A Life, Lost.

I was trying to think of what to write today, as I haven't been writing too much lately, and today at my Grief Works group, I got the inspiration.

We've begun the task in our group of taking turns sharing. Each week, 4 of our group share about the person they lost. Today one of the ladies shared about her husband who passed away about a month before Barry. They had been married for 51 years. 51 years.

As she was sharing her story, I couldn't help but start crying. In fact, most of us cried while everyone else was sharing. Next week is my turn, so I need to prepare some stuff and get pictures/mementos ready as well.

Why did I start crying? Because the life that I was supposed to have is lost. A Life, Lost.

I grieve not only for Barry, but for the life that I was supposed to have. I was so lucky to have 11 years of him in my life, to love him for that long, but how I long for forever.

I don't deserve this life that I have now. How is it fair that the life I was supposed to have has been ripped from my clutches and tossed aside? The dreams that we had as a couple, for our family and our future and ourselves, have been LOST. They will never come to fruition. I will never get that 51 year anniversary with the love of my life.

Barry and I had our challenges in our marriage, as every couple does. We had the ups and downs emotionally, financially etc etc, but through it all, we still loved each other. We always stuck by each other, no matter what the difficulty we were faced with. We had the perfect marriage. We complimented each other so well, we were best friends, and we loved each other with our whole being.

I'm angry that I've lost my life. Everything that I planned on, is gone, is lost. What am I supposed to do now? I feel lost myself! I don't know what to do with my self. The only plans I have right now are to buy a home, and to go back to work or school once A is in school full time in 3 years. But what about after that?

How do I pick up the pieces and move forward?

There was no thought in my mind that Barry wouldn't get better. His death was not a possibility in my mind. I figured that we would get through this as best as we could, we would pick up the pieces and manage, and life would move on despite this little hiccup. I never in my wildest dreams imagined that when I brought him to the hospital on the night of October 5th that he would NEVER come home. Well wait, he DID come home. He came home in a wooden box, cradled in my arms, on October 15th. And now he sits on my dresser in my bedroom, watching over me as I sleep every night.

I wonder if I had the chance to prepare for this new life, if it would have made things easier? if Barry had cancer or some other terminal disease, would I have been able to contemplate this new life I would have? I don't know what I would prefer: Him being sick for a very long time and knowing the inevitable, or what I was given with him dying unexpectedly. I don't know, I just don't know. It's almost like the analogy about love. Is it better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all?

There will never be the travelling that we dreamed of together. We'll never get to enjoy our grandchildren together. He will miss the major milestones like A starting kindergarten, learning how to ride a bike, read, tie her shoes. He'll miss the 13th birthdays. The 18th Birthdays. He'll miss the kids going off to college, graduating, getting married, them having babies, and us becoming grandparents. He'll miss it all. This life, it is LOST.

I don't know how to pick up the pieces. I don't know how to move forward with this new life when all I have known is OUR life. Now I have MY life.

I am grieving a life, lost.