There is no set way to grieve. There's no set time limit with grieving and I wish everyone would quit telling me to let go and move on.
I've been reading several books and they all tell me the same thing.
Don't judge yourself or try to set a particular course for healing. There is no one way to grieve the death of a spouse. There is only what you think and feel and the expressing of those thoughts and feelings.
Bereavement naturally results in social discomfort. Friends and family often withdraw from mourners, leaving us isolated and unsupported. While I hope this isn't the case for you, don't be shocked if some of your friends and family pull away. They often do this in an effort to protect their own emotions.
Widows often say, "I found out who my friends really are," after the death of a spouse.
The best way for you to respond in the face of faltering friendships is to be proactive and honest. Even though you're the one who is grieving, you may need to be the one to phone your friends and keep in touch.
[I tried and failed, by sending an email with no response.]
Unknowingly, you have probably internalized many of our societys harmful myths about grief and mourning.
I need to be strong and carry on.
Tears are a sign of weakness.
I need to get over my grief.
Death is something we don't talk about.
Your grief is your grief. It's normal and necessary. Allow it to be what it is. Allow it to last as long as it lasts. Strive to be an authentic mourner - one who openly and honestly expresses what you think and feel.
For many widows, waking up in the morning is the hardest part of their day. It's as if each time you awaken you must confront anew the realization that your lifemate has died.
There are 6 needs of mourning and number 3 means the most to me right now.
Remember the spouse who died.
To heal, you need to actively remember your spouse and commemorate the life that was lived.
Never let anyone take your memories away from you in a misguided attempt to save you from your pain. It's good for you to continue to display photos, for you to talk about your partners life and death. It's good for you to hold onto objects that belonged to your spouse.
The reason for me typing this is because so many people have said so many of these things to me and I felt I should type it up so you all know that I'm not crazy for feeling this way.
Friday, July 17, 2009
Monday, July 13, 2009
This is how I feel..
This is how I feel.
Finally, someone says it better than I ever could. Excerpts from a book I'm reading. Safe Passage.
We struggled so hard to be together, and now we are apart once more. I can't imagine starting over with someone else. You were my destination.
A kaleidoscope of feeligns has ensnared me. Denial, anger, guilt, despair, acceptance. One does not end for another to begin, rather the emotions tumble about and crash together just beyond control, and without regards for my wounded, weeping heart.
I am waiting to become disentangled. I want to seperate one color from another, so that I might see more clearly what assaults me. I want to address the fullness of my tears one feeling at a time.
What ever happened to happily ever after? As it turns out, that was the cruelest part of the fairy tale.
You are my enemy; my rage is undending. I know it is unhealthy. But I can't stop wanting to find you and spend days telling you what you took away from me. I would pummel you with the truth until you wept. And then I would open up and drench you with the rest of my feelings, until you were drowning in regret. Just when you were screaming for air, I would let you go. I would watch you crawl away. If I have to live in the aftermath of what you have done, so must you.
The grief I feel for you is large and loud, and threatening to burst out of me and paint everything the colors of who we were. Know that I would do that for you, make posters and take out ads telling everyone about our love. Give me a sign beloved, and I'll do that.
I am imprisoned in a cell of loneliness. There is no way out, except for the unexpected touch of others. Their affection will guide me down the passageway to my freedom. Their encouragement will illuminate the way.
I lie awake at night, tortured by the barrage of questions that pick at my flesh like tiny birds with sharp beaks: Why me? Why now? What have I done to deserve this? What could I have done to prevent this cruel parting? Unanswerable questions. All I can do is let them flow through me, rather than pick raw my tender skin. Oh yes, here they are again, my nightly visitors.
I watch others from a distance moving effortlessly in the circle of family and I am angry that their lives still seem to be intact. I rage at the injustice of death, that anything can be undisturbed, that anyone can go on normally in the face of this event. How is it that others haven't noticed that nothing will ever be the same again? I must be the only one who understands this small, yet eternal change.
