I have been thinking of this a lot the past few days. Processing Grief and the stages of grief they tell us we go through. I belief each person's grief is entirely their own, not definable. I have never put much stock in stages such as denial and acceptance. Each loss, each life is more complex than that.
Several people have asked me where is the anger. Those who know me in real life and/or know the whole story, accept that I will never feel anger at my husband. I am not capable. The words I have written here, the cause, the hurt, the reaction are truly just a slice of a horrendous story. An almost unbelievable story. My husband falls outside of the normal psychological makeup of one who is lost this way. He is not "textbook" which is why I have always disliked easy answers for life's troubles. His decision was wrong, especially in light of the situation and the people it involved. I am not deluding myself here. I have close friends and family who could verify this for me. This is not Laura, not wanting to face the truth. When I say the story reads like something out of a fantastical novel, I am not exaggerating...much. It is also why it is sometimes hard to write here and read some comments because I haven't, and cannot, give the full story here. Suffice to say, if you knew the whole story, you could not find yourself angry at my beloved either. In so many ways, he was always the boy (the boy abandoned) who spent his life helping, and trying to make things better for others. And this was the only time he was wrong with that intention. This was not a man who wanted to leave me. Again, no delusions here.
James and Nik went out on a date together. She asked him if he would like to go and see "Horton Hears a Who" with her tonight and out for dinner. It was nice of her to ask and he was excited about it so I paid their way. I hope they have a good time. Sitting here, alone in the house, is a glimpse at the future. A future with them off on their own. I confess it scares me because where I had imagined there would be quiet nights spent with my love...there will be huge empty nights, filled with books and loneliness.
For now that is how I feel. My love for my husband... my family...what we had...was so big, I kicked out anything else that interfered. I guess I must find myself as a one now. As a just me. And that sucks.