I can still be blindsided by the grief I thought I had moved beyond. Often, while driving, I will be listening to the radio and a particular song will remind me that my emotions are much closer to the surface than I had thought.
I am discovering I am not always as far along the journey of healing as I had given myself credit for. While I feel a sense of freedom and possibility that I have not felt for years, sometimes that unexpected knock at the front door of my emotions will still surprise me when I open the door and see grief and sadness standing there, demanding entrance. Despite my protestations, they usually seem to find a toehold inside.
But of course, this is to be expected, and truth be told, I don’t mind all that much. I don’t want to feel an absence of emotion when it comes to Linda, and so soon after her death, it is my sadness at her loss that keeps me in silent conversation with her. It feels good actually, to keep her present in my heart with such a deep swell of emotion.
It occurs to me that there will always be a seed of sadness in my heart, as well there should be. But it has also become clearer that this seed will shrink from the size of a watermelon to a tiny sesame seed, where it will assume its rightful place in my heart forever. Why would I ever want to erase something so profoundly real and important to me? The key is to find a place for it, secreted away in a beautifully preserved corner of my soul, whispering to me of love and life and laughter, while I look out over the new world that awaits my embrace.
I have been a chiropractor since 1981 in Ridgefield, Connecticut. My passion is caring for my patients, educating people on the principles of health, reading, writing, going to the movies, and traveling, on my Harley whenever possible.