A friend and fellow widow says, "I lost two people that day -- my wonderful husband and friend, as well as the 'me" who I knew at that time..."
I have to agree. And I find rebirthing to be excruciating. I am consciously participating in its unfolding. That is part of the pain. The awareness. The consciousness. The involvement. It is not going easily or quietly or calmly. It is agony. Filled with bottomless voids, and oh so many memories. Memories of the past and of what could have been. But will not be. And I struggle to make new memories.
This is my own very personal journey. It is about my being on my own. It is a matter of Who Will I Be This Time? And I have to say that this latest passage, or opportunity for personal growth, or acknowledgement of what the Universe has in store for me SUCKS.
I am in the birth canal, being squeezed, crushed, suffocated. It is dark. Unknown. Am I ever going to get out? How long will this take? First time around took nine months. And from my current perspective, no wonder babies come out of the womb screaming their lungs out. Again, how long will the pain continue? Will it ever end?
Will I wake up one day and exclaim, "Ah I am! I am!"? Or more likely will I stumble along in shock and denial, and slowly, ever so slowly, embrace the concept of what has happened? Concept of what has happened?!?!? Talk about using language to create distance. Slowly embrace the reality of death. Death of Robert. Death of my husband. Death of my soul mate. Death of my best friend. Death of... me. And with this accept that it is time for me to become one. Me. Alone.
I came into this world alone once before. Seems I am repeating myself. Maybe I did not get it right the first time?