Returning to my blog today is like returning to an old and faithful friend - you know, one that you haven't caught up with lately, but one you can pick up with right away, exactly where you left off, maybe years ago - and like magic you connect immediately!
I have not checked my blog for ages, but I see from the stats that there have been readers all along, clicking into different blog posts, all over the world. This amazes me, pleases me and touches me no end. I love you all. I'm returning to you too, my friends!
Looking back, my last blog post was published on February 12. I wrote another one on March 16, which I never published, for several reasons. I will though, and it's perhaps appropriate that it comes after this one, because in a way it was a turning point for me. It was about my visit to Berlin at the end of February.
After my post-Christmas blog entry, about my stay in Australia, I felt changes coming. Slowly, slowly, but definitely something was moving in me. Or maybe not moving, but resting. Or both at the same time. This is still grief. Yes, I think so, this is yet another side of grief. Moving, resting, staying still, moving again. But gradually that rollercoaster is not so violent and desperate. Not so loud. Not so overwhelming.
I noticed I was sleeping better, even in Australia - and it wasn't just the jetlag. Obviously I was spending time with my family - all of them for once - and that is always a joy and a boost, but also I seemed to be more at peace with myself and my sorrow. Peace - yes. Tranquility. Acceptance.
My turning point - well, is there one? All through my period of grief since my husband died I have believed that things will mellow, that time will heal. Change comes gradually. Because I am basically a lighthearted and positive person - and I am also human - I have experienced bouts of happiness and laughter and joy in between all the sadness, but definitely the sorrow and pain painted a thick layer on it all.
My memories of my husband, my associations with our experiences and our life together, have triggered a lot of emotions in me during the months and years after he died in April 2015. So when I went on a trip to Berlin at the end of February this year I was expecting to feel his presence again - not because we had been there together a lot, maybe only once in fact, a long time ago - but because I knew he had been there several times before we even met and that he loved this city very much.
I went to Berlin with my daughter Johanne and my two granddaughters. It poured with rain the whole time, the wind came in strong gusts through the streets, the subways and the big open squares, and our newly acquired colourful umbrellas turned inside out.
Still - our four day Berlin trip was simply fantastic. I thoroughly enjoyed it, and I felt confident and convinced that my husband would have loved it too. But this time I was on my own, with his and my daughter and granddaughters. His presence was there. And then again not there all the time.
Suddenly I felt ready to meet spring and not least the second anniversary of my husband's death - April 6. I definitely knew that it couldn't possibly be as bad as that same day in 2016, when I thought every milestone was met, every special day experienced once. And unexpectedly it all collapsed on me. I reached the bottom then, the darkest place, the pit. I realised that all those days would come around again, and it took some time to crawl out of that desperate knowledge.
And then - almost unnoticed by me - something started swirling in and out of me, like a white feather, like a soft curtain swaying in a summer breeze. My soul began to change, ever so gently, ever so slowly. Everything became lighter, brighter, easier - gradually. I was emerging. In January I was introduced at a party to a man who wanted to meet me again, but no. For me there was no emotional or physical connection, no chemistry, nothing. Probably I was not even ready then, but at least it was food for thought. Could IT happen to me again?
And then, suddenly, at the end of March, a new man appeared in my life - out of the blue. I did not expect it, I did not see it coming, I did not even want to be falling and feeling mad and reckless like a carefree teenager. Which is what I was when I first met him.
But I did fall. I'm still falling.
This man is on my wavelength, after all these years. I am fifteen going on sixty-three.
