If I had written this 3 days ago, even the computer screen would be soaked in tears. Today, however, with the help and support from family and friends, and Fraser’s gifts from beyond, I have found my way to gratitude once again.
Three days ago I spent the day in bed. I got up, had breakfast with a special friend, DL , aaaand that was all I could muster for the rest of the day. I climbed back into bed and cried. And slept. And then cried some more. And then slept some more.
In between judgement and exhaustion I ultimately allowed the tears and quietly thanked them for being present, even if they were exhausting and nauseating. They were going to be there regardless of how I judged them, may as well try to find some compassion for them…for Me. When I woke up, Caelin had a hot cup of peppermint tea on my bedside table. To feel such comfort while I felt like languishing was my only way through (for the moment) is almost beyond what words can express. I had a flight booked the next day which was the only reason I could think of, at the time, worth getting out of bed for.
Grief comes in waves (how cliché, and so true). And, as time goes on, the waves get softer and longer in between, and I feel like this blog has taken that exact form. The sharing of the daily ebb and flow of possibility as a life hung upon its shore. The crashing of the wave as it ultimately took that life and left us to experience new waves of grief. And, as time has passed, those waves have gotten softer (sometimes) and the time between, longer.
3 weeks ago it was 6 months since Fraser spent his last conscious day here. He spent it with his friends preparing for their 25th annual golf trip. They sat by the pool for the day and I can only imagine the laughter, cajoling etc. that the boys do. By all accounts, I couldn’t wish a better day for him to end on. Except to spend it with us of course, but that’s for me, and this is the next best thing.
Our last moments together were when he dropped my friend and I off at the airport for a conference in Orlando. Fraser and I hugged. We kissed (just a cute little one so as not to draw too much attention). We said, “I love you” and “safe travels”. And off we went. And that was that. A rather simple moment, without knowing what ‘travels’ were just ahead of us.
~
Today, at 1:11 pm it is 6 months since Fraser died. Our last moments with me lying beside him and his sister with her hand on his arm. She was his first girl friend, and I, his last girlfriend. His Mom was on her way down the hall but perhaps Fraser left so he could walk those last few steps into the room with her.
I could use ‘nicer’, more ‘accepting’ words than ‘died’, but ultimately death is as much a part of our life as living. ‘Passed’ or ‘lost’ are softer, but doesn’t seem to quite catch the gravitas the meaning this moment has. It’s all semantics, really, but ultimately, our lives, for those remaining, took a new trajectory. A trajectory one never puts much thought into (not at this age anyways), but here we are. Here I am. Another ‘first’ in a number of firsts. Next is Mother’s Day; then June 11 would be (will? Damnit! It’s the past/present tense that still gets me) our 30th wedding anniversary; then Father’s day and two weeks later, Fraser’s 55th birthday. And on and on it goes. Firsts, but we’ve got a lot packed into a few weeks!
First family dinner. My Mom, both kids, my brother and his girls joined us for family dinner last Sunday night. It was noticeable to me that as we shuffled to find our seats, the head of the dining room table sat empty. No one wanting to fill the spot where Fraser once sat. Caelin had already sat down so Connor pulled up his chair at the head of the table. It struck me that this was our first family dinner ‘since’. These firsts suck, but that is simply a judgement on that which is. It’s a reminder of the ‘absence of’. Yes, his presence is felt in our memories, but it’s not the same. I miss him. We all do.
When I think of all that Fraser was and all he did for our family, I am overcome with an incredible sense of gratitude. That is what usually brings the tears. Gratitude that he chose me. That we chose each other. That we kept choosing each other even when it got tough. That we created and raised two beautiful humans. That, even in death, he made sure we are looked after as much as possible. That today, instead of languishing in bed, I can be in such a beautiful place with my heart friend. How can I not be incredibly grateful?
Except I wish I could tell him in person. Not his shadow. Not his energy. Not his soul. Him. All 6’5” and shins of him. 💕 Words are only of this realm so I choose to sit quietly at times, without words (but often tears), and try to allow the energy of gratitude and love flow to, even if it resembles sadness.
Since we are in this realm, I will acknowledge here;
‘Fraser. Oh how I miss you my Man. I love you and I am beyond grateful for you and for our time together. Thank you. For it All’.
And with that I will also thank those of you who are here with me, with us, as we journey forward together. I am so grateful for you.
Much love,
Brooke
Still with you Brooke, still with you.