The magic of time

My grief has been the focus of my life for the past year and a half – I devoured it as much as it devoured me, it’s been all consuming.  I’ve been a faithful servant of that grief; I fed it, nurtured it and kept it safe. We were attached, that grief and I – we slept together, walked together and sometimes just sat in lonely contemplation together. We were never far apart – even when grief took a breather from me I knew exactly where it was and how to call it home.

I think I began to depend on grief and it started to define me.  Grief became my conduit to memory, my inspiration.  I didn’t realize I had taken the focus off who I was grieving – I’d become fixated on the empty space, not the person.  When I thought about who I was missing grief jumped in and stole the show – it shone a spotlight on the hole.

I’m starting to be able to see past the hole and revisit joy, I’m starting to separate grief from the person I’m grieving.  The ache in my heart seems to be changing, perhaps it’s maturing, mellowing, settling into something easier to carry.  It certainly isn’t gone – I can pick the scab off it anytime I want, but it isn’t as itchy anymore.

I’ve been slowly letting go of grief and finding I can still cherish the person I’m missing.  Perhaps this is the magic of time people told me about.  I didn’t believe them – my grief was too big, its grasp too tight.  It appears time is sneaky, its magic subtle – it pushed days into weeks and rolled the weeks into months and now the years are beginning to pass.  My reluctance to heal has been quietly whittled away, my devotion to grief is waning. 

I still  worry when grief slips my mind, when I find myself living a happy moment and actually feeling it.  I worry that I’m fickle.  I worry I’m being unfaithful.   But I’ve discovered these worries are attached to grief not the person I’m missing. Many times my happy moments are inspired by memories of the very person I’m grieving.  By letting go of grief I can see the memory more clearly.  

It can’t be wrong to let time’s magic happen. If I let grief continue to cloud my memories  I diminish them.  If I feel guilty about feeling happy I kill happiness.  It is time’s job to work magic – I just have to let it.