The Climb

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There's always gonna be another mountain
I'm always gonna wanna make it move
Always gonna be an uphill battle
Sometimes I'm gonna have to lose
Ain't about how fast I get there
Ain't about what's waitin' on the other side
It's the climb

I’m falling back into a depression. I can feel it. Its been slowly building for the past couple of weeks. I had hoped it was the fallout from what had been a rough anniversary. But its not going away. Not letting up. And its getting worse quickly.

I know the signs. I’ve been here before. Mornings seem to come even that much sooner. I don’t have the will to get out of bed, even when the second alarms starts squealing. I walk into the office and feel completely overwhelmed, without even opening my email or looking at my to-do list. The weight of the world seems ten times heavier. Life is simply unappealing. I run on autopilot, doing things because they “have” to be done, not because I want to or really care. And, regardless of what I do or say or try, I just can’t get it... him... then... or now out of my mind.

It seems this past three years has been nothing but a climb. I reach a point on my mountain where I can pause, breath, enjoy the view, and with the next step I hit a cliff, or a rough patch, and find myself free falling far below. I never know how far I will fall, how long, how low. But I know that its a painful arrival back on solid ground. And when I get there, I have little choice but to look up, lick my wounds, and start all over again.

I never seem to get anywhere. Always seem to end up where I started. But I have little choice but to keep climbing.

I’m tired of this journey. The nets that used to catch me seem to have grown weaker with each successive fall. The things that helped before seem to do little now. I sincerely believe that one day this fall will kill me. I will hit rock bottom and be unable to get up again. My strength is not infinite, and I live in both fear and anticipation of that day.

From where I am today, it can’t come soon enough....

I can almost see it.
That dream I'm dreaming, but
There's a voice inside my head saying
You'll never reach it
Every step I'm takin'
Every move I make
Feels lost with no direction,
My faith is shakin'
But I, I gotta keep tryin'
Gotta keep my head held high.....

All I can say is that if I do somehow reach the top, it had better be a damn good view.....

Let It Be

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I saw Paul McCartney last night in concert.  It was probably one of the best concerts I have ever seen.  I was glad I was there.  And as I sat there, through the entire three hour performance, I had one thing front and centre on my mind. 

Kurt would have loved this.  I wish he was here.  With me.

Surrounded by 40 000 people, most of whom were having a good time, I was shedding tears – silent and discreet.  That’s not to say I was not enjoying myself.  Its just to say that the Kurt-sized hole that lives within my heart seemed twice as large, twice as obvious.  And I could not get him off my mind. 

And, surrounded by huge masses, I felt completely alone.

I’m getting used to living with that monkey on my back.  With that hole that follows me, sits beside me constantly.  The reminders, even in the good times, that the times would be better with him to share it with me.

I can be happy and sad at the same time.  Enjoying the present while pining for something different, yearning for the past.  Kurt was a big man.  He cast a presence, he could not hide in a crowd.  So I suppose I should not be surprised that I feel his absence as much as I did his presence.  Sometimes still I feel them both at the same time....

I’m getting used to the silent tears as well.  There was a time when I would hold them back, push them in.  Now, in appropriate settings (aka when I feel safe and usually when I think no one is watching) I just let them come.  Sometimes they come when I don’t even really feel sad.  I just don’t feel happy either.  Or, more accurately, I just don’t feel whole.

I’ve learned it takes too much energy to fight the feelings, fight the emotions.  It’s too hard to ignore what is missing in my life.  So day by day, I am learning to accept that this is part of my reality.  I don’t know if it makes it easier, but it makes it bearable.

And it can’t be changed anyway.

Just as Sir Paul said, some things you just have to let be.....

Three Years... The More Things Change, The More They Stay the Same.

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Its still hard to grasp my head around the idea that my husband has been gone three years.  It seems like such a long time, looking at all the calendar pages which have been shed between then and now.  And yet I can see, hear, feel, and even smell that day as though it were just yesterday.  Yes, I know some of the details have faded, hidden by the clouds of grief and the passing of time.  But the big ones still remain.  And as the seconds on the clock turned over past midnight, they came flooding back as though it were only yesterday.  Some things, I suppose, you never really forget, even if you try.

So much has changed in the world in the past three years.  Even more has changed in Gavin's and my world.  We are still the same people - Kurt's wife, and his son.  But we are so different as well.  With Gavin, the changes are obvious.  He's walking.  He's talking.  He's no longer a baby... growing daily into a little man.  But as I watched him this morning navigate the Columbarium with ease, heading directly to the place where his daddy's picture is kept, I realized how much more has changed in his world as well... changes that would never have happened had that fateful day been different.  There is a quote I stumbled upon long ago that states the innocence of childhood disappears the day they are faced with the reality of death.  Meaning my son lost that far beyond his time...

As an adult, I knew that people die.  It was a deep seated fear of mine, but also a reality, that I knew I would outlive my husband.  Somewhere far inside, I knew I would outlive him, bury him, be forced to say goodbye.  But my innocence was robbed that day three years ago as well.  Because while I knew it would happen, I never expected it to happen like that.  I never anticipated becoming the young widow in the room.  The one on the receiving end of the sorrowful glances and pitying eyes.  I have heard "I am sorry" from strangers more times than I care to admit.  And I never once believed they were actually sorry.  They were glad it wasn't them.  And they didn't know what to say...  There is not a day that passes that I don't ask myself "Is this really real?"  "How can this be happening to me?"

