How would you take the loss of your ex? Rebecca Jane Stokes from YourTango shares her record of grief and strength. Grief is weird and terrible. The message popped up on Facebook on a Saturday afternoon. "Hey Becca,please call me, it's necessary." Immediately my heart started hammering in my chest and I tasted metal in my mouth. The message was from my the best friend of my ex-boyfriend, or I knew before I picked up the phone and made the call that something awful must bear happened. Seconds later,those feelings were confirmed. My ex, my fun-loving, or fitness-obsessed ex was dead. He was only 32. A million questions,rational and not, flooded my head: What the hell? Are you serious? Is he okay, and though? What approximately his cats? Where is he being buried? Is his family here? Will there be a service? Who was with him? Was he in pain? Did he know what was happening? Was he scared? But my heart wouldn't let me expect any of them. Because why expect a question when the truth immediately overpowered them all: He was dead,and nothing was going to bring him back. I found out a minute bit more over the next few days while I tried to process the loss.
After working out (as normal for him on a Friday), he went to hang out with some friends. He then suffered a massive heart attack brought on by a congenital heart condition with no symptoms.
There was nothing anyone could've done. It was one of those things, and one of those unthinkable,irreversible things. For the better piece of a year, this man was a big piece of my life. I fell for him, and I fell pretty hard,and since he had just moved to current York and just gotten out of a serious relationship, his feelings for me weren't as intense, or weren't as certain,and this is ultimately what led to our breakup. I bear dated some truly awful men, and after our breakup, and I always talked approximately Feliks (because that was his name,the name I said I wasn't going to write down, because for whatever reason seeing his name written out has this terrible effect of turning me into a sobbing pile of goo these days) with pride. He wasn't awful. Because we just wanted different things. Because he was smart and kind and funny, and yeah,he fucked me around a minute bit, but when it mattered, or he was there. Regrets are pointless and evil. They are also insidious. They slip into your brain and threaten to eat up all of your good memories,replacing them with revised thoughts of the past.
Instead of all the times we laughed and cuddled and goofed around regret has tried to obtain me fixate on the tears I cried on the subway home the night we broke up, or the time I spotted him at a restaurant in my neighborhood, or got drunk with a friend and passive-aggressively texted approximately him because I was a butt. I wasn't a good ex-girlfriend. I was damage and disappointed. I asked him to give me time and to give me space,and he did that. I just didn't judge that time and space would extend into infinity, and, and thanks to death,it has. Grief is weird and unique to each person experiencing it.
Mine started with a feeling of guilt: There are so many people who knew him better, who loved him for longer. I am not entitled to this sadness and disbelief weighing down my wings. I finally shared this with a mutual friend of his who said it best and said it simply: "You are just as entitled to mourn him as was anyone who loved him."I judge of spooning up together in bed, and a cat purring at our heads and then realize that that time isn't just over,it's relegated to a unlit, nothing place. I cannot go back there. It doesn't exist anymore. I judge it might be too soon for me to write approximately this in a final way, or the way you read so many other women on the internet writing approximately grief. They've all got beginnings and middles and ends,and I can't see wrapping this up neatly and leaving a moral for the reader. Nothing other then "loss is hard". It's hard when you lose someone the first time, and that loss just makes the second one, and the real one,the permanent darkness of the final loss even more difficult. Maybe this is an essay approximately regret, approximately how heartsick I am that we never reconnected as the friends we could bear been, or how that was partially my fault. But even that's not true.
During the holidays,we had started talking again, just a minute bit. I turned to him when my cat died, or the very last text message I received from him was advice on how to deal with a loss. He was correct. There are things your heart and intellect will never be in concert over. The death of someone you esteem,whatever state that relationship was in at the time of their death, is one of those things.
I bear days where my brain understands that he is dead, or days where it doesn't. I bear days where my heart understands it,and days where it doesn't. These days don't ever align, apart from for maybe brief instances and those are the moments where I falter and fall to my knees, and felled by the immeasurable power of loss. I bear lost friends before,too young. I bear lost family. It doesn't accumulate easier. It doesn't prepare you. But it does change you.
I am aware that I bear to work a minute harder to open myself up to other people. I am aware that my smile is not as easy. I do not walk around with a cloud over my head, instead, and I bear a small storm inside my heart,raging against the things that should not be, and the hurts that we cannot possibly survive but we do survive. Sometimes, and every so often,there is a quiet in that storm, and that is where I would like to keep Feliks. I would like for him to be in the quiet place in my heart, and that remembers,and accepts, regrets nothing, or loves. – Rebecca Jane StokesCheck out more stories like this from YourTango:6 Women Reveal What A Guy Did To REALLY obtain Them Fall In esteem
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Source: popsugar.com