Unexpected kindness is the small things, ordinary things someone kind may do in passing, like when someone sends us a card to let us know they’re thinking of us as a lovely gesture, often without them realizing how a simple gesture can mean so much and can bring a smile – or a tear.
I’ve received some lovely cards – both physical and ecards, as well as many messages, and it is comforting and humbling to know that people hold us in their thoughts. Yes, I do realize I keep saying ‘us’, as old habits die hard. I remember reading in quite a few books, how grievers tend to speak about their lost loved one in the present tense, as though they are still here. I am guilty of this as in my heart my beloved is still here with me. I don’t know that I shall ever use the past tense for my husband.
This journey of grief is certainly not for the faint-hearted. The ripples and waves, and sometimes tsunamis of grief roll through randomly and unexpectedly 24/7. Tears splash so easily – a thought, a memory, a condolence, a photo, loneliness, even opening the fridge door and catching a glimpse of his favorite foods will set off a new stream of waterworks. The smiles aren’t as plentiful as it literally hurts my heart to smile sometimes.
The tears are a constant release of pain that ooze out through the eyes, somewhat allowing the heart a tiny bit more of breathing room – until the pool refills itself, something that stuns me, the abundance of tears that never cease to replenish.
The only comfort for me in this time is being able to talk about my husband and all the good and funny things about him. But these talks only satisfy me if they are with someone who knew him well, because they could appreciate the moments with me. And then there is music, but most days I find songs too painful to listen to so I’ll resort to mindless TV.
It’s barely been six weeks since I laid my husband to rest in the double-decker grave I bought for us, yet, the pain in my heart feels like it’s been trodden over for years.
Every new day brings with it yesterday’s sorrow within. I miss my husband terribly and I can’t help but wonder if it will ever get easier. But one thing I know for sure, I will always love him from the core of my being, and not time or anyone can take that away from me.
I’ve been humming a song in the back of my mind lately. It’s a passionate song about loving someone forever, and it’s a beautiful Italian song that I always loved, only now, it’s taken on so much more meaning. Al Di La means ‘Next Life’ or ‘Above and Beyond’, I will love you beyond the beyond. This song was made famous from the 1962 movie – Roman Adventure starring Suzanne Pleshette and Troy Donahue.
Take a listen. And if you would like a direct translation of the lyrics, you can find them here.
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