Happy Heavenly Birthday, Mr. Virgo. You would have been sixty-nine today. Would you have been retired by now? Would we have pulled that camper all over the country? Would our golf game be any better? It’s hard to say, but my guess is…we would have been out hitting some balls today.
My life is so different now…I do different things. I camp and write about it. I grieve and write about it. I got married again…and I write about it! Nothing is safe anymore…it’s all blog fodder. But in a good way.
I remember all the stages, all the phases, all the fear and pain and anger your loss caused me. I remember it all. At the same time, the edges are fuzzy. A little out of focus. The only words I can hear your voice say in my mind anymore is “I love you, baby doll.” I can picture your hands…your earlobes…your hair. It’s like I can see all the pieces of the puzzle but I cannot seem to piece them all together and put together a workable picture of you. Sometimes it’s frustrating. Sometimes its a Godsend.
As I always tell my readers, the pain of grief is always much, much worse when I’m tired. Sunday night, I could not get to sleep. And the longer it went on, the more focused I became on being away. I knew I’d be tired. And I knew the waves could hit any minutes, even if you never crossed my mind.
I finally drifted off for about 20 minutes and woke up freezing. I turned off the fan, threw a blanket over me, and went to sleep for…maybe a half hour. This time, I woke up overheated, sweating profusely, and anxious/nauseated/jittery. I finally got up, turned the fan back on, and got sick.
Grief.
Waves of seemingly unending grief have dwindled to the rare bad night. Sunday night was it. I hate disturbing Mr. FixIt if I’m jumping up and down all night so I moved to the guest room, took something for my upset stomach, and finally slipped into a sound sleep for four or five hours. This is the way it works now. The fact that I am happily married doesn’t seem to phase it. We never “get over it”….but we do learn how to hold our grief with soft hands so as to not wake up the beast.
It is your 69th. You are there with your mom and dad…and cousin-in-law Dennis…and now, your firstborn, Shannon. She has been with you for two years. I know you all are together and having a cigar on the back 9…watching the sunset.
I will always love you and remember you in so many ways. It’s funny how your shape in my life has changed over time. Each year you step a tiny bit further away. Your star shines a tiny bit less in my every day life…but you’re so much bigger in the grand moments. And still, every once it a while, a wave hits me and I have a bad night. Thank God, they are fewer and farther between.
So…
Happy Birthday, Mr. Virgo!
❤️
“So also you have sorrow now, but I will see you again, and your hearts will rejoice, and no one will take your joy from you.”
John 16:22 ESV
Your Mr. Virgo was a true gem. I have marveled at your timely words surrounded by grief over the years. You have guided a many of us through difficult times whether our better half or someone near and dear to us has departed. Thank you, Ginny. May you be blessed with a sign of love!
❤️
On significant days, the grief appears and takes front and center in my heart. I try to push it away and go on with life, but on those special days the grief refuses to go away. On those days I carry on my with my tasks with a heavy heart. I remember my life with TB, our forever home, and our growing old together.
Thankfully those feelings pass and grief subsides to the dark corners and I return to my “ new” normal.