two

Two years ago on this very evening, Bryan Lubbers slipped from the constraints of this mortal plane. I won’t go into the details of that night except to say it snowed…appropriately. I miss him every day and anniversaries like this, his birthday, our birthdays, high holidays, etc. hit harder. It just is. So instead of being somewhere warm, or visiting one of his bucket list places, I hunkered down in our home for most of the day.

Grief is interesting. I mean it’s painful as all hell, but when I step outside of it to analyze it like my mathematically-inclined husband might have, it really is quite interesting. Initially, it hits like a massive, traumatic injury. Acute. Piercing in pain. The body goes into shock. The efforts for triage are to maintain the core functions and to keep alive. Then, as time and a bit of healing occur, things start to get achy, itchy, abrasive, but one has to keep exercising and stretching physically, emotionally, spiritually. Wound care moves to physical therapy. Eventually, an emotional arthritis sets in as one continues to live. The pain flares up in the most unusual places and times. Bryan used to talk about sitting with heartache on a melancholy evening or after a “high gravity day” and sipping a little whisky, raising a glass to memories and even the pain. Maybe that was his acknowledgment of emotional arthritis.

I don’t sit alone in my grief. We are connected. I appreciate the way folks reach out to say I love you, I’m sorry, I hurt too. Bryan was an incredible human who filled a room with his spirit and his voice. His hugs were the best. His laughter my drug of choice. He did everything he could to love and protect Mary and me to the very end and after. I miss him.