Acknowledging Sorrow & Loss

Looking at the Mountains........

It is just six weeks since my beloved husband Peter died and the rawness is subsiding but the sorrow is very intense.  Everyone has been very kind and solicitous, and the messages and cards quite overwhelming.  Where does this journey go without indulging gross self-pity or 'carry on regardless'.

I find that life with loss is a paradox - everyone's support is wonderful but I also want to manage it in my way, grieve how I wish to grieve and not to have to talk if I don't feel like it.  Someone saying 'its good to talk' imposes their criteria on my grieving.  There are factors that are extremely personal to each individual.  For example I find that the sensory things that were shared are both poignant and essential: the smell of curry that Peter would cook, the hair-combings of his beard that birds would take for nest building, his eyes bright with a sense of adventure as we planned the next trip.

Now I am at the foot of the Carpathian Mountains in Romania where we lived for long stretches of time - we used to say that we spent most of our time mountain gazing as the mists and snows kept changing the vista - sometimes they would disappear completely and within minutes emerge from the wafting clouds.  Today, minus 15 degrees, the snow very crisp and pure, the dawn has bathed the mountain peaks in a wondrous red glow.  I can feel at one with him but also know that I must walk alone.