It's hard to believe, at times, but today is the tenth anniversary of Greg's death. Ten years since I watched him die after a week of Intensive Care in hospital and after six years of even more intensive alcohol addiction. Six years of him drinking to excess, shouting, swaying, slumbering and crisis after crisis. Six years of Kay and me treading on eggshells, fearful to invoke another angry outburst from him, living in fear of the house burning down from one of his fallen cigarettes, hoping in vain a miracle would happen and that he would stop drinking. Ten years have since passed, adjusting to the calm; feeling more relaxed, yet getting angry at what life could have been now but for the alcohol; feeling nostalgic for happier times. So many emotions, so many wishes, so many dashed plans.
I still miss him. Of course, I do. You cannot throw away the thirty-nine years we spent together without feeling something. Thirty-three of those years were happy. It was just those very last six years, but six years that unfortunately hung a huge cloud over the rest. A huge cloud that enveloped me so much it occluded the previous happier times. I have tried over the ten years to keep busy in various ways to smother the memories, good or bad, but occasionally those memories bubble to the surface.
The last ten years have, however, seen me mellow. Gradually. Not at first, because the anger and resentment fought to be the prime emotions. Why him? Why me? Why us? But over the years I have come to understand more about addiction and its companion, depression. My anger has turned to pity, to sadness, to longing and now to acceptance.
Kay too has been through a whirlpool of emotions over the last ten years, struggling to maintain the equilibrium whilst coping with studies at school and uni, forging new friendships and becoming an adult. I have seen it affect her in so many ways. She has now also more or less come to terms with it, but I notice it still gets to her sometimes, like last week when she asked if I could lay my hands on a certain photo - "the last one I had taken with him" she adds with a wobble in her voice.
Today we are both visiting his home town in the Midlands to mark the occasion at the spot where we scattered his ashes. We shall talk to him, update him on the latest news, reprimand him for being a naughty boy and tell him how much we miss him.
I have often thought about the possibility of having another relationship, but cannot even bring myself to start the very beginnings. Part of me thinks it would feel like a betrayal. Part of me feels I cannot cope with any more tugs on my emotions, particularly if it all went wrong. I have learned to be stronger, to be a survivor. Even if I say it myself, I have coped remarkably well solo. I have been without him for ten years. A quarter of the time we were together. My logic tells me I cannot keep on marking the anniversaries forever. Ten years seems a good enough place to stop.
5 comments:
Anniversaries bring with them big emotions and I can see from what you say the emotions you’ve been through are massive. It’s good that you can still recall the good years as well as the tough ones. It sounds like you are ready to make some new strides in your life and you certainly deserve to give yourself that opportunity. You’ve given a lot to this blogging community and I am personally really grateful for your support and viewpoint. All the best. Jim x
A long time and a blink of an eye. Feels like yesterday and also a different world. Funny thing time, how it relentlessly marches on whilst standing still.
It's so hard watching someone die from an illness over a long time, you know the inevitable end, that you do and don't want to come in equal amounts.
You've done well these last 10 years, you really have managed through a lot of stuff.
It's been a lovely day to be in this area. Sending loving thoughts x
It's satisfying when resentment and anger morphs into a healthy, healing form of empathy.
Recently my eldest sister shared a memory of her screaming and grabbing at my father as he held my dear mother under water in the tub. My first instinct was to get very angry again but quickly remembered that my father had been abused and abandoned by his parents, he used alcohol to make life liveable for him (however misguided or destructive).
Eventually that man got sober. Eventually he tried to make his amends. Eventually he became a friend that I valued.
I cannot underestimate the effect of what happened to me and my family and how our body and soul processes those traumatic experiences. But I can keep moving forward and develop the self love I rejected when the family dysfunction told me I had no value.
I cannot say I fully understand what you went through, how you coped, why you had to live through those times and the outcome of it all. But I can say, your emotions and expressions of sharing where you are now, what you are feeling and how you've dealt with these last ten years is strength and beauty in itself. Whatever you may do moving forward, I think you are strong and wise and will continue to move towards the "right" path. A decade is a perfect stopping point, and a great start for new beginnings. -Dana
I have read this heartfelt blogpost. I agree with "Ten years seems a good enough place to stop" even though Greg will remain with you and with Kay forever.
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