Four years

Like most people in my timeframe, I don't post much anymore but do still come on from time to time to read the posts.

First of all, I'd like to extend my condolences to all the new members who find themselves on this journey. How I wish you could have been spared all the pain and suffering you are going through.

Tomorrow will be four years for me. Four years. A long time for others but just yesterday for me. We can't help but reflect on these anniversaries and, so, I felt the need to write a few thoughts. Nothing original, nothing out of the ordinary. I still miss my husband, Gilles, terribly; still think about him everyday; still feel some anger, guilt and disbelief at times, and, of course, deep sorrow. As I was walking along the beach today, I also felt a lot of gratitude (I probably say the say the same thing every year). For those of you who don't know my story, Gilles was French and I lived in France for over 20 years. One of his greatest fears was to die and leave me bereft in a country that was not mine. I can honestly say that Gilles gave me the tools to live; he encouraged me to seize opportunities that would set me up for life.

I became a teacher in France and it was our dream to live in the French overseas territories and departments. As sooon as he retired, I got a job in Tahiti but it was there, after our first year, that he was diagnosed with cancer. The rest is history. We had hoped to move to Martinique or Guadeloupe after my four-year contract in Tahiti. I was not selected for a job there when it was time to leave but on what would have been his birthday, I got an email from the University of French Guiana saying they wished to interview me for a job. I don't mean to sound corny but I knew Gilles was guiding me as he had often done in the past, pointing me in the right direction. French Guiana was to be a stepping-stone to get to what we had always wanted. I am currently in Guadeloupe. He would be happy for me; he would have been elated to come and live here. I have fulfilled our dream but one of us is missing. The dream is not complete.

On the outside, it would seem that I have moved forward, that I have been doing things with my life. However, the four years have been full of pain with long days and weeks of abject loneliness. In the run-up to the fourth anniversary, I have shed many a tear, believe me, and came to the somewhat shameful realization this weekend that I have not yet come to terms with Gilles' death. I say shameful because I am, of course, putting pressure on myself, thinking that maybe I should be in a different place by now. My one consolation is that I remember one and only one person saying that it takes about 5 years (and not the ridiculous 6 months or one year that ignorant people have proclaimed)  to feel better. I admit that I am not ready to let go and I recognize that this may be unhealthy but I'm taking my time and keeping Gilles close. It's funny but sometimes I feel as though I'm carrying him in me and it's almost physical, a feeling in my chest.

I will end here by telling the newly bereaved that it's a long, hard journey but there will be people who will fill the gap, helping out in ways that you need them to. You will lose friends but yoiu will  form new friendships. You will make friends with people who are more in tune with the changes taking place within you. Perhaps, like me, some of your most fundamental beliefs will change, adding to the inner turmoil, but it's all part of becoming the changed individuals that death inevitably shapes. 

Tomorrow I will perform my own little rituals that I hope will bring some comfort. I hope that you, too, will find ways to soften this experience and I wish you all just a little, teeny-weeny bit of peace in the midst of your heartbreak.