Face the river

I’m sitting here watching a river of rain run through my yard. It’s been raining for days now. My yard is saturated, unable to drain fast enough. My 1980 septic system means no shower, or laundry, or, well you get the point.

But outside isn’t the only place it’s been raining this weekend. I think I’ve cried a river all by myself the last few days. That would explain the massive migraine I woke up to this morning. The pain in my head is letting up finally, but this pain in my heart. Well, I’m not sure it’s ever going to.

Grieving people will tell you the holidays are hard. It doesn’t matter if its Easter, Christmas, or Fourth of July. What they don’t tell you is all the days in between are just as hard. People on the outside looking in think things should be getting better, easier by now. Joe’s been gone for over a year and a half. I think things should be getting easier by now. But the truth is, his loss will always be heavy. As time passes, I just have to learn how to carry it with me. Most of the time I feel like I’m doing okay. But when things go wrong around here (too much rain) or holidays roll in, I tend to fall apart.

I’m sharing this beautiful cover of Gavin DeGraw’s “Face The River”. My very talented friend covers it flawlessly. DeGraw wrote it for his parents, symbolizing all of the sacrifices they made for their family. For me, the river is my grief. It flows through me every second of every day.

There are no triggers anymore. The tears fall when they want to, and like this rain coming down, there’s no stopping them. I have the ability to move forward, and for the most part I am. I go to work every day, make plans, convince myself to keep going, and follow through most of the time. But every once in a while, like this weekend, I’m frozen, unable to take a step. I realized the other night that I’m not afraid of doing things alone. Alone really just means without my Joe. And after all this time I still don’t know how to do that.

For now, I’m off to hook up the sump pump to help drain this water from my yard. It’s still raining so for the moment that seems futile. Just like all these tears. I’ve cried enough. Time to shake it off and salvage what’s left of the weekend.

I do want to figure out how to cross this metaphoric river, live life to the fullest, and hopefully find real love again. But after weekends like this, I’m afraid there won’t be anyone out there who can handle my grief. Let’s be honest, that first real hug from someone new will result in tears as deep as the river in my yard. Hopefully he’ll just throw me a lifeline and hold on tighter.