20241105 - 18:05
I thought that I had come far in letting her go. The grief has surely been present - constantly. Yet I am not the one who chooses when it goes. And my attachments to her are as strong as ever. I am still living in the world of our creation. In our house, with our family and kids. Working in the garden, partaking in our community. Only - the house is burnt. I am alone, and the only work left to do is to bury our dead kids. It is a fact - yet I am too paralyzed by grief to do it. She’s already moved out, moved on. It’s over. But how can I ever accept this? It is me, too, that I am burying. This will be the final act. No bargaining, no wishing, hoping, praying, or acting, will undo it. Nothing will get her back. And so, to be here with the grief. Paralyzing, unbearable grief. To be with it, not because it helps, or makes it better, or more bearable. Because it doesn’t. To be with it because it’s the only thing to do. Because there’s no alternative. To be with it - forever if needed, because I didn’t choose this. It just is. Because life chooses for us, and no matter how much I wish it weren’t so, IT IS.