It’s very windy today, with gusts up to 40mph, but the sun is shining through the clouds.
And so begins my fifth year of grief.
Four years ago today, my life mate/soul mate died without a sound, not even so much as a whimper. His Adam’s apple bobbed once, twice, and then he was gone.
The world is poorer because of his absence. I am poorer. He was the best person I ever knew, kind and helpful to all, not just those who were close to him. (In fact, it was his unfailing kindness to others that cemented my love for him.) He was smart and wise and witty. He was exceedingly knowledgeable about many things — movies, music, mobsters, history, humans, health. It always seemed odd to people that someone so interested in health had physical problems, but his lack of good health is what made him interested in how the body worked and what could be done to make it work even better. He believed in self-discipline and, even at the end, despite pain and debility, he strived to learn, to be better, stronger, wiser.
I’ve gone through a couple of days of sorrow and tears as I neared this anniversary, and I’m glad I did. I seldom cry any more — in fact, I didn’t even know there were tears left in me — and oddly, I miss the tears. Tears kept me connected to him in a way nothing else has since he departed this earth. Besides, he deserves my sorrow now and again. I don’t want to live blithely without a thought for him and what he meant to me.
As always, once the time of his death passed (12:50a.m. MDT), I started to regain my equilibrium. I miss him, but the reality is that as much as I hate it, he isn’t here.
And I am.
Many of my grief mates (those who lost their mates within a few months of when I did) still have relationships with their deceased spouses. Their belief in the continued survival of their soul mates is so strong, they know without a doubt they are still connected; some people can even feel the connection. Others have moved into new relationships. While I . . . I do the best I can on my own, taking each step as it comes, trying not to cling to the past, trying not to fear the future.
And I strive to learn, to be better, stronger, wiser.
It’s what he always did, and I can do no less.
Pat Bertram is the author of the suspense novels Light Bringer, More Deaths Than One, A Spark of Heavenly Fire, and Daughter Am I. Bertram is also the author of Grief: The Great Yearning, “an exquisite book, wrenching to read, and at the same time full of profound truths.” Follow Pat on Google+. Like Pat on Facebook.
March 27, 2014 at 6:55 pm
Hang in there, Pat. We’re all there for you.
March 28, 2014 at 4:27 pm
March 28, 2014 at 5:25 pm
You’re most welcome.
March 27, 2014 at 7:58 pm
Four years seems like an eternity. But yet such a little time out of a whole life time.
March 28, 2014 at 4:22 pm
All of a sudden yesterday, it struck me how little time four years is. I kept thinking to myself. “Four years? Really? Is that all it’s been?”
March 27, 2014 at 8:23 pm
What a good looking man he was! I hope you’ve felt the support of your friends today, Pat. I know it’s a time of visiting tender places.
While you may not feel anyone is left to remember him, still his life impacted others including you, and that influence will forever be a part of who you are. Your life in turn will impact others. While he may no longer be with you, there is a part of him that will be forever perpetuated. At least that’s something that I like to believe when I’m missing someone special. 🙂
Cyber hugs coming your way today.
March 28, 2014 at 4:24 pm
Carol, yes, he was very good looking, but never knew it. Never knew how smart he was, either.
I like what you said, that even if no one remembers him, his life impacted others. And his impact on my life will be forever perpetuated by the people I have an impact on. It’s a wonderful thought. Thank you.
March 27, 2014 at 8:24 pm
I am so sorry this has happened, Pat. You have carried on with dignity and a determination that I admire. Great love also means profound grief. But I would not give up one in order to be spared the other. I suspect you feel the same way. Peace to us all.
March 28, 2014 at 4:26 pm
Same here, Joy. I admire the way you have continued on. And yes, great love does mean great grief. I guess in many ways, we are the lucky ones. Not everyone gets to experience such a connection.
Peace to us all.
March 28, 2014 at 3:40 am
You may be on your own, but you are not alone. 🙂 I’m right there with you.
March 28, 2014 at 4:26 pm
So true. We will always be connected by these terrible anniversaries.
March 29, 2014 at 6:44 am
I love the way you write of him and the palpable way you loved him. We can feel it. And even though he resides in another realm, he is still here – through you. Thank you for letting us get to know him.
Now, take care of you…because, after all, you are a light bringer ya know.
March 31, 2014 at 1:44 pm
What a lovely thing to say. Thank you.
March 30, 2014 at 4:14 am
Pat,you continue to be an inspiration to me.I am two years out from the loss of my soul mate.
March 31, 2014 at 1:44 pm
Thank you. I have a hunch it will always be hard, but never as hard as those first two years. Wishing you peace.
February 11, 2022 at 9:59 am
Today is my fourth anniversary of brutal departure of my soulmate. It might be a deliverance for her of her suffering of cancer. For me I remember everything in details and I feel she left me something like one week ego or one month ego. I don’t have any bad souvenirs but all good souvenirs stays with me intact. With time the pain is different but I feel the same intensity. I think about her nearly every day. Her love gave me something interesting. What ever happen I am always very calm at home. Even we were different personalities but your writing make me feel with grief I feel often like you. It is always beautiful the way you express your feeling. Even you were some level out of the situation after 12 years your writing continue to help me and your understanding and compassion.
February 11, 2022 at 12:18 pm
The anniversaries are always hard, but chances are you will start feeling more alive and maybe even more hopeful sometime this year, and if not, then next year.
Wishing you peace today and always.