I’ve been making a point to restore my mornings to “sacred” time, a time of reflection, meditation and healing. No more email, Facebook, Instagram or Pinterest, no more chats with Roger about business or the state of affairs in the world until later in the day.
This morning, I read an inspirational bit about acceptance. I talk a a lot about being present, and paying attention to what is going on in the moment, but I don’t think I’ve given much writing time to acceptance. Acceptance is said to help release sorrow and opens us to the multitude of possibilities and options available to us if we can just drop our shields of resistance.
Acceptance stood out in my mind this morning, causing me to think of the recent passing of my former husband. I’ve gone through shock, and anger, and shock again. Lot’s of the time I find I can’t believe he has passed. We were together for almost 30 years before our divorce around three years ago.
He was the guy who worked out every day. He was the guy who said that he was going to be the 80 year old surfer, and who was in the process of buying a condo for himself on the beach. He was the fighter who donned Brooke’s Wolverine claws as a talisman to fight the cancer he’d been diagnosed with and the chemotherapy which caused him such great suffering.
While I didn’t want to be married to him any more, I certainly didn’t want him to suffer as he was with his illness and I never believed he’d be gone this soon.
Before acceptance, in the grieving process, comes denial, shock, anger, bargaining, and depression. These states come and go within us in no particular order. I have been shocked, angry, and mildly depressed, off and on since he passed. This is awkward for Roger. I feel uncomfortable talking about it and doing the exploring I feel I need to do.
A whole chapter of my life is completely closed now, with a resounding thud. There is no further discussion.
I think I’m at bargaining. We received a bill from the ambulance company which caused me to think about his last week of life. I had tried to get him some help navigating, and getting second opinions, but ultimately he made his own decisions, and rightly so. It was, after all, his life and we weren’t married any more.
I keep thinking, “If only he’d ……” I know such thoughts don’t change anything, he’s gone. I think over the week of and the two months after his passing, which rekindles anger. Again, I remind myself that there is nothing that can be done to change the past. The gift I can give myself, the thing that will surely end these thoughts is simply acceptance.
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