Last night I began watching a movie and had to turn it off after the first 5 minutes due to its content. I’m pretty sensitive, so that isn’t rare for me. What was different for me this time, though, was the fact that I immediately wanted to curl into Chris’ chest and lament over the evils of this world, but I couldn’t. He would have held me and tried saying something goofy to distract me. I could just hear him, “Oh love… just some snuffs”, *snuff* *snuff*, and I would giggle and snuff him back. Snuffs were one of the many actions of affection we made up. I won’t get into detail to keep it special between Chris and I, but I wish to be snuffed by him again so badly. So, I cried. Let me tell you how sick I am of crying! I have always hated to cry and now I am crying just about every day. It is driving me mad. The only thing that helps is that I read it has a scientific, chemical purpose in the grieving process, so I will let it slide.…for now. 

Evenings are the hardest for me by far. I believe it is because of the quiet. I’m not busy with the hustle and bustle of the day, so I have nothing to distract me from the onslaught of emotion when I am just laying there in bed. Not to mention, Chris and I did spend a lot of time in bed as he got sicker. The bed was our place of solace. It was us and the pups and Netflix, and we would cuddle and talk. It was our own little safety bubble, protecting us from the pain of moving and the stressors of life. Damn, I miss that so much. I think the fact that I still have our pups is the only thing that is keeping me somewhat emotionally stable. Blaze and Yuki are my own little grief counselors. I don’t know what state I would be in without their presence. While we didn’t have children, Blaze and Yuki are a piece of Chris that he left behind for me to take care of. They are our babies. Even as he neared his death, he expressed his concern about leaving me and the pups behind to fend for ourselves. They were apart of the equation just as human children would have been. I promised him we would all be OK, so I am trying to keep my promise. Staying afloat. 

One of the greatest things I am struggling with is the fact that Chris became MY PERSON and not having him here makes it so difficult to cope with anything. He was the only person on this planet who was instantly my person and will remain the only person to ever walk this planet to be that for me. So when I say I cry because I couldn’t just roll over and curl into his chest, I mean only his chest. I don’t want just any human support, it is his support I want. I crave. It makes me feel uncomfortable just thinking about seeking emotional support from any other human. That’s just not what I want. That was never what I wanted before I met Chris. Chris was simply my person. So, it is the most devastating and confusing feeling when you are facing the most intense pain of your life and you can’t turn to the only person you would turn to. That is the best way I can put it into words. I am sure that must be normal though. I mean, we marry our spouse because we want to be one with them. We are each other’s person. I can’t imagine I am alone in this conundrum of despair. My person is gone, my person is who I want to turn to in my grief over my person being gone. You see?

I suppose that is a normal part of the process though. It just feels the most difficult. My soul just has to stretch farther to reach my husband now. Maybe that is part of the pain. And maybe with exercise and practice, the pain of the stretch will lessen. We will see.