Tag Archives: crying

Learning to Dance with a Limp

What is significant about today? Nothing really. I woke up. Finished a research paper. Did some dishes. Binged on some Netflix.

I woke up in a not so great mood. Not a bad mood. Just an off mood. I felt good about finishing my paper (a whole day ahead of deadline-woot to me). I got a new dishwasher and it is fantastic. Netflix is always good because it comes with Mollie cuddles.

I woke up on this day about 3 times; each time sad. I thought about nursing school. I thought about seeing that dishwasher during the walk through on our house. I thought about other shows I’ve binged on.

Today, I woke up with a heaviness on my chest. I miss the time of nursing school (not ACTUAL nursing school, just to be clear).  The old dishwasher used to be new. I thought of Scandal.

On this day, like too many before and so many more to come, I miss Paul. It’s days like these that I literally have to tell myself to breathe. And I literally think through the process of breathing: the air breathed in and my lungs full and the action of exhale. I miss nursing school because that’s the time where Paul and I spent two years of our life. We got married during nursing school. Seems that the peak of many of mine/our friendships were during that time. We had a Friday date every week while this house was being built to visit it and check the progress. It held such promise. Promise of a great future. And so soon, that fucking dishwasher crapped out; much like Paul’s heart crapped out far too soon! And sometimes when I sit on this couch that I love but Paul never knew, I can’t help but miss making him watch Scandal with me. And how on every episode, he would say ‘if Liv cries…one more time…I’m done’. And every night, we’d watch the next and you know, she cries like every episode.

I miss him beyond belief. It’s amazing to me how I live each day and most days I’m happy but I’m always sad to some extent. And, man, days like today, when the house is quiet and I have nothing but the thoughts in my head, the memories to recall, his picture staring at me from the mantle–I have to remind myself to breathe. There was a time that at moments like these that I fought my tears and choked down how I feel. But now, I allow myself to cry and I let myself feel my heart ache. I let myself grieve. But only when I’m alone. I feel like it’s really the only appropriate time.

And somehow in the midst of my blubbering, I stumbled across this quote:

“You will lose someone you can’t live without,and your heart will be badly broken, and the bad news is that you never completely get over the loss of your beloved. But this is also the good news. They live forever in your broken heart that doesn’t seal back up. And you come through. It’s like having a broken leg that never heals perfectly—that still hurts when the weather gets cold, but you learn to dance with the limp.”

Anne Lamott

And I’ve read it about 10 times. I love it. It’s so very true. So many times people say to me “I don’t know how you survived. I couldn’t have. I would have died or I would have to be committed”. I always think to myself “What a waste if everything we shared were to have died…with him; with me”. So I trudge on. I take him with me. I speak of him often. I think of him daily; sometimes hourly; sometimes the moments consume me completely.

I love you, Paul.