Typically, when I write, it is the title that pops into my head, and the words flow from that. Tonight, there was no title to start me off, just a feeling. It’s familiar to me, but something I have not felt in a long time. So, why is this feeling so strong now? I don’t recall it being like this last year, but deep down, I know the reason. As much as I post about healing, living again, and finding my happiness, just below the surface, there is still pain, sadness, and grief.
July is not a great month for me. It used to be a month that brought so much excitement. Typically, at the beginning of July, Tom and I would start thinking about how we would celebrate our anniversary at the end of the month. But that changed when Tom died.
Tom’s death and the days leading up to it are marked by such sadness. I know some will read this and will completely understand. They are the loved ones who knew death was coming. For our family, we knew that Tom was locking in. It was confirmed at the beginning of July. That was the line Tom had drawn when he was first diagnosed. He made his wishes known not only by telling me but also by ensuring that those wishes were specifically stated in his medical directives. On July 4, 2022, with me calling out dates and watching his response (one blink for yes, two for no), Tom picked the day he wanted to be removed from life support.
From July 4, 2022, until his death on July 15, 2022, we knew the end was near. Can I tell you how tough it was to wake up every morning for those 11 days and act as if it was just a typical day? Harder than you can imagine. How did Trey and I do it? I can only say it was divine intervention that got us through. We did it for Tom. We did it out of love. We knew we had two choices. Live each day already grieving him, or live each day loving him and enjoying him. Did it stop the thoughts? No. Every morning, I would think, ‘This is the last Monday I will have with my husband, or I only have seven more days to tell him how much I love him.’
This feeling, I can name it now, is grief, and the anxiety that comes with it is the physical manifestation of loss. It is afraid to go to sleep for fear of remembering the hardest parts of the ALS journey. This feeling was my bed fellow. It was with me every night in that first year. Why now? Is it the approaching anniversary of his death? Most likely. What I think might also be going on is that this feeling is here because, as I am approaching the 3rd anniversary of his passing, I am also working to let go of some of the negative feelings surrounding the ALS journey, which are things like guilt and anger. Grief is such a funny thing. We hate it, but at the same time, it becomes a safe space. I no longer want grief to be my safe space. I want to let go of some of this further.
How do I let go of the guilt and anger? I’m not sure; it’s just a feeling that the next part of the journey will require a bit more effort to process
Lara, you have the most amazing gift of communicating the deepest, most impactful feelings & emotions. You remind me how important it is to process the emotions we experience and convey your heart in the most amazing ways.
Riding along with you on this journey is not for the faint of hearr, you express the deepest emotions in all that you share. Your ability to bring your reader along beside you, to feel your pain and deeply experience the emotion is clearly born of your own inner work and of the love you shared with Tom. But you challenge your reader in unexpected ways.and remind me how important this seasons of life really are.
I am grateful our paths crossed and to have met Tom. I am blessed to have a seat in your wagon and by all that you share. You inspire me in so many ways and challenge me to dig deeper, love harder and still be real in the pain.
Without a doubt, Tom is so proud of how far you have come and of who you are. I’m blessed to be one of the Troops…