I had our new floor put in today upstairs, in preparation for moving our bedroom upstairs. I spent a little time putting things back on the walls, and putting a few things back in place (though I still have so much to go). I put the important things back up first – our framed wedding vows, pictures from our wedding, George’s shadowbox, pictures of the dogs, and my table with George and Sara’s urns.
Putting everything back, it occurred to me that for someone to really know who I am, they have to know about George and Sara. Typical advice suggests we not let our losses define us, but I am who I am because of them. I know that I am more than a bereaved parent, and I am more than a widowed person, but I cannot just turn off those parts of myself to make things easier or to “move on”. Looking at this table after I so carefully put it back together, I still don’t understand how this is my reality. I still feel like I should be able to wake up and go find Sara in bed or watching tv, so that I can give her a big squish. I loved our squishes.
In my vows, I told Sara “Most of all, I vow to live in truth with you – beautiful truth, messy truth, painful truth, loving truth, and the rest of the rainbow of truth that will surround us as we go through life together.” I never ever imagined that our truth would be as messy and as painful as it turned out to be, as it still continues to be… but I meant every word of every vow and those vows are still imprinted on my soul.
I have trouble imagining a future where my heart hurts less or where Sara and George feel like a less significant part of my identity or my story, so for now I just sit with my truth and I try not to worry about the future.
