October 14, 2005
The physical impact of grief on me has taken me by surprise. Emotionally I thought I knew what to expect, but the nausea, cramps, feeling light headed, being constantly thirsty, and feeling wobbly when I stand, have all taken me quite by surprise.
Over the past few days I’ve been quite active preparing for this morning’s memorial service. I know that I was using the need to get things done as a way of “self medicating.” While there are still some odds and ends to be dealt with I’m now faced with a normal schedule. As if anything will ever be normal again.
As I type this I realize that the hurt inside is unexpressed emotion. I’ve cried on and off every day this week, but I don’t think I’ve had a good unrestrained cry yet. In the past whenever I needed to express something deep through tears I always turned to Michele. She would hold me and comfort me and allow my tears to run their course. Then we would talk and I’d find the truth of the situation and be able to move on. I think I have been avoiding letting the floodgates open because I am afraid I’ll be swept away by the grief, and because I have no safe place to fall any more.
A part of me is angry at her for leaving me, and leaving me with all this emotion to deal with. The bitter irony of this situation is that every time some one calls, or there’s a special gesture with regards to Michele, I want to tell her all about how wonderful, caring, sweet, and loving the people around me are. Only she isn’t beside me physically now. I have to tell her in my heart.
I know better than to shoulder this grief by myself. I just don’t know where to turn yet to find a place of solace and comfort. For there was no place of refuge greater than in the arms of my sweet, glorious Michele.