Grief: What a surprise, it's back

My life has been very busy lately and I have been thinking that things are going ok for the boys and I.  We are still missing Austin and talking about him but living life.  We're trying to count our blessings and focus on the positive.   Then last night, I couldn't get to sleep.  I was restless, like I haven't been in a long time.  I stayed up too late because I knew I needed to be really tired before I went to our bedroom.  I could sense that I couldn't face our bed if I wasn't exhausted.  So I stayed up watching waste of time T.V. until I could no longer keep my eyes open.  After heading to bed, I turned down the sheets and arranged the pillows so I could sort of pretend that Austin was there, hugging the pillows like I used to hug him.  That usually brings me a little comfort so I can sleep.  But last night it didn't bring me the comfort that it usually does and I just started sobbing.  It was an ugly, snot producing wail like I haven't released in a while.  When I had exhausted my grief, I didn't feel a little relief at the release like I usually feel.  I just felt overwhelmingly sad, and I prayed that Austin would find me in my dreams.  He didn't.

I woke up with puffy eyes and had to get going earlier than usual because I was off to a meeting.   I was looking forward to the day, away from the school where Austin and I spent so much time together.  My days at school are good but once in a while grief shows up. I love having memories of Austin around me at work but sometimes I need a break from my grief and being in new surroundings with new people can offer me a little grief escape once in a while.  But unfortunately today wasn't a break at all.

The day started off with us getting to know our fellow meeting members.  We had to learn about the people around us and find similarities and differences.  One example of similarities the meeting leader gave was spouses.  Off-hand comments about husbands shot to my core.  I didn't want to have to start my day discussing the fact that I'm a widow.  Luckily I didn't have to because the people I worked with already knew about Austin.  But the lump in my throat remained.  As people were introduced, one male teacher was introduced as an artist and musician, just like Austin.  He was about the same age as Austin would have been, and I just found myself missing him even more, wishing he was sitting with me in the room as he very well may have been had he not died.  Then somebody mentioned how they were artistic and loved to doodle through meetings, as Austin did at every meeting we attended.  His meeting minutes were famous for the beautiful doodlings that were done in every blank space on the page.  I still have a few that I kept that make me smile.  But by this point in my current meeting, I started to feel overwhelmed. 

Thankfully I got a bit of a break until lunch.  When I left the meeting room to take a stretch and a walk, a man walked past me me wearing the same shirt that Austin used to wear frequently to school.  Ok, it wasn't the exact same shirt because Austin's shirt is now part of the memory quilts made by womanNshadows for the boys and I.  But it was an exact replica.  I for a moment I couldn't breathe.

Grief is back to being overwhelming.  Is it because I didn't let grief control me for awhile?  Is grief like a jealous lover or a spoiled child, who demands attention when they are ignored for too long?  Did the pressure cooker of grief just reach its boiling point and spill over when there was no more room for containment?  And will it always be this way, with the only difference being the amount of time between the incidents when grief demands attention and boils over?  In the first weeks after Austin died, the time between atacks of grief was minutes, sometimes seconds.  Months after his death it would sometimes be hours before I had to gvie grief the attention it demanded.  Now, it can be days and maybe even a week or two between the wrenching, snot producing sob fests.  Perhaps the future will just bring me more time between attacks of grief.  Perhaps that's the best I can hope for.  I don't want the grief to disappear all together because then it will mean that I'm no longer missing my husband.  In my life,  I'm sure I'll always have tears and moments of sadness and smiles as I remember all the sweet moments with my husband.  But I could really use more time between the sob fests.   I need some sleep....