Dancing with a Limp

“You will lose someone you can’t live without, and your heart will be badly broken, and the bad news is that you never completely get over the loss of your beloved. But this is also the good news. They live forever in your broken heart that doesn’t seal back up. And you come through. It’s like having a broken leg that never heals perfectly—that still hurts when the weather gets cold, but you learn to dance with the limp.” ― Anne Lamott

I am praying I learn to dance again. Losing Chris feels like an amputation—an extension of my “self” is gone. I no longer feel like my full self, and that makes me sad. 

I am certain there are people who would criticize me for saying that I should be complete on my own. But I don’t think that is a fair way to view marriage. My heart wanted more than me. Was I enough on my own, yes. If I had not been, I don’t think Chris and I would have had a successful relationship. However, in loving Chris, I became something more. I was happier, I was more loving, I was free to be myself because I felt secure in his love. More importantly, I existed outside myself by loving him. In finding him, I was complete.

That is what makes missing him so difficult. I built my life around sharing a life together. “We” replaced “I.” Moving back to “I” and “my” feels so small and lonely. I know I am surrounded by people who love me. There are many “we’s” in my life. It’s just that Chris was the most significant “we.” Without him, life is off-kilter.

As I ran through the Garden of Gods today, the profoundness of Chris’ absence tore me open. How is it real that he isn’t with me right now? He should be running these trails, telling me how he used to do this at the academy. Shame me for my intolerance of high altitude running. But there was nothing. Just me, and the rocks. Which should have been enough, but it wasn’t. 

Traversing a place of immense beauty, I felt sorrow. I hate that part of grief. It has taken away my joy, everything feels lackluster. That is not how I want to live. It is not how Chris wants me to live. But I have a feeling it will take me a long time to feel true joy for myself because I cannot share it with him. 

I lost my best friend and my lover-- the person with whom I shared my entire self. I have to wonder if this is what people feel like when they lose a limb. How can things ever feel normal again?

I try every day to not hide from the things we shared together. I have a good craft beer in loving memory. I go for runs and think of Chris. I take comfort in the things we shared, and feel close to him in keeping those things as part of my life. But I have yet to dance again. Right now, I am not sure if I can. 

Relearning happiness is going to take time and strength. For my impatient heart, that feels like an eternity.

From my run today. So much beauty and all I wanted was to share it with my love.