For weeks following Lynn’s death, I passed through each day in a fog. Her loss was so disorienting to me that I became forgetful and preoccupied. I stopped caring about many things that seemed to have become trivial. Other things became more clearly important, particularly friends and family. I couldn’t seem to be on time for anything. I cried all the time, uncontrollably. I could watch a comedy on TV and something would trigger the tears. I would hear a song on the radio and have to pull over because of my emotions. I couldn’t talk to anyone about losing Lynn because I would just become a sobbing mess. It was unnerving to have so little control. I had to talk myself into getting up each morning. Going to work each day was hard, but it was also a good thing. It kept me involved in the outside world. It made me keep track of the time of day and the day of the week.
Real life, though, became unreal to me. I found myself sitting in a grocery parking lot one afternoon watching people go about their lives, and I felt outside of that world looking in. How were all these people able to do these trivial things without recognizing my loss? I couldn’t bear to see a couple walking hand in hand, or hugging or kissing. They had no right to be happily in love when I had just lost the love of my life.
There was no feeling of purpose for me anymore. I didn’t know why I was still on this earth. I used to know who I was and what I was doing, but no more. Life had changed for me and I didn’t like it. The world just kept moving on. I have to believe that God has a purpose for me, but has chosen not to reveal it, yet. I have to believe that God needed Lynn more than I did. I have to believe that I will walk hand in hand with Lynn again for eternity. For if I don’t believe, then all this love and all this pain was all for nothing.