When I find myself panicking, its usually because I've let my mind wander off to the future. Where will I be next year, how will I feel in two years, how will I survive Christmas [I've often thought about just sleeping through the day] and birthdays? An endless procession of empty days, weeks, months, begin to line up before me like tombstones waiting to be inscribed with memories never made. All I can do is bring myself back to today, to tomorrow maybe, and remember that the future is unknowable and my place in it is yet unborn.
Death has seperated us, but not completely. We have not parted company forever. I am only living away from you for awhile.
The depth of my grief is a constant with the breadth of my love. I would never sacrifice one to avoid the pain of the other.
It is the small things that bring me to an incredible sorrow. I come across a photo in a drawer, and I have to step back in order to avoid being engulfed by your absense. Confronted with the problem of your clothes in the closet, I know that taking them away will not be possible without dying once more. The message is unmistakable: I must give myself good time, because the little things are not little at all.
When we are struggling through the night, falling prey to the beasts of guilt and regret, drowning in a river of tears, finally succumbing to exhaustion, we cannot be expected to believe in the beauty of the coming dawn. Somewhere in our past, we knew morning to be night's faithful follower, but for now, what understanding will have to force its way through the menacing darkness and back to us again.
Sometimes, thinking of death, feelings of panic would press into my awareness and send me shuddering into myself. But I am calmer now about dying; perhaps I will never be that afraid again. After all, I watched you go away with death and I know that you are alright. I will also go away, and I, too, will be alright.
I am fighting the temptation to plot revenge. From within my torment, a very loud voice drowns out what is left of my humanity: "Even the score!" Frantically, I argue. Retribution will not bring you back, I say. What I choose to do in your memory will be your legacy and my reason to go on. Beneath the din, another, softer voice - perhaps my old self - quietly states my position. ...In your name, I want to live to celebrate the last act of inhumanity.
There is someone inside of us who knows exactly what to do. Each of us possesses a natural wisdom that will guide us during the most difficult of times. By turning inward we will find our way through.
We know ourselves by the stories we tell. Losing you has dismantled my storyline and shaken my plot; the tale I tell about who I am and where I am going doesn't make sense anymore. I want to desperately find other words that will imagine my life anew. I just don't know where and how that story will begin.
Getting through the day is like walking through a mine field of deadly moments of recollection.Just when I have slipped beneath the surface of remembering, drawn there by the benevolent distractions of daily life, the grim new reality suddenly explodes around me, reminding me that everything is terribly, permanently different. And I must absorb the same first brutal shock, the same descending horror, over and over again. I am deceived by those instances of forgetfulness, yet I am obviously not ready to live every moment with the inalterable truth.
[That is every single day.. and it happens at the worst possible moments.. sitting at work, and all of a sudden it hits me all over again and I see Richard laying there on the table with the tubes all over him, in his mouth and.. remembering the doctor bluntly telling me that he'd been dead for hours... every day.. several times a day and it's terrible.]
Sleeping, which used to relieve the fullness of the day, has become just another difficult task. I first avoid my bed, knowing that if I stop moving, memories will sneak into my fading consciousness and force a sob into my throat. Other nights I lay awake for hours - feeling nothing, but still unable to sleep. Or I wake in the predawn darkness, hoping desperately that the clock has moved toward the morning. I was not prepared for sleep to be an enemy. What I need now is a friend, and a way to rest my weary spirit.
I am disoriented by death. I do not know where I have been or where I am going. The familiar landmarks are out of view, coldly covered by deaths icy grip. My confusion has atleast, demanded that I cease moving. Standing still will restore my sense of direction, and what remains of my inner fire will warm the way toward healing.
If only I could have spoken to hiim before he chose to end a life. It would only have taken a few minutes to tell him about us, to describe the ways we all love each other, to paint a picture of our happinness and our innocence. I would have changed his mind. He would have understood that he deserved to live. I would have looked into his eyes and made him see himself in mine, and he would have decided differently.
