As I am preparing for my journey to Florida, I continue to do my "grief work" as books call it.
I came across this passage:
"If I can't bring my loved one back, maybe I should
join my love.
It's crazy even to say
such a thing.
Am I losing my mind?"
On the ride home from LA with Ken he brought up my former post where I share my guilt of having not done enough for Anne and asked if I thought that was something I really needed to carry.
It isn't, but it is difficult to explain why I can still feel this way and yet rationally know that I went above and beyond the call of duty.
The feelings associated with my grief are guilt and a sense that there is no future anymore. Then the inevitable question of going to join Anne comes up and I do wonder if I am losing it.
I am at a place where I can't really imagine going on and yet I can't imagine ending it either.
Sometimes, in the morning when I am in that comfortable place between sleep and consciousness, and then the depression settles on me like an elephant on my chest, it is all I can do to get up and face another day.
And other times, feeling like a huge part of me has died is strangely liberating. I feel liberated from worrying about Anne, liberated from feeling tied to Bellingham Washington because that's where Anne lived, liberated from having to accomplish the dreams and goals we had together, liberated from having to give a damn about so much that I have no control over anyway.
So, who knows what I will do? Where I will live? What job I will get next? Whether I will get married again?
I do know, rationally I know even if I don't feel it, I will go on.
As Edna St. Vincent Millay said, "Life goes on...I forget just why."