Yesterday I went shopping with the woman who is making the memory quilt for me. We went to buy fabric for another border, for the back, and for the binding of the quilt. She has done such a fantastic job. I can't wait until it's completed. It's going to be beautiful. She is making such wonderful little touches to it. It is truly going to be a quilt that speaks of John.
Not only was it special to be shopping for the material but it was good to talk with this woman too. She too is widow. Her husband died several years ago and she truly gets it. I don't mean to sound snobbish but only another woman who has lost her husband knows what it really feels like. Maybe because it's the kind of pain that there just are no words for.
Yes, I can try to convey here what I am going through, what other women in my position are going through. But I think it might even sound melodramatic to read these words unless you have been there. And then sadly, it all makes sense.
Nothing prepares you for the enormity of this loss. Even now, two years later, I still can't believe that this has happened to us. We had such plans, we were looking forward to growing old together and now it is all gone. All gone. With no hope for going back. Nothing I do, nothing I say can change what is. That is the heartbreak. In other situations you can work to try to change or fix a situation. But the lack of hope is what is so overwhelming. The fact is that no matter how well I do this grief thing John is never going to walk through our door again. As I go through my day I think I try to not let that really permeate my consciousness. Yet, every so often, especially at night, I allow myself to really understand what that means and then I am shaken to my core and I sob as if it happened just a few minutes ago.
When I was a young child, I couldn't wait to grow up. Now I am grown up and I can't wait to die.