Flashbacks. Dreams. Memories.
Flashbacks
They come in spurts. Flashbacks are just that. Flashes. A sudden quick memory of a moment in time, usually triggered by something. Something that can be as innocent as a sound. The way a breeze feels on your skin. Or the sun shines in your eyes. The smell of a fragrance or a scent. When they hit, they can send your mind down the rabbit hole of despair. Drudging up memories of nightmarish times fighting an illness that took the love of your life. Reminding you of the pain, the bruises, IV’s, monitors, blood pressure checks, fevers, knowing the darkest secret you have ever known about a poor prognosis that sealed her fate.
Those are the flashbacks. And that is where they can take you (me).
Dreams
The dreams! Oh, the dreams. They can be as vivid or as hazy as they want to be. In some, I can see her just as clear as day. In others she is shrouded by a haze, but I know its her. It’s just her presence in the dream. I don’t see her or interact with her, but she is there. Much like in real life at times. We were together, doing something, talking to someone or in a group, in a discussion. I may not be directly interacting with her, but she is there. She is there and her presence is influencing that space. The energy of her being could change the tenor of the room.
When I wake from the dream, that feeling is there. Her presence was felt. As if she was really there (she was). Sometimes she tells me “I’m only here for a little while and then I have to go.” Other times, the dream is over or I wake up before she leaves. But I feel her. I sense her being. I miss her.
And Memories . . .
The memories . . . Oh the memories! Memories have been good and bad. They can be about the good times. The healthy times. They bring a smile to my face. I can even laugh at some. Some cute, really good times together. The dating days. The first kiss. The first date. The pre-dating days. The marriage years. Building a life. Raising kids. Caring for parents. Empty nest. The memories of a life together. What memories! What a time!
Year One – The Aftermath
Year one was hell! The fear. The unknowing. The fear of the unknowing. Everything was so fast. And this time has just flown by. Notwithstanding the fact that there was so much packed into each day during her illness.
My brain, I know for sure is in the throes of PTSD. Trying to heal itself. Trying to build new pathways to deliver signals and messages. Trying to replace what has been taken away in the person of Kandi. Its a big space to fill. A lot to replace. She was a big part of me. Of this world. Of this life.
As the fog of this first year clears, the memories become more visible. Some are precious. Others, not so precious. I remember the love from our church family. My fellow shepherds who showed up on the first night in the hospital to pray over us. The steady barrage of calls, texts, visits.
There were so many.
And the food. So. Much. Food! Once the meal train started, and got going – just like a real train – it was hard to stop!
To my “Common Bond Brothers”, you know who you all are. The breakfasts, the Cigar and Bourbon nights were a great distraction.
But everyday reality was there to bring me back to – well – reality.
Denial is the first part. You can’t believe it. It can’t be real. Even after the flowers, the hugs, the service, the calls, the texts, the visits. Even the ultra deafening silence in the house, you still can’t wrap your full brain around the fact that this is permanent. She is not on this earth anymore.
My denial comes in layers. At first was the bargaining of the fact that I could almost accept her passing, but was it really final? Maybe she is just in another room. Or maybe another city and she’ll be back on Thursday. And then reality hits. Its not another room or another city. Thursday will never come. Once that realization sets in, another level of denial is peeled away. I’m sad again. I feel the lonliness in my heart. The hole that’s been left. The tears come like a spring shower, cleansing my soul.
The cycle starts again, I hear something funny, or some really juicy gossip or see an old acquaintance of ours and I reach for my phone to text her only to realize she’s not on the other end. Reality strikes again, peeling back a new layer. I really have to travel the rest of my life without her physical presence? And on and on it goes the layers of my denial get removed. Maybe one day they will all be gone and I can come to the final acceptance of the finality of death. She. Is. Gone.
Healing
The first year is packed with the hurt and also the beginning of the healing. The heart aches from this loss. Like a traumatic amputation of one of my limbs, my body and brain try to accommodate that missing part. The pain is awful, but can slowly ease some, but it never goes completely away. The heart aches for what it once had. The brain, just like in an amputation, sends out signals that go unanswered. So it tries to rewire and reroute. Trying to find a place to deposit all of the love that is quickly overflowing and overwhelming its capacity. Until it learns to stop producing this much love for someone who is no longer there. This process takes time. Longer for some. Shorter for others. But it takes time.
Its part of that healing process. In the past, with other losses I’ve suffered, it didn’t take as long. A few days for some. A few months maybe, for others. But this, this is different. She was “bone of my bones, flesh of my flesh”. She was part of me. We were one. So it hurts more. Therefore, it’s going to take more time. The healing will be slow, and personal, and very close.
It’s Just The Beginning
What more can I say right now? Its just the first year. It hasn’t been enough time for many major changes. Other than a few shifts in routine. Making financial adjustments. Trying to grow used to a big empty bed, and finally not going stir crazy in the ultra quiet of the house. Not much has changed. The closet is still full. Jewelry is still stored right where she left it. Its too much to fathom right now. In ways, I want to move forward, but in other ways I can’t right now.
Because . . . it’s just Year One.