Paul died. But our relationship did not die, it was put on hold. Our marriage was not perfect, it was always a ‘work in progress’ (as all marriages are of course). Even after nearly 25 years together, we were still working on things, so it feels like that process has been rudely interrupted, such that we can no longer do anything to improve things. I have wonderful memories of our relationship, which at its core was always very good and strong, but our marriage was still growing. Unsurprisingly, it grew enormously during the last two years while Paul was ill – adversity has a habit of drawing people closer. You just discard all the trivia, which suddenly seems completely irrelevant and meaningless, and focus on the heart of your relationship. We were there for each other, doing our best to help each other through. ‘In sickness and in health’.
I have thought a lot about the concept of time since Paul had to leave. Time has taken on a whole new meaning and seems to be an entirely different concept to how I saw it in my earlier life and while Paul was alive. I know that as human beings we are eternal, and I realise that this life (whilst seeming very ‘real’ and ‘final’ whilst we are here) is far from the whole story. For me, eternity is reality and this earthly life is brief, a spec of dust or a grain of sand by comparison to my never ending eternal life.
I believe when we meet again, we will know each other, and resume our friendship. But the question arises, how to handle the ‘inbetween’? How on earth do I relate to him in the interim, which could last many, many years or decades? How do I manage my feelings and my love for Paul in this period while he is absent and when we cannot develop our friendship?
I knew the person Paul was up to the age of 50, but I will never know what Paul might have been like at age 53 – the age he would have been had he survived, what sort of grandparent he might have made, how he would relate to his boys now they are older, how he would have changed from 50 onwards. We saw enormous changes in him in the period before he died, so I have a good idea of the changed person he would have been, but we will never know how his character would have developed from then. We will one day meet the ‘complete’ Paul, the ‘version’ of him which God originally created him to be. That’s the Paul I will get to know when I see him next. Paul liked an advert (for vitamins) which if you took them promised to produce “You, but on a really good day”. He liked that concept, and that’s the Paul I will next meet – all his best qualities highly magnified; all his weaknesses forever snuffed out.
In the meantime, I am slowly finding new ways to relate to Paul. I am trying to find positive ways to live my life, whilst at the same time managing my feelings and love for Paul, my memories of him, my continual awareness of his continued absence, my sorrow for all that we (and he) have lost. I have no intention of ever forgetting him, ‘getting over’ losing him or losing touch with my memories of my life with him. He will always be hidden away safely somewhere in my heart. In this way I can grieve with hope; hope that we will meet again; hope that life will one day seem worth living again; hope that I will one day be able to live fully the life on this earth that was so cruelly snatched away from him.
rawgriefrawhope 