What am I afraid of? Keeping myself under control feels like I'm protecting myself; but what am I protecting myself from? I like to think that I'm sparing other people from having to deal with an uncomfortable situation, that nobody really wants to see another person's pain. I definitely work hard to protect my mother, who worries too much anyway although she'd never own up to it. I have to be ok for her. I find it embarrassing and scary to allow other people to see weakness in me. I see myself as stronger than that.
Why am I not angry that he left me? I keep experiencing things that should have been shared, and it's just not fair, damn it. A hundred times a day something will remind me of a funny story about him, or something will make me think "he would have loved that." It's the essence of missing somebody. But am I angry? We spent so many years knowing that our time together would be short that maybe I got over being angry a long time ago. Am I disappointed to my core? Yes. Do I wish he had been here to help me when I broke my knee? You betcha. But I'm thinking that he probably didn't want to die any more than I want to live without him.
The truth is that my grief and sense of loss is all-encompassing. I'm not a spiritual person nor a religious person; it might be easier if I was. All I can rely on is my own control over how I present myself to the world, my own inner resources and my own ability to put one foot in front of the other and do what I need to do.
So: what would happen if I let a few people take a peek behind the curtain?
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