The Night


 As I sit here this evening, in my husbands fleece shirt, my mind circles around and around. My life is 180 degrees different than it was a mere 3 months ago. I am not the same person that I was three months ago. 

For the first month after Mark died I would walk through the house in the middle of the night. In the dark. It was if my soul was searching for Mark in the darkness. After a month or so of doing that it ended.  Then came last Tuesday. My first grief group session. Now, I’m walking the house again in the middle of the night. Obviously the grief group triggered something and once again my soul is searching. For what I’m not sure. Perhaps pieces of my heart. 

When Mark died my heart didn’t break, it shattered. Something deep within me was torn in two. I’m now broken. I told my friend today this as I told her the old me is gone. She will never return. The old me didn’t survive the waves of grief and pain. 

The new me is very different. I used to be quick to smile and laugh. It was easy to be happy and find the joy in life. How could it not be with Mark here? My rock, partner, companion, anchor, confidant and protector. Life wasn’t perfect, he wasn’t perfect. Just perfect for me. 

Now, I don’t smile often and I don’t remember what it feels like to laugh. What’s left of my heart is heavy and even breathing is difficult. There is a darkness inside now that has pushed away joy and happiness. As I sit here wrapped in my husbands fleece shirt so I can feel close to him, my thoughts race and I dread the night. Daylight seems to keep the worst of the grief away. It’s a different story at night. 

During the night the waves of grief are powerful. Not only do they bring tears, they also bring loneliness and pain. I’ve come to dread the night. 

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