Second verse, not quite the same as the first, and a lot less worse.

Last year about this time I was coming up on what I called my season of firsts: September ... our wedding anniversary ...October ... my birthday...In November it would be hard to feel thankful when all I wanted to do was be with Jim  ...Christmas … I could not even imagine it...New Year’s...So hard to look ahead with so much left behind ...Finally February 19th would bring the first anniversary of Jim’s death. With the help of time, friends & family, a grief counselor and xanax (in no particular order), I got through it. Of course.  

Our last Christmas, Monterey 2013

As the anniversary of my husband's death neared, Kristina, my grief counselor, and I discussed my fears and my plans for getting through it.  While Jim and I were living through what would be his last month, everything was moving and changing so fast. But in retrospect I could remember and re-live again, and  again, the horrible details of that month. It was like some Kafka-esque slow motion replay of the anguish, suffering and roller coaster ride of the last month  of Jim's life. February 19th came and despite my expectations, of course I survived...What else could I do. Life wants to live. And so, that morning, as I  have every other, I told myself, "if you don't get up now, you never will". And do you know what?  I cannot fully explain it but something magical did happen, after that sad day passed, I did feel lighter! As if a load had lifted off my shoulders. I had lived in such dread of that day, and I survived!

I am still amazed that I have gotten through this past year, and am now in my Season of Seconds.  Our anniversary fell over Labor Day weekend and I knew I was just going to hibernate and be sad. But I also did a lot of meditating and reflecting. Much of my grief work has been focused on mindfulness.  And so, as I approach my birthday and Thanksgiving, it is my intent and my goal to be in the present, to be grateful for the moment I am in now. I have also given myself permission to fully immerse myself in grief, if need be, on days that are specific to Jim - his birthday, our anniversary, and the day of his death. Those are days when being present means being present with my grief, my loss, my loneliness. But days like my birthday, Thanksgiving and Christmas are all intended to be celebrations filled with happy memories, laughter and love. I know it won’t be easy, but with intention and attention, I have a better chance or not just surviving these milestones, but thriving.