On the 15th April 2010, one year ago, I found my estranged husband dead in the house we used to share. It was a day that changed me forever.
Estranged is such an odd word. I think of stranger and of strangulation. Both of these apply. My husband and I were strangers. We lived in the same house and slept in the same bed, but for more years than I’d like to admit, we never talked about anything other than who was buying the dry food for the current cat.
When I summoned up the courage to move out in March 2010, I was escaping from the strangulation. I couldn’t breathe any more. No matter how hard I tried — to load the dishwasher the right way, to look attractive enough so he would compliment me, or to not feel lacking when my hand on his thigh in bed made him pull away beyond my reach — I couldn’t do anything right. I thought it was my fault. I thought I needed to be a better wife.
Healing from my food issues and self loathing was what started the chain of events that ended with this tragedy. I was sick of being numb. There was no love in my life. I don’t mean just romantic or physical love, there was no kind of connection with family, friends or even strangers. I had lost the ability to feel proud of someone, to sympathise with their pain, or to revel in the joy of someone else’s success. I had to wake from my sleep or … there was no or — I just had to.
So I set out to love the entire world. With small stumbling steps I smiled at people, I listened to what they said and I stopped trying to control them. At the same time, I discarded my mask of perfection and spoke the truth of who I was, flaws and all. And a miracle happened. The world became a loving place, people became my real friends and no-one cared if I was perfect or not.
Except for my husband. He never noticed the difference. I felt as though I was radiating light from my very pores and he still continued to criticise everything I did. I tried talking to him about this new way of seeing the world and he looked confused and hurt. I was wrong he said. The world was evil and people were out to take all they could. There was no good in the world and I was naive to think otherwise.
I was living with an open heart and yet I couldn’t love the person closest to me. I thought it was my fault, that I wasn’t trying hard enough, but it turned out that he just couldn’t let me love him because he was incapable of deep emotion.
It hasn’t been an easy year, but out of all the chaos I know one thing for sure. We humans are resilient creatures. While life hangs in the balance, and every day brings the possibility of death, we continue on with optimism and hope. We have life and we cling to it passionately. We have love and it fills us with reasons to keep fighting. We are more than the drudgery of existence, we are the divine expression of the universe.
No matter what happens, no matter how much the pain, it won’t defeat us. We will move beyond merely surviving to relishing every single moment. The chirping of birds after a rain shower is a source of wonder and delight.
Look with fresh eyes on the world and choose to dive in to everything that this journey has to offer. Don’t waste your finite hours on worrying about things that don’t really matter. Live. Love.
Do this for me on this day of remembering. Let’s celebrate a sad, tragic death by living in spite of everything. Say thank you, kiss your partner, call your mum, smile for no reason, listen to the birds.
I am more awake, alive and happier than I’ve ever been. Won’t you join me?