Photo credit: John Gibbons Unsplash.com
Grief encapsulated me. Like a translucent membrane grief separated me and the outside world.It blurred my perspective, muffled everyday chatter and stole my ability to focus.
My life was like an old movie reel. Each frame played without sound as if I was a spectator and not an active participant.I existed in this realm, incapable of returning to my former life, but unable to step into my new life. My old self slowly degenerated into a hollowed, dark-eyed, smileless figure hardly recognizable. Unable to connect, I stumbled about with a valiant attempt to complete daily tasks. How long this vicious existence went on remains unclear to me.
And then one day, it happened. Not loudly. Softly enough to go unnoticed by others. In my ears it blared like a foghorn. My body was swiftly swarmed by a rush of guilt. After all, how could I laugh when the man I loved so deeply was no longer here?
For the griever, there is this line we are uneasy crossing. On the other side of the line lies happiness, joy, smiles and laughter. We punitively deny ourselves these experiences because we feel we don’t deserve them if our loved one isn’t here to enjoy them too.
That moment, as the soft sound of my own laugh emerged, was a turning point. It was the start of acceptance of the new life I would assume, understanding that I could experience happiness again and revelation that some how, some way I would redefine both myself and my life. Moving forward was possible.
Kim Libertini is all too familiar with grief and the Co-Founder of Goodgrief App, the social network for loss available for less than a latte, for download in the App Store, Google Play and www.goodgriefapp.com. You can follow Goodgrief App on Facebook, Instagram and Twitter.