You have laid me in the lowest pit, in darkness, in the deeps. - Psalm, 88:6, American King James Bible
After the death, after the weeks of shock had begun to wear thin, putting down the burden of grief is more of a temporary matter, no matter how much I wish it was more permanent. After two weeks of great pain, of feeling wounded, yesterday and this morning I mostly remembered Rob with joy. Yes, joy. I know, it all feels so foreign.
Grief is more like a spiral, like a Klein bottle. Orientation is largely moment to moment and even then coming across an unexpected artifact can undo any sense of permanence And so it is not too surprising that I am not able to predict where I will land as I move through each day. I move through periods of calm and those drenched in terror. Through wakefulness, sudden bouts of crying, and now and then tender moments when I recall the man I have loved for so long. To not feel is to prolong the agony, the uncertainty and to memorialize the pain. Not feeling distances me from Rob.
The last two weeks have been fraught with sorrows so deep I am mining well beneath the surface. The disbelief about Rob's illness and death has cracked some, leaving fissures I can now grab as I haul myself out of the deeps inch by inch.