open wound

Original date 18 December 2011

I wish I could report days of happiness and joy. But I can't.

I feel like I am walking around with an open wound. It's been like this throughout the whole holiday season.

This year feels worst than the past two years. Why am I crying so much?

I suppose I can answer my own question.

Brian loved Christmas. He loved Christmas not because he had so many wonderful childhood memories, more because of all the magic and wonder it stood for. Brian always yearned for the good life, for the "it's a wonderful life" life.

I yearned to give Brian everything he wanted. He deserved it all. What did he want most? Me.

I gave Brian my heart completely. I held nothing back. I brought him into my life, into my home, into my family, and we began planning for our life together. Just as those plans began to materialize, Brian was diagnosed with cancer. It was a sobering wake up call. I learned that while my love would last the test of time, our time together would not.

I won't lie. I did my share of anticipatory grieving, yet I kept this in check. I would not be short changed out of any possible time of loving him, holding him and celebrating him. Take all of this...his love for Christmas, reminders everywhere I look and listen, and...tears. Lots of tears.

I'm a mess and I know it. I'm a mess, and still, I am loved. I've decided not to run from it. I have never, ever, run from anything that appears scary or uncomfortable. I tend to be a "face it head on" type of girl. So if a song brings on emotion, I am allowing myself to sob as I sing.

I've decided to accept that I have this open wound. At the same time I have decided to accept that I want to have someone beside me willing, and wanting, to help me heal that wound. And I want him to not expect to completely fill the wound that I carry, and I don't necessarily want it completely filled. I think I want to feel both loved and fulfilled, yet with room to always acknowledge the place that only Brian occupies.

Open wound. Healing every day.