Grief Happens

David at Christmas looking through a present.

How do we honor life? What happens when the person you were traveling life’s path with disappears unexpectedly? Even if you know that person’s life, your partner’s, end is coming? How do we move forward when the world has suddenly stopped?

The thing about death is that in our culture we don’t really talk about it. We don’t prepare for it and we pretend it’s not going to happen. Okay, maybe that is just me and a few thousand-other people, I admit it’s probably not an entire societal thing. My husband’s life ended abruptly and unexpectedly. My life forever altered in a few minutes.

What I can tell you is when Detective Moon came to the door, (yes that is really his name; it’s amazing the moments you end up carrying with you), I was in shock and disbelief. I remember asking over and over if they were sure. If they were SURE it was my husband. If they were SURE he was gone. I could say that this feeling only lasted a few hours, days, weeks – but it took months for me to ‘mostly’ accept that he wasn’t walking back through our door. Back into our life. That this wasn’t some horrible joke that was being played on me because really, that is what it feels like. A horrible, horrible bad joke.

I say ‘mostly’ because I am not sure if I have totally accepted it. The thing is, you can have all the proof needed sitting in front of you and denial is a great thing. Shock shuts down our systems so that we can handle what is happening to us. (I use the word “handle” very loosely here.) Yes, there is anger. There is denial! Denial! Denial! I know there are all those stages they say you go through. I have experienced most of them. I still am working with “acceptance” because I don’t want to accept. I think there must be a better word for what we do. We don’t ever ‘accept’ the fact that they are gone. We mostly learn to live with it. Every day we are learning to live with it.

 It’s an ongoing process and guess what? Even if you are close to me it’s a process I am not comfortable sharing with you because unless you have been through this experience, you can’t understand. You want to know how I know you can’t understand? You think I should be out there doing things and moving forward the way you want me to. You think that if I am doing things the way you think they should be done, then I am getting over it and moving forward. Guess what? There is NO getting over it. There is only learning to live with it and praying that the pain gets less. There is believing those others – who have been through similar situations, and  who tell you that it does get ‘better’ – that the pain does becomes ‘less’. You hold on to the hope that they are right. You long for the day you can breathe without feeling that pain where your heart used to be.

The truth is, in the beginning I thought that I could move forward with no problem. I could block out all these feelings of angst and pain. That I could simply push the whole thing deep down inside of me and pretend it didn’t happen. I promise you one thing; this DOES NOT WORK. No, you can’t simply pretend, because in the dark of night when you are trying to force your body to sleep, as that is the only escape you get, all those memories all those things come rushing back. It’s not a fast process. I am so blessed and thankful for my friends who have told me to let it happen in MY time.

You can’t rush grief. I think that bears saying again. YOU CAN’T RUSH GRIEF! I know I sort of shouted it. It’s an absolute fact. Grief happens in its own time and in its own way. We have to take the journey and grief is the conductor. My grief will not follow the same path as someone else’s. There may be similarities but we are all different and thus the way we deal with this huge void in our lives will be dealt with differently.

As I sit writing this, it’s been 8 months and 4 days since my world forever changed. (But who’s counting?)

I didn’t even acknowledge that the title ‘widow’ belonged to me for the first four months. I remember the first time I said that word out loud to someone. I think I will always remember the first person to whom I admitted that I was a widow. It was a milestone marker for me. I was acknowledging the fact that I had a new ‘title’ – one I did not ever want and wish I could give back. One that has added a new definition of who I currently am.

Here is what I have learned: there is a difference between grief and mourning. Grief takes a lot longer to work through. I find myself doing something and suddenly the wave hits and I am in tears, curling up into a tight ball and wondering if I can really go on. I force myself to get up each morning and face the day. Honestly, there have been days that not getting up seems the better solution. My son is grown and doing his own thing. I am fortunate that I have a dog. I say that because he still relies on me to get up and take care of his needs. I must make time for him. I think having something to do or someone to take care of is very, very important and helpful. It pulls you outside of yourself.

Mourning is an outward reflection of the grief we feel. The way we grieve and the length of time it takes is reflective on how close you were to the person who is no longer here.

I didn’t want to have a memorial service for my husband. I wasn’t ready. He died a week before his birthday, and our anniversary. The month was painful because everything happened in that month; his death, his birthday, our anniversary, my birthday… Yet, I was being pushed to have a service so I set the date for the following month. Not because I wanted to. I did it because I knew others needed the opportunity to mourn and move forward. I wanted to allow others to move forward even though I knew that I wasn’t ready. That it wasn’t going to happen for me. I felt it was selfish of me to not have the service, but it was also important to me to have it at a time I could handle it a little better.

While I want to rail – and blame the world, the truth is – that it’s not the world’s fault. When you grieve from a devastating loss, the world moves to a different clock than you do. Time slows down and you watch others moving forward. You watch them laugh and smile. They do things you used to do. Your desire to want to do anything is diminished if not completely gone. The things I loved to do, I no longer had any desire to do. I didn’t want to read. I didn’t want to write. I didn’t want to take pictures. I didn’t want to be around people. I wanted to mourn and grieve on my own. I felt like his death was my death.

Then one day, probably around the six-month mark, I decided that I needed to be like a phoenix and rise from the ashes. Add another couple of months and here I am attempting to do that.

There are three types of people who will be in your life: those who move away from you because they don’t want to be affected by your pain, those who think they are helping you by encouraging you and pretending like your pain no longer exists, and those who accept all of you. The latter are the rare, true friends in your life. Don’t get angry with the ones who pull away. Remember, at one point there was joy in your life and you were a different person.

Learning to live again is NOT easy. I have read a lot about grief and loss. I know that there are support groups out there. When you are READY, look around and begin to move forward. Learn to unravel your true feelings. I am still working on this. It’s a process.

How do we honor life? We learn to live again. It’s a slow, at times painful, process.