I ran 10.5 miles this morning – the longest i’ve ever run in my entire life. I did really well up until about 7 miles in when my energy was running out and I began to struggle. Help me run these last three miles, Terry I asked, as I often talk to him while I run. Seconds later an elderly gentleman that I’d already jogged past three or four times said to me Blimey! You’re doing well this morning, aren’t you? I smiled, thanked him and jogged for another three miles. I firmly believe that had Terry not intervened that man may have let me jog on by but those few kind words carried me until the end of my run.
September is not a good month for me and in a few short weeks I will be forced to have survived an entire year without my Terry. Even writing those words has reduced me to tears. I never wanted to survive a year without Terry, I have prayed for death on many a dark night so that I could be with him again (don’t worry, as I have discussed with my counselor I would not bring it about, but would welcome it if it came). I am nearing the finish line of this horrible, horrible year and could, quite frankly, use some words of encouragement. Any that you have to spare.
I have been keeping myself ridiculously busy as if constantly working, running, socialising could delay the inevitable. Perhaps there is a point of exhaustion where I would be too tired to grieve? I doubt it, for even as I lie in my bed at night exhausted the tears always find me. As the dreaded sadiversary approaches I find myself tearing up much more easily than in previous months and my grief is swelling and refuses to be ignored.
I have spent every day this month recalling each and every detail of that day in 2014 when I had Terry. I have a horrible memory and so this is difficult for me, but I just long to be with his memories. I am cherishing every remaining day that I can remember what I did with Terry one year ago for in a few short weeks time will have separated us farther still and I can’t bear to think of how long remains until I can see him again. I am terrified that I will live to the age of 100 having had to spend 71 years without him. One year is too much, seventy-one of them is cruel. A fellow widow wrote I was supposed to spend the rest of my life with you, not knowing that you would spend the rest of your life with me instead.
I may not write much in September, I may need some time to myself to grieve as I see fit. I may regain some strength in October after I have survived the one year, but I do not pretend to know what the future holds. I know that I survived my run this morning and it has helped me to believe that I can run this half marathon with Terry’s help and that will hopefully carry me through.
Thank you all for your support.