A Letter to My Beloved

Where to begin?

How does my mind articulate my heart and soul? How does my conscious clarify my subconscious?

Life. Death. Pain. Love. Four words with infinite intersectionality. There's no right or wrong way to love. There's no right or wrong way to deal with pain. There's no right or wrong way to grieve. There's no right or wrong way to show support.

When a loved one dies, everything becomes unstable. At the same time, everything becomes clear. I've never seen such poise and integrity in handling the most difficult decisions imaginable when it comes to the process of burying a Son/Husband/Father/Friend. People are listening intentionally to each other when they usually speak over each other. People I have never hugged have soaked my shoulder with tears. People afraid to show love have it radiating from their eyes.

Everything is the same. But everything is different. All the roads we drive on are the same, but the destinations carry new significance. The people we see on a daily basis are the same, but all of our perspectives have dramatically shifted. We go to sleep everyday, but it seems like wasted time. We wake up, then we cry.

I have yet to drop a tear. I am incapable. Even when I put my dog down, holding his chest, feeling the last rattle... Even when I see your 4-year-old draw his masterpiece for his daddy... Even when I held your 11-year-old trying to fill the hole in his heart and soul... Even through your cold, shuddering, helpless tears. Tears are validating for some people. I worry everyday that people don't think I care.

The death of your husband brings about feelings of impossibility. I wasn't close to his family. But I am close to your children. Although it would be difficult to sum up the magnitude of the relationship between you and your late husband, we have talked about it often. I was always a little jealous of your relationship. Watching you two be together, it's clear to me that you understood each other, the good and the bad, better than anyone else on the planet. The way you interacted, spoke to each other, listened to each other, and supported each other, it was clear that their souls are deeply intertwined. That kind of understanding of another human being is rare and beautiful. It's something I have never experienced. Something for you and I to build together. Something I am willing to commit to for the rest of my life.

It's impossible to imagine the pain you feel. Pain is directly proportional Love. And you loved him beyond words. I imagine that the ripping of the soul is hell. Watching your soul tear to pieces is my hell. At the same time, it's important to recognize that it's a necessary process. Don't feel bad. Don't hide it. I would rather be there for you through hell than away and comfortable in my own world. I'd walk through the fires to help you.

During times of stress, I always feel the internal battle of wrestling with my sanity. I feel like my emotions, my livelihood, my sanity, and my very being is encased in a glass ball that gets thinner and thinner when times get harder and overwhelming. I fight to keep the the ball intact because I despise the feeling of losing it all. I loath the feeling of losing my self. So when I cry, you should know that the glass has broke.

When people tell me that "just being there helps," I think to myself that it's not good enough. Even if it is enough for some people, for me it's not. Just being there is succumbing to feelings of hopeless helplessness. It kills me to have to rely on time to make things "better" when time isn't reliable.

The hardest part is helping by getting out of the way or leaving you alone. You needed time alone with his body. You need to sleep next to your kids.

Life brings people together.

Death brings people together.

Pain brings people together.

Love brings people together.

If When you and I get through this, we will be strong, as individuals and as a couple. I have faith in our life. I believe in our love. You are the One. I love you. You and your children's tears are forever embedded within my chest. I want us to grow roots together. I want our branches to intertwine. I want our trunks to meld.

Where to begin?

Truly Yours,
Me

P.S.
As I was driving to work the other day, I passed a farm. It was a field of young corn (I think) that looked like tall grass. The wind was blowing and the sun was low and it hit the grass just right so it looked like the waves of the ocean. It was peaceful. It was serene. It was precious to me to see two beautiful landscapes being combined into one and making a memorable moment. The whole scene reminded me of you. It was on the rolling hills, with the Rocky's in the background, your favorite landscape. It was reminiscent of the oceans, which I associate with your stay in Maine. But mostly, it reminded me of the deep conflict within you, to miss your husband and love him while being with me and loving me. The landscape reminded me that it is possible to bring together two completely different loves into one entity and create something beautiful, peaceful, comforting, and perfect.

I love you.