Limblessness

Feb. 18^th 

To lose someone very close to you is like losing a limb. As your lives become more intertwined, you expect them ever to be in your life. The phone calls, the visits, the shared new experiences, the e-mails, the exchanges on social media—why would these ever stop? Your “normal” is that you proceed through life on the assumption that the loved person will always be available when you are in a crisis or in need of advice or just in the midst of a thought you know only they will appreciate. You become as dependent on their love and support as you would one of your own limbs.

So what happens when you lose that limb? As Chris says, you can’t go back to the old normal, that’s gone. You just have to proceed with a new normal.

So we are all amputees now. We go on, as actual amputees do. We must adapt, somehow. But we must expect, too, the phantom twinges, the messages to our brains telling us that despite all evidence, our missing limb is still there. Because the impact of its loss is too much for the brain to absorb.

The other day the phone rang and even though the phone number was quite different from K.B.’s I convinced myself it was her number, and that she was calling me. It was only a moment or two before I was able to process what the phone number really was and realize the falsity of that thought. But in that second or two I was in that happy place where a phone call from K.B. was a real possibility and I was able to feel whole again.