Grieving is a journey not an event

Elegant for our annual New Year's Eve celebration,

December 2000

I savor memories. It is my right. Today is Martijn's 56th and a quarter birthday. It is now almost three months since I last held him in my arms. Three months since his smile lit me into hopefulness even as he lay dying. What is three months? I can tell you time during grief becomes meaningless. Days turn to nighttime and night to day leaving little but a tick on some calendar. I remember vividly the seconds even leading up to Martijn's death; I can draw mentally his expressions, his hidden pain, his constant optimism even on the day of his death. I can feel his bony shoulders still warm under my fingers, and taste his lips, still sweet even as his body became consumed by the relentless tumors. I ache for this man this heart of my heart. My intellect perceives that he is gone but like a severed limb my soul FEELS his presence, yearns for the reality of his touch, his voice, his laughter, his LIGHT. My world is surreal and somehow darker. There are glimpses of light, mind you. I often feel Martijn's spirit working to lift mine. I hear his voice reminding me to take care, to eat right, to take my vitamins, to exercise, to sleep. Sometimes I do.

Martijn's funeral in Maastricht was perfect - he would have loved it. The day was lovely, sunny, not too warm or too cold. The St. Jan's Kerk on the major square of Maastricht was packed full. Herman Rouw and Pia Brand performed live music worthy of a band of angels. There were over 200 people in attendance and this was during the height of Europe's summer holidays. There would have been standing room only if not for this fact. Father Mattie was perfect in his role of spiritual facilitator - a Franciscan monk speaking Hebrew and allowing for the eclecticism of the service that featured Jewish, native American, zen and Catholic traditions. There were elegant testimonials, many of which have been reprinted here in this blog in previous entires, from Martijn and my oldest and dearest friends, as well as from his brother Janus and myself. The burial itself was flawless.

Weeks later I journeyed to Minneapolis, where Martijn and I lived for ten wonderful years. There, the lakeside service was equally perfect. Held on a full moon evening, not even the customary Minnesota mosquitoes dared to ruin the atmosphere. David Fey and Michael Putman performed the music this time, and David, Suzanne Kochevar and Maureen Youngstrom read selections from the Maastricht ceremony. Afterwards, we lit floating candles which were sent like beacons of love out onto Lake Minnetonka, out from Sandy Beach where Martijn and I spent many, many happy hours. The candles drifted out to the lake like fireflies upon the water; others lit candles and held them aloft; our dear John and Sally Cuningham stood on the pier proclaiming proudly when the full moon finally broke over the trees that line the shore. And then, wonder of wonders, Sally pointed to the fireworks that seemingly miraculously appeared on the horizon at the far end of the lake across from Cottagewood.

Weeks later the third and final ceremony took place in the galleries of dear friends, Ruth and Rick Snyderman in Olde City, Philadelphia. That night Hurricane Ike threatened the entire east coast, yet 40 sturdy souls weathered the storm. Nancy Carolan, this time, performed one of the songs, Allan and Sara Crimm, David Meyers, Bob Ingram, Barbara Craig, Kate Tasch and Alison Tasch recreated the readings. Martijn would have loved the storm. He loved nature and admired its ferocity. I remember the first time he ventured out into a real Minnesota blizzard. I warned him not to go walking on the frozen Lake Minnetonka but off he went, a later-day explorer. He made such treks a habit, reveling in the elements.

I returned to Maastricht, flying in on the notorious anniversary of September 11th. It was not easy coming into Amsterdam's Schiphol airport and finding myself alone for over an hour. Martijn would always be there - hours before the flight would be scheduled to arrive, usually with mother and Marcel. Always a warm greeting a reunion. REUNION. A reuniting of two souls destined to be together, as our Kabbalah wedding vow says:

From every human being there rises a light that reaches straight to heaven and when TWO SOULS who are DESTINED to be TOGETHER find each other, their strings of light flow together and a single brighter light goes forth from their united being.

My life has been torn asunder. My string of light struggles to shine with the "Usness" that Martijn believed would continue after he no longer physically was here shining together with me. I have had to weather additional storms alone. My immigration status here in the Netherlands is threatened due to some bureaucratic bungling; the life insurance policy that should have been readily available to me is being held hostage while the faceless monsters who 'regulate' it conduct a criminal investigation to assure themselves that Martijn is truly dead; one of my clients, who owed a final payment for work performed held back for weeks my last invoice; like the rest of world, my hard won savings for retirement dwindled as the greed of more faceless vultures impacted my modest and conservative investments for the future.

Martijn died and my world fell apart.

He who was always there with a joke and a gentleness to assuage even the most critical time is now a spirit whose presence I must allow myself to feel. Grieving, dear friends, is journey not an event. I take one step forward and two back. I sense a future that my beloved wanted for me, for our ethereal "Usness"  but at times all I feel are hot tears that well up unbidden in my eyes and run like streams toward some unknown soul ocean. I will be strong. I will have faith. I am grateful to you, my many angels on earth who lift me, but please don't expect me to move through this loss any faster than I can and than Martijn deserves. Such a love as our is such a loss as time and space must heal. I do not cherish this pain for anything more than an acknowledgment of  how great my joy was when Martijn walked among us.