Home Alone
Home Alone
I’m in the house alone
For the first time in months.
At first I felt such relief,
A breath of fresh air, of calm.
But your ghost comes alive
And the howling winds of a past life squall
And return to be collected by our home.
And I fall apart
And weep.
Life is just still so much.
I’m moving forward and living life
And the home is a place of life again
For me and the boys
And our roommates.
But I miss you
And miss what we had.
I wander the floors and pause at our photos,
Remembering what feels so long ago
And so so gone.
Who is that man?
Where did his life go?
What happened to his heart?
It’s been pounded,
It’s been loved.
It’s been to hell and back
And it’s been made new.
I want to live again
And feel so guilty to do so.
But your words come alive again
Filling the halls.
Telling me to be free, to live.
But I had no choice in the matter!
And all I can do in the moment is weep.
But I need to take a nap
And recharge
Because the house is not alone.
It’s filled with life and responsibility
And all of that has never left.
So I poorly do what you did so well
And march us forward.
And I will go live my life
Because it’s my only option
And the only way forward.
(Written Saturday, May 6 (day 142). This was an unexpected experience and one I have learned is a part of moving forward in grief. My days can now hold great joy, hope, and promise but also sorrow and sadness. For the last five weeks I have felt as though the clouds of grief and deep sadness have lifted. I’ve been grateful to lean into the excitement of living life again. And Lindsey did such a good job of speaking to me about life after her. Fortunately, we had ample time and some powerful conversations regarding me moving on one day, and I’m so grateful for that. But, I still struggle at times with guilt over moving on and living my life again. And, regardless of how guilt chooses to haunt me daily, I still feel great sadness over being in this life situation at times. And, that feeling of sadness and loss swept over me Saturday. The boys were gone, my roommates were gone, and I had the house to myself to rest and get ready for the evening. I was so relieved to have the house to myself and did not expect to be cut down with a wave of grief. It was cathartic to lean into and so good to weep. I hadn’t wept in well over a month. This musing was a download of that experience Saturday).
