My lived experience with my loss ... my story telling.

 

Today it is 13 years since Bill’s death. July 26^th, 2010 will always be a difficult day for me, our children, his brother and sisters, and those who knew and loved him. I fluctuate between “I cannot believe it has been 13 years” to “where did those 13 years go?” I exist somewhere between those feelings. Part of me feels happy and hopeful for the blessings blossoming for our children, but part of me is reminded that he is not here to share in their successes, play with his grandchildren, and for us to enjoy the next chapter of our relationship. Thirteen years later, I still find it difficult to accept this reality.

Many in my circle are uncomfortable with the depth of my loss. Therefore, I continue to privately write my story which will always include Bill. He is and will always be an important chapter in my life.

Grief is complicated, murky, and weird. Here are some of my experiences that continue to teach me about grief over these last 13 years.

You do not move on, you move through. A cookie cutter mentality about the length of time it should take to move through grief is not a thing. Other widows and widowers have shared with me, that they too have been told to just “move on.” What does that even mean? I am still not sure what others expect. To those who have sustained sudden loss, I encourage you to trust your personal lens. One thing I have learned - there is no timeline for grieving and everyone has to process grief in their own way and in their own time. Grief is a matter of the heart – your heart. Do not let others judge your grieving or tell you to snap out of it and move on. I am not an expert but, my experience is that grief lasts a lifetime.

 Anger, guilt, and regret are normal emotions. Sadness, loneliness, and a disconnected fogginess accompany a huge loss but at the same time you experience anger, guilt, and regret. Whether you are angry about your person not seeking medical attention soon enough, you did not listen to your inner voice when you started seeing the warning signs, or your person dying in a car accident caused by someone else, these are a few scenarios that your anger, guilt, or regret is directed. Guilt and regret that you did not do enough to save your loved one; that you did not physically take them to see a doctor sooner; that you had an argument right before they died and must live with the regret caused by a harsh exchange. I have had my own battle on these fronts but, with the help of therapy and time, I have learned to let things go as holding on to what I cannot change has only had a negative effect on my life and on those around me.

 Everyone grieves differently. You do not know how you will react and process grief. And, guess what… you are guaranteed to experience grief in life. Along with a deep sadness, I think I was numb for the first year or so. I felt all of the emotions mentioned above. The first two years were the most difficult for myself and my family. We all grieved differently, and in my case, separately. My family did not want to talk about their Papa but, they visited the cemetery by themselves. Personally, I believe that writing, When Sadness Meets Storytelling, gives me an opportunity to talk about him and share memories and that those things might help our healing.

 Grief “bursts” happen when least expected. About five weeks after Bill died, I had to return to work. I was still numb but, not crying all the time, so I believed that I was stronger and could go back to work, able to meet its demands. I assumed that people at work would understand that my moods could waver – NOT! This was my first awakening (which I ignored) that not all people view grief the same way. PS – I still have mini-bursts!

One such day, I did not want to be public with my tears, so I made my way to the washroom. When I felt calmer, I returned to my office and quietly closed the door. Soon after, my door was opened by someone and I was told that there was no room at the office for closed doors. A different lens – no one knows how people need to grieve.

I promptly returned to the washroom quietly crying and saying inwardly “I cannot do this. Not today.” I returned to my office thinking, “I am not closing my door to be rude or unprofessional but… actually my husband died five weeks ago.” I now realize that five weeks is not a long period of time especially after an abrupt and tragic loss like sudden death. To be fair, I lost an opportunity to share this lens with her. Afterall, she had not yet met grief this way.

Many of us replay the last weeks, days, hours, and minutes of their life over and over. I am told, and I believe my experience attests to this, that this is normal after a loss; particularly a sudden loss. For myself, I did not stay in this state too long as I believed it mentally unhealthy. The wonderful thing about time is that the initial ache eventually dulls and all of the “could have, should have, and would have” moments that keep you awake at night for weeks/months on end, eventually leave or slow in frequency.

Death and grief make others uncomfortable – time does not erase that reality. Most will glaze over, or change the subject when you attempt to share your story that helps ease the sadness. So instead, I have held onto my storytelling through writing to share my story. This lens alleviates my mood and need to cry. I choose to recognize this very important chapter in my life and second, I provide words and validation to others who live and breathe through this same lens and humbly submit, that you are okay!

Recently, I had a conversation with a kindred heart who reminded me that I do not need to apologize for my grief. Bless her heart – she is a person who sees grieving through the same lens.

Early in my years of widowhood, blogging about my feelings, someone also offered this to me. It was a special time because as I wrote and wrote, pouring out my experience, others wrote back with their experiences and we shared our grief through the same lens. We shared. We connected. We listened. We understood. I do not write on my blog as much anymore – that online presence has dissipated. Still, I continue to pass through sadness through my private written storytelling.

Today I realize that nothing I do in the present or future will change the love that I have for Bill. Making decisions like wearing my wedding ring on a chain or packing and donating his clothes and personal items does not change the love that I have for him, my husband who died. He remains in my heart forever because he lives there.

Grief has changed me. Coinciding with the inability to sleep, to be productive, to remember where I have put my phone… my entire being has changed. I am not the same person I was pre-loss. My priorities have changed. I think differently about situations. I feel differently about people in my life. I am stronger and more resilient and make concerted efforts to be independent – not a needy widow. I feel strongly about that last one. I have become acutely aware of my cursed mortality but, that has also prompted me to live life more fully. I am letting my sadness flow through my storytelling.

It is both a privilege and a joy that I get to live another day.  Bill never had that opportunity.  I never foresaw my life as it is today. Yes, there is sadness and heartache but there are also beautiful moments of joy, love, and laughter for which I am grateful.

If you are newly grieving, you probably cannot see this far out. I get it. I was there too. I promise you, that will change. If you are reading this and have lost someone near and dear to your heart, I am so very sorry for the journey you are on. Just remember my tender heart, one gentle breath at a time. Eventually, a chuckle will follow.

 Breathe my tender hearts.

PS – Thank you Sue for helping me with the sequencing of my thoughts and grammar. 

As I move forward, I must say - 13 years, the pain is still there.  I am happy with my journey, watching our children stepping successfully into their careers, three beautiful grandchildren, learning more how to be self-sufficient and making new acquaintances.  I have learned to put the pain somewhere so to enjoy these blessings.  But there is a part of my heart that remains broken; I can’t fix it.  It doesn’t matter how many years go by, being showered with these blessings, I can’t fix it.

After hearing people say I need to join the living, to move on, I simply remind myself that the purpose of my return to my memories from time to time, is not to live in sadness but to feel when I was loved and a time when I deeply loved another.