A person read my journal of my passage from having a soul mate to being alone suggested I should write a book of this pilgrimage. And she added a little note thinking she was late making this suggestion. This is my response.
You are late. In passing random thoughts will driving from point a to point b, I have considered writing about my journey of healing. For me those two years were a mandatory passage. I had over six years to prepare. So many nights, staring at the ceiling, listening to the oxygen generator filling her lungs with death delaying breath. I prayed for a faster end to her suffering. And then at one o’clock on that Sunday morning, my life became totally upside down. My pilgrimage became a solo trip. Every person who has been there, reacts differently, both emotionally and physically.
I have attempted to go back to read and relive the raw emotions I penned to paper during my journey. It is still too soon. The wounds are still deep and hurting. About eight months after Meredith’s passing, I met a grief counselor at an event. We briefly chatted and I quickly realized he had no clue about how to comfort a grieving person. He had no grasp of what grief really is. It appeared to me as if everything he learned about how to handle grief was garnered from watching YouTube.
I have a hundred story lines which I think would make for a good read. But my journal? I would help someone else to put it in a presentable fashion. But I won’t buy a copy. I was there and really do not want to return.