Looking for hope

One of the biggest things that I have struggled with since Gessner's death is finding some sort to hope to cling to and to look to for the future. To be brutally honest, most days I wish that I could just be where he is. (And before you get all worried--I am not suicidal and I've talked to my therapists about this and it's normal, etc.). Being a widow and working through the grief is hard. People tell me that it will get better. That I need to have hope for the future. But I have a lot of trouble with that. My life experience is that once you get through one difficult patch, there is another difficult patch waiting for you. So I have been stubbornly resisting buying into this idea that there is something good for me waiting at the other end of this journey. My grief counselor finally got me to agree to have a hope of a hope of a hope that there might be something good for me at the end. Yeah, I'm a stubborn one.

Enter breast cancer. I want to scream, "See, I told you that this is what happens!" I'm not even through the grief journey--really I'm just starting--and something else happened. And this is something big. So once again I am faced with a mountain sized obstacle--one that I cannot ignore, even if I wanted to. I remember the first few days after I was diagnosed, all I could do was cry. And with those tears I begged Gessner to bring me him. Maybe this was the grand plan after all, and he was just readying my place for our next life together. Perhaps I would be one of those spouses who died shortly after their partners and people would say that I died from a broken heart. If I could have chosen in those early days, I would have chosen that in a heart beat.

But eventually my stubborness kicked and in and I decided that after all I had made it through, breast cancer wasn't going to be the end of me--or at least not without a fight. And so the battle began. Lisa versus Gertrude. To the death. We're still in battle and neither seems to be giving an inch right now. But I have surgeons on my side that will cut her out. So, my chances are good. But only time will tell.

Even with this renewed "fight," I struggle to be hopeful and can't picture a good outcome. There are times when I have a generalized sense that things will be alright, but I can't visualize anything specific. I can't dream about future possibilities or play out different scenarios in my mind. This is a coping technique I've often used in the past to help me get through difficult times. When Gess was really sick, for example, I would visualize a trip that we would take when he felt better or during the middle of exams in law school, I would think about the life we might have once I graduated and was a practicing attorney. Those dreams are what made it possible to sludge through the mud and make it through each new challenge.

But now, when I need as much help as I can get, I can't dream of a good future. I have been frustrated by this inability and it didn't really make any sense to me. And then it hit me like a two-by-four across the forehead. I can't dream about a future because any future that I have does not involve Gessner. When that realization hit me, it felt like an "a-ha" moment and a "duh" moment at the same time. So simple, yet so profound.

The reason that I can't dream about my future is because my everything is wrapped up in Gessner and he is gone. And if I dream about a future that does not include him, I am accepting that he is really gone. I know that he wants me to be happy and to have an amazing future, I have no doubts about that whatsoever. But at the same time, the thought of being happy without him seems not only impossible, but also unnatural. I had my chance at happiness and now he is gone.

So, I know what my hang up is, but still have no idea on how to get past it. I asked my brother to think about his life and what he wanted it to look like and then identify what was standing in the way of him getting there. My therapist turned the question back on me and I can't answer it. I can't think of what I want my life to look like right now and one of the things that is standing in the way of me visualizing this is because I can't imagine my life without Gessner. So, maybe that's a start. I don't know. I don't know how to get to a point where I can visualize something concrete to fight for. It would certainly help me on those days when I just want to bow out of this fight. But as a friend told me recently, there is no graceful way to just give up and died. Breast cancer isn't like that. So for now, my only chance is to fight. Some days the fight comes easily, others I fight because I have no other option. Hope or no hope, I must get out of bed every day, breath in and out, and put one foot in front of the other.