Evening thoughts

So I'm chatting with Bae via text. Lols feels so weird. He's distracting me from reading a book I'd usually finish in two hours. But I honestly don't mind because he's a whole PhD thesis unfolding in my life. The feeling of love carries a tinge of sadness for me. Don't know if I'm trying to justify my new love, but I have learned grief transmutes into other forms of energy and life. It doesn't go away. It's tough but I have surrendered to processes of life. Hoping that the grief that wraps my heart like snow on Lesotho mountains in the cold winters, melts into water that nourishes my widowed heart. Just so I can love again. And most importantly so I can live.

Early morning thoughts

Woke up with thoughts so heavy for my soul. I was reflecting on how much I shared about losing Lesley. And I noticed in the sharing of my loss I sometimes behaved like I was the only one who lost him. I even shared mostly pictures of just him and I. Truth is, some of his best captured images are with his friends and  not with me. Yet I made it so much about me. There was never a need for insecurities because there is still almost a decade of memories just for me. Probably to last me a lifetime. Maybe I thought it would fast-track the process. Mourning and grief are best left to run their course. Preferably in private away from the gaze which creates expectations from the outside world. I shared and overshared. Was it my coping mechanism? Who knows? All I know now is I'm terrified of losing his image in my mind. I'm slowly sobering up from my severe depression and it feels like I'm walking away from him. The guilt of finding joy without him. Makes me look back instead of reflecting and moving on. I don't even want to hear the phrase "move on". But who am I kidding? I love life. And I love LOVE. The dilemma is I can never have them with Les. The only love I knew. But I take consolation in the fact that there was nothing unsaid between us. My happiness was important to him. I think it still is. I know this sounds like permission to start dating. It's not. And those who know me well know that I don't need it. I just miss Les. And I can just imagine myself in my 60s telling fourth husband about what a catch my Les was. At this stage of my grief, I now know where broken hearts go. It's a path you find on your own when you lose the love of your life.