Two Years Later

My first photos of 2024, an obliging crab apple at the height of it’s glory. It just made me so happy!

I have so many narratives running around in my head this morning. Three constants, of course. Two years ago, this week our dear Jimmy died. I can still see the whole scene so clearly. First, the discovery that he had gone. I remember holding him as I felt the warmth drain from his body, being confounded and grief-stricken. Calling Cindy first and then feeling the loving team of Cindy, Ron, Peggy and Jose’ holding me up and holding me down. I remember my brain in its confusion not being able to focus and needing reassurance from my friends that what I thought was real was actually so.

I remember calling Elizabeth and talking her back to her apartment to be safe in her grief. I remember calling poor Natalie first so she would be there with Sean when I told him his father had died. I can see her pulling her car off to the side of the road to talk to me, bless her, and changing her course to Sean’s office. I can see her asking to see him and telling him he needed to call me. What other conclusion could have possibly gone thorough his mind? I could hear her in the background changing his flight from Wednesday to that afternoon.

And then Bill and RJ to let them know and to get the word out to his community. Word spread so quickly that for the next few days our house became full of too many well wishers making too much noise. It was all overwhelming.

This is also the week of our children’s birthdays, Sean’s the day before his death and Elizabeth’s a few days later. We hugged and wept and became resolute in our love for each other and went on. And we are still going on.

Last year we were together in Florida. This year we are apart.

I, once again, am stumped about how to proceed. Processing has been done. Grieving has been done. Healing is progressing, but there remains a hole with emotions swirling in it that I have yet to pin down. The first is relief in knowing that we never have to do THAT again.

The second is a little satisfaction and pride in the fact we all survived and we are coming out on the other side. There is a big thank you in my heart for every person who helped us along the way. Every person who has grieved before and opened their hearts to share what they could about how to heal and what that might look like. And to every person who let us cry or cried with us. It has not been an easy two years, but we are on the verge of healing.

Three is learning how to live with #2. Do we leave Jim behind in our healing? Of course, he is gone, but I resist leaving him behind. I suppose that is the real conundrum, how to do both. I am thinking that after all of the pondering, soul searching, crying, laughing at myself and OMG feeling so sorry for myself that I might finally be done with it all.

I might have found the peace that Jim would have wanted me to find.

I know that Elizabeth, Sean and I as well as oh so many of his friends will always carry him within our hearts and our memories. But I finally understand, as I have witnessed these past 730 days that life – indeed – does go on.

And I am content with that, sort of. Elizabeth and I were talking yesterday about how we should honor his death date going forward. She said she might light a candle for him. I said I would spend it at home by myself so that I wouldn’t be bothering my friends, but I have changed my mind after writing this. I will celebrate that day with people who also clearly remember that morning two years ago when they also lost a person they loved, our Jimmy.

A new tradition. Jimmy would love that!