Never Again
Linda, September 22, 2013
Sometimes it is hard to believe that
I will never see you here again.
I will never hear you call from the other room.
I will never see you sitting in your chair
And grab your toes as I walk by.. just to touch you.
I will never see you come through the door
And run across the room for a hug.
I will never enjoy a Sunday dinner cooked by you
Or hold your hand as we sit on the beach.
I will never hug or kiss you goodbye,
Or crawl into your arms in our bed at the end of the day.
I will never watch you pour another rum “shower shot”
Or pretend I don’t want another glass of wine as you pour it anyway.
I will never hear you call me “Hon” or “Wifey”
Or feel you behind me as you kiss my neck.
I will never dance with you in the kitchen,
Or sit with you on the porch and watch a storm roll in.
I will never do any of these things with you again.
But I will remember…
I will always remember.
This week has been a week of tears and memories. It’s been what I call a “rough week.” Perhaps it’s because life is a little slower this week, and I have less to occupy my mind. I actually looked at my calendar to see the moon phase… For years, I’ve noticed that a few days before a full moon, I get weepy, but that wasn’t it. I guess it just is what it is…part of this grief journey is realizing that there are good moments/days/ weeks and there are rough moments/days/weeks.
When Bruce first passed, I remember the feeling of being so completely lost. I think a lot of that lost feeling we experience is because of all the roles that other person played in our lives. Bruce wasn’t just my husband… he was so much more. The grief support group I attended initially had me make a list of all the roles he had filled. Mine looked like this:
My best friend Snuggler Companion
Confidant Lover Shoulder to cry on
Source of laughter Source of comfort Dinner partner
Travel buddy Cooking buddy Beach buddy
Tax man Kayaking partner Finance guy
Bill payer Litter box cleaner (gross!) House maintenance man
Mechanic Gardener My whole world
After my list, I wrote, “My greatest loss is my friend – my Bruce. The man with unconditional love. The man who was my whole world. I just don’t want to do this. It is too much to lose… too much to accept.”
That is so true even now. There are days when I think I can’t do this anymore. It has been over 2 years… How do I just move on like it’s all okay, when it’s not okay? It hurts every day and the only way to keep that at bay is to stay busy and take my mind elsewhere.
It’s funny, but when our loved ones are here, we don’t even think about all the things they add to our lives. Then, they are gone and suddenly we have to do it all and there is no one there to talk to about it.
I miss that. I miss telling Bruce about my day. I miss his laughter and the kindness in his eyes. This week, I can almost feel his presence right next to me; I can almost hear his voice. One of my grief books suggested that I close my eyes and visualize him here. I can do that. But eventually I must open my eyes and the space in front of me is empty… and I feel even more alone.
One thing I can say without any hesitation… Our culture does not prepare us to deal with loss or the grief that follows it. Until it is our own journey, we each carry around our own preconcieved idea of what it is like, how we would act, how we should feel, how to “get over it”, and various other nonsense. Yes – nonsense!
I have found that the people who have the most “advice” are those who have never been where I am. Those who have suffered loss like this, tell me what I am about to tell you…
Grief is a maddening experience. You will feel like you have lost your mind… and guess what! That is normal. While the others mean well and their hearts are in the right place, they have ABSOLUTELY NO IDEA WHAT THEY ARE SAYING. There… I said it. I put it out there. I love them and I love that they care, but to you I say, “Love them, but don’t listen to them.” Instead, it is our job to share our experience honestly so they might understand. Why? Because one day they will be here too, and they will be just as lost.
When Bruce died, I started a journal somewhere in the second week. At first it was a lot of bullet points about how I felt… things I didn’t DARE say out loud because I was sure they were “wrong.” They weren’t. How you feel isn’t wrong and this was how I felt. Now, with this blog and your comments/messages, I am learning that this is how most of us have felt or still feel on the “hard days” that continue year after year.