I was asked today how I keep going when I have lost my best friend and the person I have loved so much in this lifetime. I keep going because I have to. I have to for the people who love me, if I gave up then that would be tragic to not have only lost him but me too. He wouldn't want that. I have to pretend I'm okay. I have to put a smile on my face and whenever someone asks how I'm doing I have to say I'm fine, I'm not.. but how would you feel if everytime you asked the s ame person how they were doing and they said, terrible, horrible.. not okay, I'm not fine.. You wouldn't care to have anything to do with that person because of all the negativitiy. I don't want people to pity me, I don't want people to walk away from me because of my loss and not knowing how to deal with it. I'm not okay, but in time I think I will get used to the pain and will have found a way to keep going on with my life even though right now I don't know how to. I was told that eventually you learn how to deal with the pain. I was told that my life will never return to normal, because he was my normal.. it was a crazy normal, but it was my normal. Now that he's gone I'll have to find a new normal. A wise old lady told me that and I believe it.
Finally, someone says it better than I ever could. Excerpts from a book I'm reading. Safe Passage.
We struggled so hard to be together, and now we are apart once more. I can't imagine starting over with someone else. You were my destination.
A kaleidoscope of feeligns has ensnared me. Denial, anger, guilt, despair, acceptance. One does not end for another to begin, rather the emotions tumble about and crash together just beyond control, and without regards for my wounded, weeping heart.
I am waiting to become disentangled. I want to seperate one color from another, so that I might see more clearly what assaults me. I want to address the fullness of my tears one feeling at a time.
What ever happened to happily ever after? As it turns out, that was the cruelest part of the fairy tale.
You are my enemy; my rage is undending. I know it is unhealthy. But I can't stop wanting to find you and spend days telling you what you took away from me. I would pummel you with the truth until you wept. And then I would open up and drench you with the rest of my feelings, until you were drowning in regret. Just when you were screaming for air, I would let you go. I would watch you crawl away. If I have to live in the aftermath of what you have done, so must you.
The grief I feel for you is large and loud, and threatening to burst out of me and paint everything the colors of who we were. Know that I would do that for you, make posters and take out ads telling everyone about our love. Give me a sign beloved, and I'll do that.
I am imprisoned in a cell of loneliness. There is no way out, except for the unexpected touch of others. Their affection will guide me down the passageway to my freedom. Their encouragement will illuminate the way.
I lie awake at night, tortured by the barrage of questions that pick at my flesh like tiny birds with sharp beaks: Why me? Why now? What have I done to deserve this? What could I have done to prevent this cruel parting? Unanswerable questions. All I can do is let them flow through me, rather than pick raw my tender skin. Oh yes, here they are again, my nightly visitors.
I watch others from a distance moving effortlessly in the circle of family and I am angry that their lives still seem to be intact. I rage at the injustice of death, that anything can be undisturbed, that anyone can go on normally in the face of this event. How is it that others haven't noticed that nothing will ever be the same again? I must be the only one who understands this small, yet eternal change.
When I find myself panicking, its usually because I've let my mind wander off to the future. Where will I be next year, how will I feel in two years, how will I survive Christmas [I've often thought about just sleeping through the day] and birthdays? An endless procession of empty days, weeks, months, begin to line up before me like tombstones waiting to be inscribed with memories never made. All I can do is bring myself back to today, to tomorrow maybe, and remember that the future is unknowable and my place in it is yet unborn.
Death has seperated us, but not completely. We have not parted company forever. I am only living away from you for awhile.
The depth of my grief is a constant with the breadth of my love. I would never sacrifice one to avoid the pain of the other.
It is the small things that bring me to an incredible sorrow. I come across a photo in a drawer, and I have to step back in order to avoid being engulfed by your absense. Confronted with the problem of your clothes in the closet, I know that taking them away will not be possible without dying once more. The message is unmistakable: I must give myself good time, because the little things are not little at all.
When we are struggling through the night, falling prey to the beasts of guilt and regret, drowning in a river of tears, finally succumbing to exhaustion, we cannot be expected to believe in the beauty of the coming dawn. Somewhere in our past, we knew morning to be night's faithful follower, but for now, what understanding will have to force its way through the menacing darkness and back to us again.
Sometimes, thinking of death, feelings of panic would press into my awareness and send me shuddering into myself. But I am calmer now about dying; perhaps I will never be that afraid again. After all, I watched you go away with death and I know that you are alright. I will also go away, and I, too, will be alright.
