In the dictionary, grief is defined as “deep sorrow, especially that caused by someone’s death,” with a second definition of “trouble or annoyance.” … Speaking from experience, both are right, and both apply here. Grief is deep sorrow caused by death, and it creates a lot of trouble and annoyance.
This week, while listening to “The Dead Drink First” by Dale Maharidge on my work commute, there was a quote that caught my ear. The speaker was a WWII vet, and basically, he said that the dead are not the ones who suffer; their suffering has ended; it is those who love them… those who are left behind who truly suffer. I couldn’t agree more.
Throughout the years on this journey, I have gone through every emotion on the planet. In the beginning I was completely numb – going through the motions of life, but not able to grasp what was really happening. It’s weird… I can remember people telling me how strong I was. I wasn’t… I was numb… I was completely dead inside. I kept thinking this had to be a dream, and I just needed to get to the end and wake up. Then, everything would be okay. Then, Bruce would be right there beside me, and I would be able to snuggle up in his arms and kiss his cheek.
But that didn’t happen…
Instead, after a couple of months, the grief (“deep sorrow”) actually started to set in. I was alone… I started each day alone, and I ended each day alone. When I looked at what lay ahead, my life looked a road filled with being alone.
This led to feelings of abandonment. I remember feeling abandoned by Bruce, abandoned by God, and abandoned by the world, (who, if you remember, is thinking I am “strong” and doing okay). Which, of course, only created “annoyance.” Then, the anger started. It began deep in the pit of my stomach, and quickly flowed into every thought.
Day after day, it was always the same – wake up, work out, go to work, come home, go to bed. Life seemed bleak and pointless… I didn’t understand why I was still here, and Bruce was gone. I couldn’t figure out what my purpose was… I couldn’t seem to find hope anywhere.
Now, the world started to take notice and think something was wrong. After all, I had been doing so well. What in the world was wrong with me? Most people had no idea this was the grief, just starting to settle in. This was actually normal. This was the “deep sorrow” and the “trouble and annoyance.” And, honestly, this delayed response is more “normal” than one might think.
You see, the sudden, (aka – unexpected), loss of someone you love knocks you off your feet. I can remember feeling like the rug had been pulled out from under me, and I wasn’t sure how it happened or why. Then, once I realized what my reality was, it felt like the last pages of my book, my story, had been ripped out. It is an awful feeling, and one I struggled with for a long time, as I tried to get my bearings and find a renewed purpose.
Then, there was the guilt. I later heard someone say that it isn’t unusual for the surviving loved ones to feel guilt or blame, because these emotions offer us a sense of control in the situation. It makes us feel as if there is a chance things could have been different… Maybe it could have been prevented. This didn’t just happen. No, someone is at fault… And in my case, it was me.
After all, I was the one who was sleeping beside him when it happened. I was the one who couldn’t wake up fast enough or call 911 fast enough. I was the one who struggled trying to get him into a position so I could do CPR… And, ultimately, I was the one who failed… In his last moments, when he needed me most, I failed. He died, and I couldn’t stop it. (Honestly, I am still crying as I write this part… I think I will always feel guilt for not being able to save him.)
It didn’t matter that the Medical Examiner told me no one could have saved him. His condition required a heart transplant, so when his heart stopped, it stopped. “No one,” he emphasized over and over, “could have saved him that night.” Yet, I have struggled with this guilt for years.
It has been a slow process, but through the years, I have come to terms with my reality. I have learned to laugh and enjoy life. It’s hard to really define my purpose, but I believe, I am here to just be kind and show love to others… At least for now.
At this point, I have a lot more good days than bad… And even the bad days, don’t linger like they used to. I am better at recognizing when I need time for me and when I need to be with others. I am better at recognizing that I am responsible for how I handle my grief, and no one else.
It’s been quite the journey, and I know it’s not over. While in the beginning I couldn’t see how I would manage, now I know I can’t just quit at life because he is gone. Life keeps going, and I want to be a part of it.
All that being said, I miss him… and I think I will always miss him.
This is just a small snippet of what grief is like… It is a small piece of my experience, but everyone’s path is unique. Everyone’s grief is different… However, it is always a jumble of emotions that come and go. Most people refer to these as waves of grief… or aftershocks. Sometimes, they are just small twinges and other times they are as strong as the initial blow and will knock you off your feet. The worst part is you never know when they will hit or why. There is no real rhyme or reason. For me, I am learning that when I am tired or frustrated, I am more vulnerable to these, but that isn’t always the deciding factor. It can be a song or smell, a place or someone’s mannerisms… Any number of things that suddenly bring Bruce to my mind, and then just as quickly, I think how much I still miss him and wish he were still here…
In other words, it is complicated…
“Grief is more than missing someone; it is an unrelenting ache for reality to be different and for the impossible to come true.” ~ Anonymous
What about you? What has your grief journey been like? What has been your biggest obstacle? How do you handle those moments when the memories flood in and threaten to take over your reality? Have you found a way to balance your grief with your current life? I know there isn’t a schedule, and everyone heals in their own time, but that doesn’t make this journey any easier. I believe this is where we can help each other… By sharing our stories and experiences, we can all feel validated and supported. Please feel free to reach out and share your story or thoughts. To do so, go to the comments and leave a note. * Who knows? Your story may the answer for someone else.
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