Don’t hate me for this but I’m sitting watching Top Gun Maverick for the thousandth time. Apart from the blatantly obvious, it is actually a really good movie, especially for a sequel. Perhaps for those who haven’t seen it and don’t want to know, this is your spoiler alert to either scroll ahead to paragraph two or not read on at all. For those who have seen the movie at one point in the movie Iceman, who has become as high up in the navy as you can get, is talking with Maverick, who despite a very decorated career is still only a Captain because of his wide and varying misdemeanors. Inevitably the conversation turns to Goose and Iceman tells Maverick, all those years later that it’s time to let go. And here ladies and gentlemen is the root of the root and the bud of the bud when Maverick replies with “I don’t know how”.

I don’t know about anyone else who has been in the position of losing a partner but if I had a dollar for every time I’ve said that very thing, either to myself or out loud I’d be a millionaire by now. It could even be said that grief becomes an identity because the grief of losing your partner sets you apart. There is a reason that part of the wedding vows talks about two becoming one and I have ruminated in the past about what happens when one half of that one is taken away. Are you a half now? Sometimes it feels like it. Sometimes I feel like this life that was thrust upon me is a half life and there is a very distinct danger of falling into self pity which I have commented before is a very ugly look.

I can’t say whether in the movie Iceman is making that statement with regard to the responsibility Maverick potentially felt surrounding the circumstances of Goose’s death, the guilt he felt because Goose’s son who plays a prominent part in this movie, grew up without a father or whether it’s “just” the grief of losing his best friend that he can’t let go of. Maybe it’s a combination of all three, and before you roll your eyes and tell me it’s just a movie, just indulge me for just a moment and maybe for some, for a plethora of reasons it’s a case of life imitating art.

The last couple of months or so has been one of the most difficult of my life, with the exception of the obvious of course. I realise that for the most part I am a chronic over-sharer but trust me when I say for the most part the reasons why deserve no air time here. I have never felt so lonely, abandoned, deserted and there have been things that have happened that have been absolutely soul destroying. Had it not been for the goodness of a few, my head which is still barely above the waterline, would have been very firmly underneath. In the words of Forrest Gump “That’s all I have to say about that”, because like I said above, it deserves as little airtime as possible.

However, there have also been some things that have been very eye opening. Through the unintentional wisdom of some really wonderful people I have come to realise that I just didn’t know how to live outside my grief. That it wasn’t just something I felt or lived with, it had become my identity. I don’t think it was intentionally done & I don’t even think it was a bad habit I got into. It crept up on me so slowly that until it was pointed out I would never have thought about it. It is true what people say about the fact that you never “get over” or “move on” from someone who loved and lost but for me it’s more that I don’t know how to live without grief being my most consistent companion. I’m a widow, it’s who I am.

The thing is that letting go is so much easier said than done, especially when it’s multiple things you’re letting go of. Obviously it’s letting go of the person you lost, something I don’t think technically you ever do. I will never forget Chris, or stop loving him, or wishing he was still here. I think the letting go in the case of the person themselves is letting go of the grief. There is so much more to let go of though, sometimes it can seem overwhelming.

You have to let go of what was. Those comfortable nights cuddled up on the lounge, having that one person in your life who has seen you at your best and worse and loves you anyway, that one person you want to talk to with good, bad or indifferent news, that person who’d look after you when you were sick, you even have to let go of all of those silly arguments you’d have about whose turn it was to do the dishes or pick the kids up, or do the shopping.

You also have to let go of what was to come. All those plans to travel, the places you were going to visit together, the togetherness of watching the kids grow up and become friends as well as your kids, the mixture of pain and pleasure as they leave home to follow their own dreams and plans. It’s looking ahead and knowing that your person will not be there as your kids get married, won’t be there to walk your daughter down the aisle, won’t be there for anniversaries or birthdays or Christmases, won’t be there to grow old with. But wait, there’s more!

You have to let go of parts of your identity. I was a “we”, and I loved it. I loved being a wife, I loved being Chris’ wife. Don’t get me wrong, our marriage wasn’t always a bed of roses. There were times Chris drove me absolutely nuts, and I’m certain I did the same to him. Nevertheless I loved being a couple. All of our closest friends were couples and it just worked. This week at our place for a BBQ, next time at another couple’s place to watch the Rugby Test match. I loved it! Now I’m just a “me”. It’s not “our” house now, it’s “mine”, when I go to my friends houses now the dynamic has changed, I can’t tell you exactly how, it just has. There’s an uneven number around the table, I can’t join in the good-natured banter complaining about our husbands because I don’t have one! It’s not my friends fault, I don’t even know if they feel the change, but it’s just different and sometimes I can’t even quite put my finger on why. It’s other little things too. When you go to book a holiday, it’s almost always twin-share and sometimes it costs more per person because you’re just one not two. You can’t go to a restaurant for dinner anymore, or at least it looks and feels strange to go on your own. All of these things you don’t think about when you’re a “we” and it’s the loss of that identity that you have to let go of too.

It’s letting go of some habits. For example, I’m a naturally very affectionate person. COVID was rough for me because I like to both give and receive hugs etc. While I was a married woman, I felt no hesitation in patting someone on the shoulder, or giving them a hug, or letting someone cry on my shoulder. After Chris died I was encouraged to be careful with all of those things. It was like my security blanket had been pulled out from underneath me and what was once considered completely innocent, now had different connotations as a “single woman”. It was letting go of habits that had become comfortable routine, sleeping in on a Sunday knowing my loving hubby would get up and go up to the shops to buy me a “real coffee”, knowing my distaste for instant, and more often than not bring me breakfast in bed. Letting go of making sure I had snacks in the cupboard for Friday night and Saturday afternoon footy, or money for “Friday Buy-Day” and “Saturday Big Breakfast Day”. It was letting go of the habit of listening for his Ute to pull into the driveway at around 5:30pm every day.

The truth is that, like Maverick, I just don’t know how to let go, to live outside of this grief that has become my constant companion. I think it is a matter of literally day by day, hour by hour, minute by minute and sometimes even moment by moment. I have to do it, not only for myself but for those who love me and want the best for me, and I know Chris would hate me to be living this sort of half-life without him. So, until I go to be with him, I’m going to keep chipping away at this wall that’s taken up residence. You may only see a small hole at first but trust me, I’m working on it. I know that it doesn’t mean I’m leaving Chris behind, it’s just a mind-shift that will mean I’ll take him with me in a different way.