Learning to live with grief

The month of March used to herald spring, blustery days whispered winter was almost over and brighter days lay ahead. That isn’t what it’s whispering this year, this year it hasn’t heralded anything but the end of the month and it’s only whispering memories. 

Last March is a blur, I couldn’t tell you what was going on in the world or if it rained – but I do remember the air in our house was thick, I remember that like it was yesterday.  We were skirting issues and each other like dancers unsure of our steps – our rhythm was off, the music’s tempo uneven. I need only glimpse at those memories and a shadow shapes across my heart.

There are a hundred, no a thousand, things I’d like to say to him now – feelings I was afraid to voice lest I rock our unsteady boat, buckets of affection I was reluctant to show because I was so damned angry. Grief is walking hand in hand with me and together we are counting the days to the anniversary of his death. This March is the final month of the first year, we will never be able to say ‘last year at this time he was…’. again.  We started last April without him.

It seems grief has a pulse, it lives and breathes but it has no heart of its own – it pokes and plucks the one it has invaded. It surges and retreats with an energy stolen from the very middle of its host.  It is sneaky and relentless, just when you think you have a handle on it, boom!, it’s back – unbidden, un-wanted, undeterred.  Grief has ruled this house for a year – it arrived disguised as fear last March and morphed into full blown heartbreak in the time it took us to get our bearings. 

At first I put grief in the guest room thinking it was here for a visit – that it would eventually pack its bag and move on.  It was a messy guest – it left crap everywhere, muddied the water and polluted the air, it infected the entire house. Over the course of the year I’ve managed to contain it a bit and teach it some manners, but only by promising it a room of its own.  Grief lives here now and I have a feeling we will be roomies forever but we are learning to get along. 

The month of March marched in with a swagger, grief answered the door and has refused to go to its room all week. I’ve decided to give it permission to hang around for a while – the month of March has become its birthday and although I won’t be throwing it a party I think it’s okay to acknowledge its birth.