Oh Wingman and BarbieBob
I feel for you, and for everyone else who has experienced a loss this time of year. And of course for myself. I'm getting better at letting myself cry, and it does feel better afterwards.
I've been losing my brave a lot this past weekend. I'm becoming aware of the difficult times, when my brave starts to waver. Friday nights are always tough. And then Saturday mornings, when I take my Mum grocery shopping and then do my own. I think grocery shopping is one of the worst for me, which I tend to do on weekends, because one of the things I was able to do for Tyson was to cook for him. When he started chemo the oncologist explained that it was very important to try not to lose weight through the chemo, and since I love to cook, I made it my mission to cook for my sweetie, and his mission was to eat it. He enjoyed his meals right up to the end, even though it was exhausting for him to sit up and eat by then. Now when I am grocery shopping I often find I get that whumpf feeling in my chest when I am standing looking at food in an aisle. No one particular aisle, it just seems like I have to experience that whumpf every time I go grocery shopping.
I journal often, and that seems to help. And I remind myself to be grateful for what I have, despite the giant hole in my heart. And I have others to cook for, and to sing for, despite not having my one.
What does losing your brave feel like? For me it is an overwhelming bodily weariness, where every step feels like I am trudging through deep sand. All I can do is keep putting one foot in front of the other, and eventually it gets easier again. Phew!
Rock Girl