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It Was The Beginning of The End
May. 21st, 2008 06:11 amA year ago this evening Lohain experienced the first episode of the condition which would end his life ten days later.
Because of his wishes, I can't write the details. I can only say that all of us (he,![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
_storyteller_ and I) were concerned, but I don't think any of us believed it would end up being fatal.
Or maybe it was simply inconceivable that this strong man who was so full of life and dreams could be taken from us.
But the ravens knew. Their deaths heralded his own.
I am feeling the beginning of the end of my Mourning, shifting slowly -- and with some setbacks, for it is not a straight path -- toward Acceptance. What I didn't understand before is that acceptance doesn't mean that I'm "okay" with his death, that I don't miss him, that I don't still love him, don't still feel there is a hole in my life. It means that his absence has become part of my life, not a rending of it. There has been healing. Typing it brings tears to my eyes but I am not sobbing, as I once did when I wrote posts with this icon. I assume that it will be a very long time before I am immune to crying for his loss, and may never be. But those episodes become less and less frequent.
May 31 is a Saturday. I'm going to go on a hike to honor him. There are other things I plan to do as well, but the hike is going to be the central activity. He loved the outdoors -- and loved getting me out there with him. And it will do me good to be out in the sunshine and fresh air to remember him, not spending any more time in my room.
Because of his wishes, I can't write the details. I can only say that all of us (he,
_storyteller_ and I) were concerned, but I don't think any of us believed it would end up being fatal. Or maybe it was simply inconceivable that this strong man who was so full of life and dreams could be taken from us.
But the ravens knew. Their deaths heralded his own.
I am feeling the beginning of the end of my Mourning, shifting slowly -- and with some setbacks, for it is not a straight path -- toward Acceptance. What I didn't understand before is that acceptance doesn't mean that I'm "okay" with his death, that I don't miss him, that I don't still love him, don't still feel there is a hole in my life. It means that his absence has become part of my life, not a rending of it. There has been healing. Typing it brings tears to my eyes but I am not sobbing, as I once did when I wrote posts with this icon. I assume that it will be a very long time before I am immune to crying for his loss, and may never be. But those episodes become less and less frequent.
May 31 is a Saturday. I'm going to go on a hike to honor him. There are other things I plan to do as well, but the hike is going to be the central activity. He loved the outdoors -- and loved getting me out there with him. And it will do me good to be out in the sunshine and fresh air to remember him, not spending any more time in my room.
