Tears
People ask me if I still cry…
I wake up in the morning with only your picture next to me…
And I cry.
As I get dressed, I think of how you would come in each morning to tell me it was time for you to go as you kissed me…
And I cry.
At work, people make comments about my grief and pain; I smile at them and try to remember that they have no idea what they are saying…
And I cry.
I come home to an empty house and spend the evening alone…
And I cry.
I put on your t-shirt and crawl into our big bed… alone… no one to hold me; no one to kiss me…
And I cry.
So when people ask me if I still cry, I say –
Not all the time…
but sometimes… I still cry
~ Linda, January 18, 2014
Some people will ask… others just assume one way or the other. Either way is okay, but trust me… 2.5 years later – I still cry. Up until a few weeks ago, it was everyday; a few times a day. Unless you have been here and walked this path, I’m not sure if this will make any sense. However, if you are on this path, maybe this will sound familiar.
When Bruce first died, people told me that time would help heal my grief… I’ve learned that is a little bit misleading. Here’s what I mean…
The term “heal” can be misleading because it can mean something different to each person. I thought it meant, I wouldn’t be sad or hurt anymore. I thought it meant that after “some” time, I would go back to being “me” again. But that isn’t how grief has worked out at all.
Experiences change you… Grief changes you… I soon realized that I would NEVER be the “me” I had been before Bruce died.
In the beginning, the pain was so deep and the shock so intense, I felt as if I couldn’t even breathe. Trying to make sense of it all was impossible. I couldn’t understand “why” – Why Bruce? Why us? Why now? Why him and not me? Why was I still here… all alone? None of it made sense.
To say I felt like I was drowning in my own grief would not be an understatement.
As the shock wore off, reality set in and the pain changed as well. I’m not really sure how to describe it… It was still there… it was still deep. Like a wound that never quite heals; always needing care and a fresh bandage.
After a while, it just becomes a part of your life… a part of who you are. That was my grief – It became a part of my everyday life. I thought I was handling it better publicly, although privately not much changed. The pain and sadness were still there.
I started this blog to try to explain some of these emotions… The idea of the emotional chaos that comes with grief. The concept of trying (with every fiber in your being) to just be normal… but knowing you will never be “normal” again.
I wanted people understand that a loss this intense changes you in ways that shake you to the core… That is what is normal… That is what I have been trying to navigate each day – one moment at a time.
In these 2.5 years, I have found myself questioning everything about my life… my faith, my God, other people… even my very existence. Before I trusted everyone… I believed in God’s goodness and always saw the best in other people. But as time passed, the trust that used to be second nature to me seemed to be replaced by feelings of distrust and abandonment.
But, thankfully, that’s not the end of the story…
A few weeks ago, while on a retreat, I had a shift… a shift in my grief and a huge shift in attitude. In those quiet, peace-filled days, I came to realize that Bruce’s death was not some divine punishment. God does not hate me… God and Bruce have not abandoned me. As much as I might not like it, the simple truth is – Bruce had fulfilled his purpose.
He left a beautiful legacy behind by blessing so many lives, especially mine… And that is the other half of the story – my life isn’t over. I need to pick up the baton and keep running… There is a reason Bruce came into my life, and there is a reason I am still here.
I know I will still have sad days… days where I miss Bruce and will still cry. (I had a couple this week.) But it was different this time… I was sad, and I cried, but the feelings of distrust and abandonment were not there… I knew I wasn’t alone. I was just sad – plain and simple.
As I write this, I don’t know what the future will hold. I only know I have to be willing and open to whatever it is… And I find that I am actually excited about whatever is next.
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You hit on an important point this week. For me, grief is an injury that you recover from but are never quite the same. There is a little more scar tissue, maybe some healed bones but we are not “as good as new”. We adapt, we overcome and we move on. In the end we are a sum total of our experiences, good, great, bad and everything in between.