily’s passing and think, “I am not alone in this grief.” Doing this is not disregarding my feelings, but rather acknowledging them and gently moving forward, shifting my gaze from the past to the present and the future.
Our eldest daughter Charlotte’s anxiety comes out as she’s getting ready to end her day with us, when we are bidding her goodnight. Mine is also most pronounced before bed. So we’ve started a little ritual of naming what we are doing in the moment: Here we are in Ellen and Kal’s basement in our pajamas, knitting our scarves. Then we say what we are feeling: I am feeling anxiety right here in my chest. Finally, we thank the emotion for attempting to protect us, but then firmly let it know that it can now leave our respective houses. And we put it on our palms and gently blow it away.
Don and I are slowly repopulating our lives with people we love, allowing them to enter our small inner circle. It’s easier to be with people now – we have more stamina and actually find ourselves receiving sustenance from folks rather than being drained by them. We’ve moved into a new phase. On new year’s eve, we went to see friends Jeanie and Steve for a cozy few hours. We had roasted veggies and pot roast and fresh pears and blackberries with fresh grated nutmeg for dessert. There was talking and knitting and poetry; it was the equivalent of a warm hug. Curiously, coming together with gentle people is providing energy.
So, yes, we are gently meandering our way into our new normal. Every day it shifts a little. We are going gentle…