I am fighting the temptation to plot revenge. From within my torment, a very loud voice drowns out what is left of my humanity: "Even the score!" Frantically, I argue. Retribution will not bring you back, I say. What I choose to do in your memory will be your legacy and my reason to go on. Beneath the din, another, softer voice - perhaps my old self - quietly states my position. ...In your name, I want to live to celebrate the last act of inhumanity.
There is someone inside of us who knows exactly what to do. Each of us possesses a natural wisdom that will guide us during the most difficult of times. By turning inward we will find our way through.
We know ourselves by the stories we tell. Losing you has dismantled my storyline and shaken my plot; the tale I tell about who I am and where I am going doesn't make sense anymore. I want to desperately find other words that will imagine my life anew. I just don't know where and how that story will begin.
Getting through the day is like walking through a mine field of deadly moments of recollection.Just when I have slipped beneath the surface of remembering, drawn there by the benevolent distractions of daily life, the grim new reality suddenly explodes around me, reminding me that everything is terribly, permanently different. And I must absorb the same first brutal shock, the same descending horror, over and over again. I am deceived by those instances of forgetfulness, yet I am obviously not ready to live every moment with the inalterable truth.
[That is every single day.. and it happens at the worst possible moments.. sitting at work, and all of a sudden it hits me all over again and I see Richard laying there on the table with the tubes all over him, in his mouth and.. remembering the doctor bluntly telling me that he'd been dead for hours... every day.. several times a day and it's terrible.]
Sleeping, which used to relieve the fullness of the day, has become just another difficult task. I first avoid my bed, knowing that if I stop moving, memories will sneak into my fading consciousness and force a sob into my throat. Other nights I lay awake for hours - feeling nothing, but still unable to sleep. Or I wake in the predawn darkness, hoping desperately that the clock has moved toward the morning. I was not prepared for sleep to be an enemy. What I need now is a friend, and a way to rest my weary spirit.
I am disoriented by death. I do not know where I have been or where I am going. The familiar landmarks are out of view, coldly covered by deaths icy grip. My confusion has atleast, demanded that I cease moving. Standing still will restore my sense of direction, and what remains of my inner fire will warm the way toward healing.
If only I could have spoken to hiim before he chose to end a life. It would only have taken a few minutes to tell him about us, to describe the ways we all love each other, to paint a picture of our happinness and our innocence. I would have changed his mind. He would have understood that he deserved to live. I would have looked into his eyes and made him see himself in mine, and he would have decided differently.
I was asked today how I keep going when I have lost my best friend and the person I have loved so much in this lifetime. I keep going because I have to. I have to for the people who love me, if I gave up then that would be tragic to not have only lost him but me too. He wouldn't want that. I have to pretend I'm okay. I have to put a smile on my face and whenever someone asks how I'm doing I have to say I'm fine, I'm not.. but how would you feel if everytime you asked the s ame person how they were doing and they said, terrible, horrible.. not okay, I'm not fine.. You wouldn't care to have anything to do with that person because of all the negativitiy. I don't want people to pity me, I don't want people to walk away from me because of my loss and not knowing how to deal with it. I'm not okay, but in time I think I will get used to the pain and will have found a way to keep going on with my life even though right now I don't know how to. I was told that eventually you learn how to deal with the pain. I was told that my life will never return to normal, because he was my normal.. it was a crazy normal, but it was my normal. Now that he's gone I'll have to find a new normal. A wise old lady told me that and I believe it.
Saturday, July 11, 2009
The hardest parts
The hardest parts are waking up in the morning and realizing that I have to go another day without seeing him. Another day without hearing his voice, or anything.. Just another day.
The worst part is seeing a movie being shown on TV, like today.. the new GI JOE movie was showing and I actually thought before I even realized it that Richard and I should go watch it. Then it dawned on me that Richard isn't here to watch the movie with me. It dawned on me that he'd never be able to enjoy them again. It dawned on me that we'll never get to enjoy anything together again. It's hard to not resent couples, I know I shouldn't but I do. It's hard to look at families.. enjoying each other.
We went to the balloon glow last night and just walking through all the balloons and seeing couples hand in hand and young couples with kids just broke my heart. That was supposed to be us. He was supposed to be a daddy. He was supposed to have a little boy that he had dreamed of naming Christopher.