I've changed in other ways too - ways that I have mentioned many times over.  I love harder.  Live louder.  I also live in fear - terror really - knowing someone else will be next...

I still often find myself looking at both Gavin and I and wondering what things would have been like if Kurt had survived.  What he would have been like.  What we would have been like.  And while I know there is no way of knowing, and its really rather futile to imagine, I long for that looking glass so I can catch a glimpse of a future that never came to be...

Three years...  I have accepted Kurt's death.  That took a long time, but I no longer wait for him to come home, or think about why he isn't.  But I do still admit to catching myself looking up at the clock come around 7:00, and thinking this was the tim he would have - should have - been walking through the door.

Three years... The scent has long ago vanished from the clothes he wore the final morning.  But I do still admit to pulling them out from time to time and drawing in a deep breath.  Sometimes I even catch wind of that familiar smell... Even though I know it is only a memory.

Three years... I no longer watch the public busses that drive by, expecting to see him in the familiar drivers seat.  I no longer look at the bus numbers, wondering when the last time was he sat in that bus, wondering what bus we should be sitting in now.  But I do admit to looking twice when I follow one home from work, giving a silent sigh to the driver up front, wishing it were someone else.

Three years... I no longer sob uncontrollably at the mention of his name.  But I admit to many a public and private tear when my thoughts turn to him.  When I am faced with the reality that he is gone.

Three years... People have come and gone out of my life.  Driven away because they could not understand, or did not want to understand the depth of my emotions, the reasons behind my actions. Because they did not want a reminder of mortality.    Because it was too much, I was too much.  Because they thought they knew what they can never really know.  But at the same time, people brought in because they were able to look beyond, to accept rather than understand.  I have lost many good friends through this journey.  But I have gained many too.  And I value those who have not just stood beside my, but actually held me up in a way I don't think they even realize.  I take nothing for granted...

And yet the more things change, the more they stay the same....

Three years... I still wear earplugs in the shower every morning, afraid of being brought back to that awful place with the simple sound of water hitting the shower floor.

Three years... I still reach my hand out to the passengers seat while driving, half expecting to find his lap waiting for m to rest my hand.

Three years... I still talk to him daily.  Out loud, in private.  Tell him about my day.  About my fears, my hopes, my desires.  And sometimes, deep within my heart, I swear he answers back.

Three years...  I still love him like I have loved no one else.  I still miss him with a feeling I thought was the stuff made of fiction.

Three years... Such a seemingly long time and yet, in the greater scheme of things, barely a second on the hands of time.

Three years... The more things change, the more they stay the same.

Three years...   How have I survived this long without him?

I love you Kurt.  Always Yours....

Always Will: Happy Anniversary

Five years ago this day I walked down the aisle, wiped the tears from my eyes, and promised him all of our tomorrows. Today I hold our son's hand as I walk towards his urn, wipe the tears from my eyes, and promise him the rest of mine.

It was the best day of my life. When people ask what I am proudest of in my life, it is my relationship with him. The fact that I was able not only to take his name, but also his heart. The fact that our love created something as special as our son. And the fact that we were able to live our vows until the very end - and beyond.

We had talked of renewing our vows today - just he and I. So that's what I will do. In silence, in my heart. And my promise to him remains the same.

Kurtis, whatever happens, whatever the future holds, whatever tomorrow brings, some things will never change. I will love, honour, and cherish you. Today. Tomorrow. And Forever. A part of me will always be always yours.

Happy anniversary babe. You have no idea what it meant to be your wife. How deep and unconditional my love for you is. And those 732 days were the best days of my life… I'd trade a lifetime to have just one more...

Before the sun and moon and stars
Were put there in the sky
Before the mountains stood tall
Above this world so high
I loved you then, I love you now
And I'll love you until….
Always have, always will

Always yours….

Seeking Closure: The Next Chapter

Kurt was finally interred on the weekend. Just a week short of three years since he died, we finally returned him to his family who have gone before, in the family plots in town where he grew up. Buried the past as it will. And let him rest.

I was hoping this final act would help me bury my past as well. Give me closure to what has been a troubling and trying time in my life. I should have known it wouldn’t. For while Kurt’s remains are now safe, his life and death recorded on the monument for posterity, he still lives, breathes, and exists with every beat of my heart. Every breath of his son. His life is not in that urn, or the larger urn that rests close to me at the Columbarium. It is all around me.

I cannot bury and walk away from my past. Because my past is also my present. Me and We are one and the same.

I cannot close the book on him. Rather, I walk away from the cemetery to write another chapter in our shared existence together.

Rest well, my love. Your body, turned to dust, may rest far underground. But you gave me your heart, and I carry that with me into our tomorrow. I will treasure that part of you. Treat it with care. And can’t wait to return it to you someday.

I love you.  We love you.