This Fool's Holding On

I probably should quit telling people that I miss Greg when they ask how I am doing. Responses range from “I bet you do” to “You need to let him go” to “You need to move on with your life” to “What you need to do is find a man and have some fun.” (I toned that last one down but I’m sure you get the drift.) I have been told to sell our home, to do something different, to get out and do things, to get Greg’s belongings out of the house, that I don’t need to live in the past and to not let guilt cause me to cling to the past.

I have been told these things by people who have never lost a spouse and by people who have lost a spouse and remarried. I don’t know if they don’t understand grief or have buried it deeper than I have been able to, or if their emotional connection to their spouse didn’t go to the bone. Most likely they don’t comprehend the bond that Greg and I shared.

In six days it will be two years since Greg left this life. Some days it feels like it’s been an eternity. Other days it feels like it was five seconds ago. 

Grief has been my constant companion since 14 August 2019. While I have shed countless tears since then, I have not become a recluse, never getting out and doing things that interest me. I dine out – alone and with friends. I have attended concerts – once in another state. I go shopping when the mood strikes. I do printing jobs for long-time customers. 

While I miss Greg so badly at times that I wonder if this really is my life now, I will not sell our home. I will not remove all of Greg’s belongings from the house. I will not actively seek another love to be in my life.

‘Cause I’ve been a fool too long.