There is nothing to do. Why go to Lev's room when he is not there? Rebecca woke up from a dream where she was hugging Lev, but she was actually hugging herself. He is not here and never will be again. There is a yearning to see him, to hear him, that goes beyond sadness, that is different from it. Crying gives relief from the sadness, but there is no relief from the yearning. It gets worse with time, not better. I suppose one day we might turn the corner, but I have no faith in that. Each day is a long, hard slog. Life has lost its meaning, I search for new directions but find none yet. Everything I counted on has been shattered, there is no constancy to lean on. I am not sure whether to continue as before, going through the motions, or instead to abandon everything and start anew. Everything needs to be reexamined, I have no tolerance for anything meaningless.
I journal to try and find some relief when it seems hopeless, and it does help me. Focusing on these terrible feelings, these frustrating longings, helps me pass through them somehow. To set them apart, to examine them with cold logic, realigns my temperament, brings it back to mere facts, where I can once again try to be mindful of the sadness and the grief.
I have largely finished with blaming myself or wishing to change things I cannot. These thoughts still come, but I am able to send them down the river (to use the vernacular of mindful meditation). But without the distraction of these useless ruminations, I find that I am more often running into that wall of grief that is too large to surmount, so daunting in its vastness and scope. I now know that it cannot be climbed, but instead we need to patiently wait for it to crumble.
In the meantime we try to keep busy, to eat, to sleep, to keep the house tidy, to dote on Jaal. We meditate, we cry. The anger comes, the resentment comes, I let it in and try to send it on its way. I cannot go up to Lev's room to see him. He is not there. There is nothing sadder in the world to me than that. With a heavy heart I start another day.
I journal to try and find some relief when it seems hopeless, and it does help me. Focusing on these terrible feelings, these frustrating longings, helps me pass through them somehow. To set them apart, to examine them with cold logic, realigns my temperament, brings it back to mere facts, where I can once again try to be mindful of the sadness and the grief.
I have largely finished with blaming myself or wishing to change things I cannot. These thoughts still come, but I am able to send them down the river (to use the vernacular of mindful meditation). But without the distraction of these useless ruminations, I find that I am more often running into that wall of grief that is too large to surmount, so daunting in its vastness and scope. I now know that it cannot be climbed, but instead we need to patiently wait for it to crumble.
In the meantime we try to keep busy, to eat, to sleep, to keep the house tidy, to dote on Jaal. We meditate, we cry. The anger comes, the resentment comes, I let it in and try to send it on its way. I cannot go up to Lev's room to see him. He is not there. There is nothing sadder in the world to me than that. With a heavy heart I start another day.
