Day 82 - Failure? Success? I really don't know.
When I originally started this blog, it was on the urging of others to get my posts about losing Phil out there to a wider audience than just Facebook. I don't know what I was expecting, but in my mind, I thought that maybe, just maybe, I can inspire someone who reads this. Maybe I can be an example of rising above my unexpected circumstances and surviving and thriving. Maybe there is a widow or widower out there who needs to see there is hope. Or anyone grieving for that matter.
I think I had my own expectations of myself set entirely too high. I remembered back to earlier in my life when I overcame some incredible circumstances and figured, yeah, I can do this. I should be up and going by...three, maybe four months? Piece of cake!
I don't know what in the hell I thought I was capable of, but I was wrong. Way wrong. The person I was on December 6, 2019 at 11:55 p.m. is a totally different person than the one that I became on December 7, 2019 at 12:15 a.m. The time in between was when I was waiting for them to get to my house to tell me they found Phil, but my gut told me something was very wrong. I knew I was going to get bad news, but when it heard it, my entire life shattered into a million pieces, and my sobs are the only thing that could be heard outside in the silence.
What I didn't know then was that I had to find every little piece that shattered from my life and figure out how to put it back together. What I didn't know was that some of the pieces will never be found again. That some of the pieces don't fit together anymore because the edges were damaged in the fall. Some are cracked beyond repair, and the rest are still waiting to be fit into place.
How I thought three or four months is all I will need for that is an expectation that needs to go away.
I had an epiphany (or, as Phil would always quote Smee from Hook, an "apostrophe") about the function of the blog a bit ago, from my own perspective. I can't expect to be an inspiration because I have no idea what to expect from one day to the next with regards to my grief. I don't know if I am going to be sitting in Applebee's with friends and start crying as soon as Phil's name is mentioned, or if I'm going to be painting with my grandbabies, or learning to change the bulb in my television so it works again. I have no idea if I am going to be writing about being happy or miserable at any given moment because the truth is, I have absolutely no idea what to expect out of myself anymore.
The function of this blog is to write exactly what the title insinuates: Real Time Widow. This is me. Right now. Tomorrow may be an entirely different mood and I may again be talking about how one day it might be awesome to find love again. Or, like today, it might be that I will never be able to even think of loving anyone else.
I've got a lot of pieces to put back together. I often wonder what the final outcome of it will look like. But I am certain of one thing: loving and being loved by Phil was such a wonderful part of my life that no matter what my future holds, it will never go away. He will never go away. I'd do it all again just to have that love in my life.