The other day I was thinking about the day that he proposed to me. I never suspected it. It was January 7, 2005. Ironically, his mothers birthday. I don't think it was planned.. I never asked, but from what mom tells me about the day that he picked out my ring he was a nervous wreck. I don't know why, but he was worried about me saying no. Mom went with him, and he had to have the ring that day, it had to be done then. She said he was shaking and everything. Well. I was at home, so sick that when I lifted my head I had to lay it back down, I was throwing up, had the worst headache and had the body aches. He came home and he was antsy. He came up to my bed and sat down beside me and told me I had to take him to Gladewater to go get his check. I told him to have mom take him, I wasn't moving. He didn't have a truck then and his license was suspended so he couldn't drive. I wasn't driving so I had mom and dad take us. I'm telling you, I felt like pure crap. Then we pull up into Lake Gladewater. I couldn't figure out why we were there and he said, "uhh, uhh, I'm having my boss meet me here." I didn't know why we just didn't go to their house, it was closer than the lake, but whatever. So we get to the lake and he makes me get out of the car. He leads me to one of the tables and sits me down and he gets down on his knee.. I was like what the hell are you doing? He just looked at me and asked me to marry him. He was shaking, still. I couldn't beleive I ruined the moment, but afterwards it was pretty funny.
We came home and it was about 10:00 and he called everyone he could think of and told everyone we were getting married. I remember laying in bed and thinking, wow, he really does love me. He's so excited. He called people he hadn't talked to in years just to let them know he was going to be a married man.
Just random thoughts, but I feel better getting them out.
The worst part is seeing a movie being shown on TV, like today.. the new GI JOE movie was showing and I actually thought before I even realized it that Richard and I should go watch it. Then it dawned on me that Richard isn't here to watch the movie with me. It dawned on me that he'd never be able to enjoy them again. It dawned on me that we'll never get to enjoy anything together again. It's hard to not resent couples, I know I shouldn't but I do. It's hard to look at families.. enjoying each other.
We went to the balloon glow last night and just walking through all the balloons and seeing couples hand in hand and young couples with kids just broke my heart. That was supposed to be us. He was supposed to be a daddy. He was supposed to have a little boy that he had dreamed of naming Christopher.
The other day I was thinking about the day that he proposed to me. I never suspected it. It was January 7, 2005. Ironically, his mothers birthday. I don't think it was planned.. I never asked, but from what mom tells me about the day that he picked out my ring he was a nervous wreck. I don't know why, but he was worried about me saying no. Mom went with him, and he had to have the ring that day, it had to be done then. She said he was shaking and everything. Well. I was at home, so sick that when I lifted my head I had to lay it back down, I was throwing up, had the worst headache and had the body aches. He came home and he was antsy. He came up to my bed and sat down beside me and told me I had to take him to Gladewater to go get his check. I told him to have mom take him, I wasn't moving. He didn't have a truck then and his license was suspended so he couldn't drive. I wasn't driving so I had mom and dad take us. I'm telling you, I felt like pure crap. Then we pull up into Lake Gladewater. I couldn't figure out why we were there and he said, "uhh, uhh, I'm having my boss meet me here." I didn't know why we just didn't go to their house, it was closer than the lake, but whatever. So we get to the lake and he makes me get out of the car. He leads me to one of the tables and sits me down and he gets down on his knee.. I was like what the hell are you doing? He just looked at me and asked me to marry him. He was shaking, still. I couldn't beleive I ruined the moment, but afterwards it was pretty funny.
We came home and it was about 10:00 and he called everyone he could think of and told everyone we were getting married. I remember laying in bed and thinking, wow, he really does love me. He's so excited. He called people he hadn't talked to in years just to let them know he was going to be a married man.
Just random thoughts, but I feel better getting them out.
Sunday, July 5, 2009
Still incredibly angry.
