Emptiness
Published on 25 Dec 2011 at 5:58 pm.
3 Comments.
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It’s my third Christmas without Maggie. So far, it’s unique in that I haven’t been overwhelmingly sad: no meltdowns, no wallowing, no misery. However, don’t misread what I type as a description of Christmas joy or, hell, even joy. Her absence still cuts a deep emotional wake. I feel like I’m coated in some sort of waxy substance that makes everything feel gray and dingy and blah. Christmas cheer definitely has found no home here at the Weaver house.
What’s noticeably absent this year that was so prevalent the years previous is pain. I’m really not hurting, per se, and that’s different. Instead, what I feel is just emptiness, plain ol’ emptiness, like there’s just a great big hole right in the middle of me where something super important should be. It’s not pain. It’s just empty.
Maggie used to surprise me with the greatest gifts on Christmas morning. She’d sneak a real zinger onto my pillow when I ran to the bathroom or let the dogs out. (She was sneaky!) When I’d return, she’d offer a grin and a giggle as I opened it. I loved those moments. But this morning, no gift, no grin, no giggle. Just silence. So instead of spinning up for a fun day of Christmas festivities, I laid in bed alone for two hours, pondering what’s left of my life. (It’s just remarkable how I’m still very profoundly affected by all of what has happened.)
Empty….
But empty beats crippling sadness and pain.
Joan on 25 Dec 2011 at 6:06 pm: 1
I’ve been reading your blog for years. I lost my husband in November of 2008 so I really understand everything you write. I am always glad to see a post from you. Your honesty is so refreshing in this fakey (?) world that we live in. Please keep writing.
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thumperj Reply:
December 25th, 2011 at 6:26 pm
Hi, Joan, thanks for letting me know that you are out there. I’ll see if I can write more often. For you.
I’m sorry about your husband.
Also, please check out Widow’s Voice and Widowed Village, if you haven’t yet.
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Alex on 1 Jan 2012 at 4:05 pm: 2
Chris,
I’ve also been reading your writing for years at this point, and have often found myself thinking of you and Maggie. I am glad to know that you’re hanging in there as best you can, and very much hope that soon you will find the emptiness filled with more memories of her and the wonderful life that you shared to the greatest possible extent.
If I might offer something that has had a profound impact on my life and my losses; look for the Tibetan Book of Living and Dying, if you feel inclined and have the time. Perhaps it will help you as much as it has me.
I hope for continued healing and comfort to you.
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