a wish on a star

Everyone/everypost says that the Holidays are the toughest after a loss. I recognize that. I believe it. I have experienced it. and yet... my mind still isnt quite THERE about that fact.

I lose count every time I go to think about it.  H passed on a Friday night. The 2nd Friday of the First Month of this year. And every time I consider making a FB post referencing the time passed, I have to count the number of weeks since... then.

Many were surprised at my decision to get away alone (-ish, I took His favorite dog with me) for our anniversary weekend. The quaint cottage was a short walk to the shoreline and 2 hours from anyone we knew. I watched our wedding videos. I made a traditional dinner we used to have. and I sat in our favorite restaurant for anniversary dinner. H was there with me at the beach. He was there when I stopped at the park where we got married. and He was there in every corner of every place I looked.

it occurred to me today that I havent gotten angry yet. How critical to the healing/surviving process is reaching all 5 stages, really?

Since high school, my friend & I have gone on walks around wherever we happened to be, and we would solve our worldly problems together. Boys, friendship issues, school decisions, family dynamics... and as the years passed: moving away, career options, getting married and having kids were added into the mix. We could (and still do) walk for miles together. The conversations can trade off between our respective subjects on an even level and sometimes an issue requires more concern and That's where we concentrate our energies for the other person.

I believe in God. I am a born-again believer, life-long member of the church I grew up in & truly believe that H held the same, if slightly gray-ish area convictions (two different religious practices, same God & teachings).

A few months ago, I was walking along our riverfront, as H & I had done way back before we were Us. Thinking about how much I missed him, and how Life has changed so much, but not really. And a thought hit me. We (those left behind) tell ourselves and each other that our loved one is in a better place, they are looking down on us, they want us to move on/be happy/not cry for them. What if none of it is true? Why would anyone leave this space for heaven (sake of argument) and waste one second concerning themselves with what they left behind?

My co-worker asked me the other day if I had seen a counselor/therapist. This was solely out of kindness, not serious concern or unsolicited suggestion. I have not sought any professional help to this point. I have received a few books from friends and family about how to deal with grief, some journals geared toward provoking thoughts down a specific path to work through things not-so-all at once. I mentioned before, how there are numerous notebooks and papers surrounding me, waiting for the moment (s) when I'm ready to get out of my own head.