CN: Really Real Widow Post

I think Parker is singing to me.

I keep hearing Hello by Adele.

Specifically, one verse.

“Hello from the outside
At least I can say that I’ve tried
To tell you I’m sorry
For breaking your heart
But it don’t matter, it clearly
Doesn’t tear you apart anymore”

Grief has come around to visit again.

Lots of little things keep happening.  I went to move a box and came across something with Parker’s handwriting.  It was like being punched in the gut.  It’s been awhile since I’ve seen the way she forms her letters.  It was just one word, but I knew it was hers immediately.

Today she got mail.  Do you think she wants to open a credit card?  At least her credit is now good enough that she’s getting preapproval letters.  That’s also kind of scary.

And I’ve been talking to a friend online.  She’s relatively newly widowed.  And we talk a few times a week.  It’s reminding me what it was like in those early months.  All of the varied emotions that constantly rotated through as I learned how to function without Parker by my side.

And that song verse has lots of meanings for me, which i why my brain won’t let it go.

I know Parker never would have intentionally hurt me like this.  If she could have stayed, she would have and I can almost hear her saying how sorry she is.

And then at the same time I look at the life I’m living now.

I look at the fact that I truly feel like I’m finally living my best life.  And just like in those early days of grief I wonder if I grieve enough over losing her.

Was I sad enough, hurt enough, devastated enough.

Why didn’t it destroy my life to lose her.

Where is my black veil and why aren’t I still wearing it?
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And then I stop writing to let the sobs rip through me because holy shit . . . I miss her like mad fucking crazy.

It does still tear me apart.  There is still a Parker sized hole in my heart, but the edges are smoother and I learned to live around it.  My heart grew big enough to hold the hurt and still hold an amazing life around it.  I learned to cover it up with love and life and living big and bold and beautiful.

It still hurts underneath it all.  It still hurts big sometimes.

I miss her, I love her, that won’t ever change, but I give myself permission to live my best life anyway.

We’re both worth it.