I'm excited about Spring this year. The rain and cold weather are hard, and the warmth on my skin makes me happy. When people tell you that time makes the grief more bearable it sounds unreal. How can time be anything but pain? Every moment is a moment without the person you love.
The concept of "more dead" is something I often fight. He seems to be more dead all the time. The more I become alive, the more dead he feels.
I am older than most of my widow friends. I am 15 months old, and this is my second Spring. My first Spring was agony, and I'm watching my friends go through this now. When my fiance died it was just beginning to get cold. It was the time of year when you carried a light sweater around. Where I live it doesn't rain all summer. Less than a month before he died we ran out onto our balcony to dance in the first rain. Almost immediately the few rain drops stopped falling and we laughed, went inside, and continued on with life.
The winter fit only too well. The day after his death my sister and I flew to his hometown, where his parents wanted him buried. If I had been in the right state of mind of I would have mentioned that he wanted to be buried somewhere else, but I think it's good for them to have him so close. When we arrived, there was snow on the ground. I never once felt cold, or hot, or hungry, thirsty, awake, asleep, alive. By the time I came home the rain was pouring down every day.
I would lay in bed in the morning and listen to the rain. Their is this rumor that most people kill themselves in the winter, but this is actually untrue. When you are sad, the winter is comforting. You can bury yourself beneath blankets and feel justified by the sound of the wind and the rain. It's as if nature is saying, "Yep, this totally sucks." I've read that more people actually complete suicide in the Spring. The world comes alive and you see how far away you are from everyone around you. People are dancing and laughing, and you are still laying on your kitchen floor crying onto soapy hands because you collapsed while doing your dishes for the first time in two weeks. The divide between your inside world and outside world becomes so deep, and it becomes all too apparent just how sad you actually are.
Grief adds another element to the changing of the seasons. I felt like the world was turning too fast. I wanted to dig my heels to the center of the Earth and just tell everyone to hold on, stop for a moment, the world can not go on without the man I love. He was becoming more dead. He died in winter and I would not allow the Earth to keep on spinning. The universe, time itself, was ripping us farther and farther apart.
Now it is my second Spring. Now I am the woman in the chat rooms comforting my sisters and telling them that yes, time does make it better. When an especially warm wind touches my face I am still filled with sadness, but it's not a sadness for him all the time. It's more like a memory of my own pain wafting up from long ago.
I no longer feel a desperate need to halt the passage of time.