I know that this is going to sound weird but grief is actually quite interesting.
I have been trying so hard to outwise/ outwit? the effect that this terrible grief is having on me. Okay, so the grief itself is a given and it’s understandable that I would be grieving for Anthony; that’s not pleasant, but it’s okay.
It’s how this grief translates into everyday life that is the real challenge. For example it is so tiring to be so tired of grieving, to be so tired of my own tiredness, tired of myself, tired of crying, tired of not being able to cry, tired of trying so hard not to be tired.
Grief is exhausting! I can just imagine telling Anthony about this and it makes me laugh because he would have rolled his eyes and sighed at my ridiculousness in trying to figure grief out. He wouldn’t have offered clichés like ‘move on’ or ‘you need to get out and about more’ and I don’t even think he would have said, ‘I wouldn’t want you to be so sad, Jules’. Instead, he would have said ‘do what you want, Jules’ and I know for sure that he would be secretly chuffed that I miss him so much. His heavenly ego will be getting a rush.
Anthony adored me. Even though it took him over a decade to realise it, he made up for lost time very quickly and I think I am one of the luckiest people in the world to have had such a fantastic marriage. I wasn’t this long-suffering carer of a sick husband (which is probably the perception – you know, the dutiful wife); I was cared for by him. Every time I saw him in the nursing home, the joy in his face was the joy I took home with me, no matter how poignant.
Grief is often seen as the loss of someone you love and of course this is true but isn’t it also true that you miss being loved? I do. It’s not that I want to be adored per se (despite being a blogger – paradox alert); I just want Anthony’s adoration.
And, like a kid outside a closed candy shop, that’s my face pressed against the reflection of the impossible.
Grief is interesting. And so is getting wise to it.
jmgoyder 
I’m not surprised you find grief tiring, Julie. It’s the repetitious day in, day out, of just being….almost frozen in time. It’s like a mirror has eaten your image and continues to show a reflection to the world and yet, that reflection is merely a replica of the real you. Sounds like you are at that in-between phase, not in, not out.
This is not such a terrible thing. It’s an opportunity to explore your inner self and your emotions ‘with a fine-toothed comb’ as we say. It’s a time of transition.
But not yet time to open your heart to the new.
It’s a time of starting to open a door, with your hand still on the door knob, and suddenly you’re struck with the whole idea of….. will I or won’t I (finish opening this door).
An excellent analysis of your feelings. You can put emotions into words very well.
and there are so many layers to it – it’s ever evolving
I am going to return to this time and time again.
Interesting…the idea that we miss being adored by the one we have lost. During my divorce, which bears some similarities to losing a spouse to death, I imagined that my husband still adored me and that his other women were only superficial playthings. That thought sustained me through the grief. Death can’t offer that shred of comfort, unless you believe in the idea that we are reunited with our loved-ones after death. (That presents a whole new set of complications.)
I also liked your “It’s not that I want to be adored per se (despite being a blogger – paradox alert)” Your self-effacing style keeps your writing readable even when the subject is despair.
An interesting thought. I never thought of the idea that part of your grief would be to miss being adored. But it makes sense. Anthony was your world and you were his. You are missing a part of yourself and you have the right to grieve.
I’ve had my share of grief too. It is exhausting and tiresome…Thank-you for sharing your thoughts 🙂
I wish there was a way to ease your sadness…Just know that people care.
Grief is not something I have had to deal with and hope it is years before I do have to deal with it
It is so very believable about missing the fact that the husband who ‘adored and loved’ you, is not there… Of course you would feel that. I’ve been around several women, my sister and a few friends who have uttered similar thoughts.
When we have a loving relationship we are ‘affirmed’ by the other person… probably on a daily basis…. I can understand how it would be difficult when there is now a lack thereof… Diane…
“Grief is often seen as the loss of someone you love and of course this is true but isn’t it also true that you miss being loved?”
Yes!
I was reading a history book called The White Cascade, about a railroad disaster. One of the main characters (an important railroad man) died years later of a heart attack at age 64. Throughout the book, his good marriage to a woman 14 years younger had been lovingly documented in letters and telegrams. When he died, his wife wrote a letter that reminded me of you and of one other person I know who had such a great marriage. To their daughter, his widow wrote, “Our love has been the proudest thing in my life. Even the memory of a love like that is richer treasure than most lives ever know.”
Thinking of you a lot.
You express yourself so well, especially saying what you miss.
Wow — so wise, and so very touching. And, yes, so accurate.
I’m reading Virginia Woolf’s A Room of One’s Own along with Muriel Rukeyser’s The Life of Poetry and becoming aware of the necessity for the integrity of truth in reporting our experience. You do that so well, it become poetry. Thank you.