It's been over two years and so I have flashes of guilt. I sometimes think that there are those who think I should be showing more signs of progress and I should "move on with my life." The guilt comes from my inability to do that in the way I imagine most people think I should.
But in my very small circle of truly dear and loving friends, they completely understand my continuing sadness because they share it with me. Warren and I were blessed with these longstanding friends whose friendship goes back for decades. These friends really get it. It's not just me who feels the choking despair, the emptiness and the pain. I am encircled with the love and support of the people who clearly understand the loss, not only for me but for them as well.
When we talk on the phone (because all, with one exception, don't live near me) we commiserate, we reminisce, we console, we cry and rage at the circumstances, we soothe each other, we laugh at the stories and the jokes and the puns. These are long phone calls and each one elicits a new memory or story. When we talk, we don't hold back. The emotions flow and I feel safe and comforted that we can be so open with each other. These are the people who really get me and don't expect my "progress" to be any different than what it is.
During this time, though, I've felt a little bit of change but it's coming at the pace of a drunken snail. But however long it takes for the choking despair to subside, if it takes at all, my dearest friends understand. And it's their understanding that gets me through each day.
Copyright © 2019 Reisa Sterling Miller. All Rights Reserved.
Thursday, August 29, 2019
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