The Darkest Time of Year


It’s been a while since I’ve written anything.  I feel words starting to bubble up, but haven’t wanted to act on letting them go. 

Late last summer something started to shift inside me. I stopped grieving.  I still missed Rick, but it was no longer in the forefront of my consciousness.  I was here, now, in July of 2015 and starting to wake up and feel good.  It had been a long journey, but I was at the end of it and ready for what comes next.

And then… I heard from my brother.  What was thought to be arthritis, then nerve damage, turned out to be cancer: metastasized, stage 4, terminal.  That news came on the 3rd anniversary of the day on which Rick went into the hospital. I spent what would have been my 10th wedding anniversary with him and my sister in law for what I knew would be my final visit.  He died in late December. He and Rick were close; one of my favorite pictures is the two of them leaning towards each other and both making the same silly face.  When Rick died, my brother wrote a heart-felt eulogy; I’ve now returned the favor by writing one for him.

The moving forward I experienced in July disappeared. Emotionally, I went back to where I had been 3 years earlier, almost overwhelmed with sadness and feeling cut off from life.  There wasn’t anything to write last fall that I hadn’t already written  2 or 3 years ago.

By now, I should have it figured out, but I’m still floundering.  I should be at the next stage of my life, whether that means moving on to a new relationship or being happy and content on my own.  I’m neither.  I thought I’d grown into a wise woman capable of doing anything.  Instead, I’m spending my evenings watching binge-watching old TV shows.  I wait for the next bad news. 

I’ve sat on this post for a few days.  Waiting for the coda that shows my realization this is just one spot in a long journey, or the epiphany that turns this very personal revelation into something with universal meaning.  Neither has come to me.  I think, for now, I’m just feeling low.  I’m still stuck working a job I no longer like.  It’s winter, and the sky is dark when I leave in the morning and when I come home at night.  There will be more sun in my life, both literally and figuratively, but right now is the darkest time of year.


4 thoughts on “The Darkest Time of Year

  1. I’ve thought of you and wondered how things were going. I’m so very sorry about your brother, and how that trauma has set you back. Understandable … and I realize that it is easy for me to say that.
    You were starting to see some light, and then darkness came again.
    I wish I had words to comfort or of wisdom.
    As it is, I’m just glad that you wrote down your thoughts.

  2. You post has brought a few tears to my eyes. Having lost my husband 15 years ago, and my best friend 6 years ago I was finally moving on then, bam!!! The passing of my (new) father in law totally blindsided me to the point of tears that flowed incessantly for almost 6 months. It was a very dark time. I hated everyone, everything and mostly myself. I wanted to leave my husband, my family and, well, everything, and just run and hide. A trusted friend saw something wrong and gently encouraged me to talk and eventually I was able to confront my grief (again) and enter a new phase of healing. Another 6 months down the track I am feeling stronger …. but deep down, I know this isnt over yet. Love and light to you in your journey.

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