On this second New Year’s Eve since my world was utterly turned upside down, 2 days from the 14 month anniversary of Sara’s death, I sit down to think and make some reflections. I haven’t been writing as much in this second half of the year. It’s not because writing isn’t still helpful, but because I so often feel like the words that want to spill out are simply the same messages over and over again: I love Sara. I miss Sara. My world is dimmer now than it was before she died. I am still grieving for George, who never got the chance to participate in this world outside of my body. I’m sad that I’m alone and that the beautiful life Sara and I were building together just disappeared with her. I fear people must be growing tired of my grief.
I’ve made quite a few changes in the house this year – I figured I’m spending so much time at home due to the pandemic, that I might as well put some energy (and money) into its continued evolution into a space that really feels supportive and where I truly want to be. I replaced the upstairs carpet with vinyl plank flooring and got a few area rugs. I got some new furniture for the TV room and a nicer pantry cabinet for the kitchen. I swapped the office and the bedroom – I needed a more neutral territory for my bedroom that wasn’t so heavy with memories of Sara and I. The memories were overwhelmingly good, but it still made bedtime difficult. I painted my relocated bedroom, put up new curtains, and got a new bedframe. I got rid of Sara’s old desk, and her old desktop. I took some of her dresser clothes to goodwill – I haven’t been able to touch her closet clothes yet, though, or her glamour cave (makeup room). I swapped the guest room and the meditation room – the meditation room is really no more, now currently a staging room with a bunch of stuff with which I just don’t know what I want to do. I hung a rainbow flag that belonged to Sara in the front window. I was forced to replace/relocate our electric meter and panel (the main fusebox to the house) due to the old one becoming unsafe.
I love the changes I’ve made to the house, but it also makes me a little sad because I know Sara would love them. Our tastes were so compatible!
I lost (let go of?) my faith this year. My relationship to the concept of deity has always been complicated, as I transitioned over 10 years ago from the Catholic faith I was raised in to a Wiccan faith that felt like a much better fit… but today I find I just can’t believe in divine beings who can interact with and influence the world after everything that I have been through. I find more comfort in acknowledging the randomness of the universe, the fact that very often really awful things happen to really good people for absolutely no reason. I believe in nature, in cycles, in life and death and energy and the sacredness of sunlight and moonlight and the earth beneath our feet, in the fact that the inner workings of our bodies and the natural world so often mirror patterns that can be found throughout the universe. But deity? I just can’t.
I spent a lot of energy this year trying to conceive, and dealing with the disappointment that failure in that arena brought. For seven cycles between February and November I went through the highs and lows of hope and excitement and disappointment and more grief. I’m frustrated that my efforts this year weren’t successful and hopeful that 2021 will result in a better outcome. I’m also sad that if/when I do eventually have another child, Sara won’t be that child’s mother. I’d found my person, my partner, the individual I was excited to parent with – although I’m still absolute in my desire to have another child, I’m grieving that the reality of that will not match what it would have, had Sara survived her cancer.
2020 has been about figuring out how to be in this world without my person and who I am without her. I suspect the year would’ve looked a lot different had Covid-19 not hit, but it did, and so most of the year was spent alone at home with the animals surrounded by reminders of how different life was before Sara died. I’m grateful to have friends who have regularly reached out and connected. I know that I am loved and valued by people other than Sara. For me, for now, the answer to how to be in this world without Sara is – one day at a time. Some days I feel almost “normal” (whatever that means) and other days are harder. I’ve heard from other grievers that sometimes year 2 can be even harder than year 1 – I guess we will have to wait and see how it unfolds, but no matter what I know that my grief will always still be there in one form or another – some days a whisper, and others a strong force.