As the sixth week of losing my husband is right around the corner, I still find myself so incredibly angry. Angry with myself, angry at the people he was with, angry with God. I know some of you won't understand why I'm so angry at God. I went to Church with Dad today and it was our churches homecoming. 111 years. Amazing, right? It was pure torture for me. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy the people there and the atmosphere but listening to everyones testimonies on how God is so great and how He answers every prayers, made me sick. If God had answered my prayer my husband wouldn't be 6 feet under the ground. He would still be with me and my life wouldn't feel so out of control. I don't understand how God is so great, yet he just took my husband from me at 23 years old. He stole my future from me and turned my life upside down. I'm so mad. I feel like such a hypocrite for even going to church right now feeling the way I do. Everyone says it's normal, I don't know if it is or not.
Some of you have openly expressed the fact that I should be more positive. A lot of you have. I understand you're probably tired of reading how mad, upset, or negative life is but like I said previously, my life has just been turned upside down without any notice. The one person I loved in this world more than myself was just taken from me. The person I have loved for years and helped each other through everything is suddenly gone. I know I'll see him again but just going through day to day troubles, I can't just pick up the phone and hear his voice and hear him reassuring me and telling me he loves me. I have tried, and realized he's no longer going to be on the end of the line. I feel like I no longer have any control over my life at all.. I no longer have control over my feelings. I can't sleep at night without having to take medicine to stay asleep all night, that way I don't stay awake and think of everything I could have done, should have done to still have my husband here with me. Until you lose someone this close to you, a spouse, you have no idea how it feels to have your world ripped apart and not able to do anything except try to make it day to day.
To those of you who feel this overwhelming desire to put pictures of you and my husband on your pages, you can do so.. but know that I know what type of friends you were and know that you know what type of friend you were to him. Putting a picture up of you and him will not erase the fact that you didn't help him the way you should have. I hope that it means the guilt of knowing you had a hand in leading up to his death is tearing you apart, I hope you can't sleep knowing that you could have helped him, and led him down a different path or at the least bit - tried to have helped him if you didn't succeed then that's understandable but just trying would have made losing him a little bit easier.. I have regrets that are bothering me, and feel guilty for things I had done and didn't do but atleast I have that little bit of satisfaction knowing that I did what I could to help him over the years that I did help him.
I hope that through losing him, losing this person you have so claimed to have loved will help you change your life. If it doesn't, then you really didn't love him at all, did you?
And, no, this isn't directed to anyone in particular, I'm so very sorry if you take it that way but that wasn't how it was meant to be.. and if you do take it as being directed to you then oh freaking well.
I'm a little bitter.
Some of you have openly expressed the fact that I should be more positive. A lot of you have. I understand you're probably tired of reading how mad, upset, or negative life is but like I said previously, my life has just been turned upside down without any notice. The one person I loved in this world more than myself was just taken from me. The person I have loved for years and helped each other through everything is suddenly gone. I know I'll see him again but just going through day to day troubles, I can't just pick up the phone and hear his voice and hear him reassuring me and telling me he loves me. I have tried, and realized he's no longer going to be on the end of the line. I feel like I no longer have any control over my life at all.. I no longer have control over my feelings. I can't sleep at night without having to take medicine to stay asleep all night, that way I don't stay awake and think of everything I could have done, should have done to still have my husband here with me. Until you lose someone this close to you, a spouse, you have no idea how it feels to have your world ripped apart and not able to do anything except try to make it day to day.
To those of you who feel this overwhelming desire to put pictures of you and my husband on your pages, you can do so.. but know that I know what type of friends you were and know that you know what type of friend you were to him. Putting a picture up of you and him will not erase the fact that you didn't help him the way you should have. I hope that it means the guilt of knowing you had a hand in leading up to his death is tearing you apart, I hope you can't sleep knowing that you could have helped him, and led him down a different path or at the least bit - tried to have helped him if you didn't succeed then that's understandable but just trying would have made losing him a little bit easier.. I have regrets that are bothering me, and feel guilty for things I had done and didn't do but atleast I have that little bit of satisfaction knowing that I did what I could to help him over the years that I did help him.
I hope that through losing him, losing this person you have so claimed to have loved will help you change your life. If it doesn't, then you really didn't love him at all, did you?
And, no, this isn't directed to anyone in particular, I'm so very sorry if you take it that way but that wasn't how it was meant to be.. and if you do take it as being directed to you then oh freaking well.
I'm a little bitter.
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