6 months' grief

6 months.  

I can't believe it's been 6 months.

In some ways it seems it was just yesterday and in others it was a lifetime ago.  But all day today I've played a morose game of "at this time 6 months ago":

• John's eyes followed me around the room and he became restless if I had to step out for a minute
• I had to call the Hospice nurse and ask for help because he was turning belligerent 
• his dad and sister had to help me pull him up in the bed because he couldn't move himself anymore
• he squeezed my hand and said, "babe, let me go... let me go..."  I answered, "I am."
• he abruptly sat up in bed and cried out, "oh God, help me!"
• John stopped making sense when he talked
• and then that last hour...  his dad and I sitting on either side holding each hand...  John got so restless and then I finally remembered how much he loved music...  so for that last hour I played some of his favorite songs - OUR songs - on my phone...  and he settled down...  and I started counting seconds between his breaths...  the period between growing longer and longer...
• praying for God to let him go... let it be over...
• and then at 11:52pm John took his last breath

It has haunted me all day, this crazy ticking away of events.  My 8th period kiddos looking so confused as I silently cried.  R asking, "What's wrong, Mrs. Frasier?" and my answer to him, "It's just a sad day for me.  I feel sad."  

Sad doesn't seem to be a strong enough word.  In Conscious Discipline® we often talk about rage being very different from anger, but lately I've also come to think that grief is very different from sadness.  It comes sometimes in sudden, short bursts, sometimes in waves, but it often feels debilitating.  At times I feel like a crazy woman.  And it most often feels invisible to the world around me.  "What's wrong with her?  Oh, right, didn't her husband die?" 

John's tree (the redbud I planted over his ashes) fell over this week and died.  My dear friends did the best they could to try to console me.  "Can you stake the tree?"  "What if you dig a deeper hole and replant the tree?"  "How about cuttings - can you plant a cutting?"  All I could think is, "No, his tree is GONE, just like John is GONE."  

And that's the problem.  John's gone.  I waited 30 years for love, and I was loved more than I ever thought possible for 10 years, and now it's gone.  He's gone. 

6 months ago I was torn and forever changed.