I don’t remember a whole lot about the beginning of this journey… Not really…
I do remember every moment of the night Bruce died. Despite the time that has passed, I relive that night over and over… Still trying to grasp the fact that it happened… It was real, and this is my life now.
However, the days, weeks and even months that followed are not so clear. In fact, they are quite blurry. I remember some things, like picking up Bruce’s ashes from the funeral home, long (crying) walks on the beach, his memorial, doing endless paperwork and going back to work for the first time.
However, conversations or day to day things are completely lost. Apparently that is not unusual. Each of us reacts to the loss of a loved one differently. Some people do what most people expect… They appear to “fall apart,” but this is what the world sees as “normal.” So, most people are not surprised by this and are willing to dive in and “help.” Others, however, don’t respond this way… Instead, they appear to be holding it together… They appear to be strong… The world is surprised by this and will usually comment about “how strong” they are and leave them to their own devices.
I definitely wasn’t like the first one. I didn’t take to my bed or hide from the world for months. (Although, there have been many times through the years I have wished I had… or could.) Instead, I immediately came home and started a list of what needed to be done – people to call, cleaning, cooking, etc. And, two weeks later, I was back at work.
People were shocked to see me there, but I knew I couldn’t sit at home by myself. The idea of that terrified me… I was afraid I would fall apart and never be able to pull it back together again. I was too scared of letting myself feel too much…
I can’t really say how productive I was at work that first year, because honestly, I can’t remember. I know I did a lot of traveling over the next few years for work… anything to avoid being home alone.
I, also, remember people saying how strong I was… But I knew better. I wasn’t strong… I was in shock, I was numb. I felt so totally and completely lost. I didn’t know what to do with myself other than work… So, I did a lot of that – either at the office or at home… Anything to avoid sitting down and facing my world without Bruce. Each day felt like the next – I was just going through the motions… And praying for something to give.
Don’t get me wrong… It wasn’t like I didn’t cry at all or grieve or feel angry… I felt all those things. I just tried to limit the times I would allow myself to go down that rabbit hole for fear of what people would say… But, grief, will have its way eventually… It won’t be ignored forever.
Over time, the wall I had tried to build got more and more holes in it. At some point in that first year, there were so many holes in my wall, I didn’t know what to do. Grief tends to come in waves, and those waves were getting closer and closer. It became harder and harder to hold on.
People began to ask what was wrong with me… After all, I had been doing so well. Some people suggested counseling, others told me to get a hold of myself, and still others couldn’t handle it and put some distance between us.
There is something about grief I wish people understood, though… It isn’t like a sore throat.
It doesn’t follow a process of hurting, getting better, and then, all done – it’s gone. So to say, “You were fine yesterday (or last week, or whenever). Now what’s wrong?” is out of touch with the reality of grief. And as the person grieving, if I buy into that mentality, I am doing all of us a disservice.
Grief is what it is… It comes and goes in waves. Those waves can vary in size as well as distance apart… All of that is out of my control. Ignoring it is not healthy. Totally giving in to it is not healthy either. Allowing others to dictate what is normal or allowed is also not helpful.
However, this is what I have found. There are no simple answers… There are no checklists to make it all better. Instead, the only thing that really is in my control, is to recognize what is happening, (look for support if it looks like a rough wave) and work my way through it the best I can. Sometimes it is not too bad, and other times it is a real struggle.
But either way, allowing myself to experience what I feel without condemnation is the best way to get through to the other side, and continue moving forward.
Each of us dealing with loss knows what a tough road this can be. I don’t think it is ever an easy one to accept. Often when the waves of grief hit us, we are as surprised as the people around us. Standing up for what we know we need can be hard, as the people around us want to tell us how to handle it… or want to “fix us.” Have you ever felt that way? Would you be willing to 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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