I remarked to a friend this week that maybe this is as good as it gets. I miss him, long for him, need him, daily. But he's not here, and will never be again. And in between the missing, longing, needing, life goes on. Good things. Happy things. Fun things. Many many not so fun things as well. Life goes on, without Henry in it.
The only way to not miss, long for, and need him is to push him away. I wrote not too long ago that I am having some positive memories of him, some fond recollections. This fortunately continues, but unfortunately is far outweighed by the sadness. I still have regular and painful flashes of the pain and suffering inflicted on him by his treatment. His death, the days leading up to it are still seared in my mind. I am not willing to push his memory away far enough so that it is no longer painful. Maybe I'm not able even if I were willing.
Maybe this is as good as it gets. It is what it is. He's gone. I can't change that. I can't change what I did, or said, or thought.
So I feel like I should be working on acceptance, but I'm such a cynic I think it's bullshit. It is what it is, whether or not I accept it. I've always had such contempt for middle class ennui; now I watch myself beginning to sip that koolaid. She didn't marry the right guy. He didn't make it in his career. She got lupus. They can't afford the house/vacations/schools they wanted. My kid died. So here we are, living in a free society, with more money and health than 99.9% of all homo sapiens who have walked the face of the earth, and we're not happy.
I don't know where to go with this. I feel I've hit a bit of a wall, psychologically. Sometimes I want to take this bull by the horns, and do something that gives me control over it....write a book, meditate for a month, run a marathon. But I think my lesson is that there is no way to control it.