Where does our love go now that our person is gone?
My love flows in each hug and kiss from my daughter and grandchildren. Each “Nanny, I love you” fills my heart and spills my love in bubbly, overflowing waves.
Each text that says “Good morning” from my friends, near and far, draws out my love in appreciation that they are there for me, helping me get through this.
Each call and message from my sister (also a long-time griever) and my niece lifts my heavy heart.
Every time my brother calls and gives me what for because I forgot to call, it reminds me he worries about me.
The messages from Barrie’s daughters, the pictures of his grandsons with so many traces of him—I wish we were close.
It all reminds me that I’m loved. It reminds me that I, too, love.
But my love as a wife, partner, and soulmate is bottled up. It rumbles and screams inside me. It rebels, cries, and rages. That love yearns for its partner. That love has nowhere to go.
It often pours out through my tears, through words when I write to you, through the memories that surface more frequently now. I wish I could touch you. I often reach out to you and instantly remember you aren’t there.
I want to run away from that love, from this grief. I can’t. I loved you, still do, always will.
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¿A dónde va nuestro amor ahora que nuestra persona se ha ido?
Mi amor fluye en cada abrazo y beso de mi hija y mis nietos. Cada “Nanny, te quiero” llena mi corazón y hace que mi amor se derrame en burbujeantes y desbordantes olas.
Cada mensaje que dice “Buenos días” de mis amig@s, cercan@s y lejan@s, despierta mi amor en gratitud porque están ahí para ayudarme a superar esto.
Cada llamada y mensaje de mi hermana (también una sufridora de pérdidas desde hace tiempo) y de mi sobrina levantan mi pesado corazón.
Cada vez que mi hermano llama y me regaña porque olvidé llamarlo, me recuerda que se preocupa por mí.
Los mensajes de las hijas de Barrie, las fotos de sus nietos con tantos rasgos de él… Ojalá estuviéramos más cerca.
Todo me recuerda que soy amada. Me recuerda que yo también amo.
Pero mi amor como esposa, compañera y alma gemela está embotellado. Ruge y grita dentro de mí. Se rebela, llora y se enfurece. Ese amor anhela a su pareja. Ese amor no tiene adónde ir.
A menudo se derrama a través de mis lágrimas, a través de las palabras cuando te escribo, a través de los recuerdos que ahora surgen con más frecuencia. Desearía poder tocarte. A menudo extiendo la mano hacia ti y recuerdo al instante que no estás.
Quiero huir de ese amor, de este duelo. No puedo. Te amé, aún te amo y siempre te amaré.
About Carmen Medina
Carmen is a 66-year-old widow who is living in Spain. She was born in Vancouver, B.C., Canada to Spanish parents. Since 2019 she has been living in Antequera in the south of Spain. She was married to Barrie Eggington, her soul mate and love of her life till he passed away on December 23rd, 2023, after a long battle with lung cancer.
Thanks to Hope for Widows, which she found online just a few weeks after his passing, Carmen found a group who not only understood what she was going through when few others did, but also solace in her sisters in grief, a place where she could express her feelings and find the resonance she needed.
Carmen has been an English teacher and teacher trainer for over 30 years in Europe, the Middle East and North America. She still teaches English and is the principal at the government funded language school where she is currently working. She spends her time with her daughter and grandchildren. She goes to the gym every day, loves the beach, particularly Torremolinos where she reminisces about the time she spent there with her late husband.