The story I’m making up for myself is that, because XXX is still alive, I don’t have to mourn him.
I’ve known this all along but I haven’t been ready to hear it. Now I am.
So I’m telling myself that we have time left. Accepting that, I’ve seen the grief lift. I’ve had a preview. Now I know what to expect.
Or at least that’s the way I’m representing things to myself. I’m doing all of this with awareness. It seems to be working.
Of course, the truth is that I have no idea what may be happening inside myself or to a great extent outside.
But I don’t feel grief-stricken today. I don’t feel enraged. I had a few moments of irritability earlier today but nothing unusual – for me.
My sense of interest has returned. I listened to a friend for about an hour today and found I enjoyed myself. Does this mean I can relax?
I detect an undercurrent of despondency, very deep in my background consciousness. It makes itself known when I go to commit to an uplifting project or make some big change in my life. It says, “I’m not ready yet.” So there’s still some rehab needed.
What has this done for me and to me? Well, it’s hollowed me out. When one is deep in grief, the things that are normally so important lose all importance. Any pretense being lived is revealed. The impression one is striving to convey stands out in stark relief. And all of it seems so meritless, worthless.
I’ve therefore seen the collapse of some pretty-entrenched self-images and self-serving strategies. I think that was part of what the events of this time were designed to do, was it not: Hollow us out? So that we could be filled?
Distinctly I was being hollowed out of ego so it was useful. Nothing else I can think of would have done the same job.
I predict that later in life I’ll contemplate taking on a new job and I’ll feel a slight sense of despondency. And I’ll wonder where that despondency comes from.
I’ll never guess that it comes from hearing this bad news.
OK, back to normal for me and back to work. I’m ready.