Today, in an effort to break down some of the myths of our society, I would like to share some of my early thoughts and feelings with you…
Bruce died on January 12, 2013. These are bits and pieces from my journal the week of January 24, 2013:
* How do I feel? I feel off-balance. I am trying to process so many emotions at a rapid pace. This is not the time I can be brave. I am human… is it okay NOT to be the “good girl” right now?… I can’t.
* I know tears help me release the pain. The tears do help when they come… but most of the time I just feel numb. Is that appropriate? Do people think I don’t care?
* I feel rushed by people to “get over it.” I feel like I need to put on a mask and pretend it’s okay so they will feel better. But I’m not sure if I care what they think.
* Grief sneaks up on you… it feels chaotic and VERY messy. Most people don’t want to hear what I have to say… or what I think or feel. They would rather talk AT me… they like to tell me what to think or feel. I don’t want to listen but I smile and nod like a “good girl.”
* Truthfully, I don’t want to go on without him… I feel completely incompetent to keep going. Should I tell someone? I don’t think I will ever feel “normal” again… sometimes I wonder if I will ever even smile again.
* This thing… this grief comes at me like the waves in the ocean. I keep being told to “experience” each moment as it comes, but I don’t want to… it’s too much. I can’t think straight. People are pushing me… they need to back off – leave me alone… my mind is mush.
* This pain is overwhelming; it is more than I can bear. It is too much – too hard. It is so intense that I have to push it down most of the time, just to survive that moment. I feel completely immobilized. Someone said to take 1 step at a time… just do the next thing and then the next thing… that sounds like something I can do… maybe. My goal? Just make it through today. I can’t think past that.
* People keep telling me that Jesus is here, but I feel completely abandoned. I think I will let someone else be religious for me for a while. I just don’t feel it… I don’t feel God. I don’t believe he is there for me anymore. I’ve always felt that God could handle my anger… I hope he can handle this, too. I know the “Sunday School” answer that God is my “source of peace.” I don’t feel any peace. Church answers feel very empty right now. I want to believe they are true… People say I need to believe they are true, but I think my issue is trust. Right now, I don’t trust God… not anymore. If being at peace means to be okay with “what is”, then I don’t think I will ever have true peace again. I don’t know if I will ever trust God again… How can I trust that he loves me? Who would do this to someone they love? Maybe it is too soon to even comprehend having peace. Maybe I am pushing myself too hard. Right now, I don’t even want to survive, so peace means nothing…
So why in the world did I share my thoughts for that week? What good could possibly come from sharing such darkness – such despair?
Well, for those going through this right now – you’re normal. Don’t panic or be scared to acknowledge what you are feeling. It’s real and it sucks! There is not an easy way around it. Take a breath; take one moment at a time, get through it and then move to the next. Lean on the rest of us and let us be your strength for a while. I am so thankful for those people who were my strength… I am eternally grateful!
Secondly… for those who have never been here… Is it possible that you may have been too quick to judge or give advice? Your heart was in the right place. We know you love and care about us. However, go back, reread and listen to the emotions behind the words – the absolute sense of darkness and loss. For just a moment, put your own ideologies aside and just FEEL what we feel. When someone is at that point of loss and despair, ideologies and “words of wisdom” mean nothing. They are incomprehensible and as empty as the hole in our hearts and our lives. So how can you help? What do we need? Just be there… listen to us, love us in spite of ourselves and hold us up when we can’t do it for ourselves. We need you, but this is one journey we have to figure out for ourselves and it may take us a while.
Finally, for all of us… we need to come to terms with the idea that this is a growth process. It is a change in our soul and lifestyle – not just a weekend retreat. It is a new reality with new challenges… and we didn’t ask for any of it. But somewhere down that road, we can find peace again. At first in small moments of time, then over time it can grow and fill our lives a little bit at a time. It will happen but only if we are patient with ourselves and each other.
This is my story but this is our community… the place where we can share our experiences. Please share yours by going to the comments and leaving a note, comment or question.
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