Sunday

 It's hard doing this every day. It's hard looking at his side of the bed and remembering he won't be occupying it again. It's hard to try and go about my life, to keep myself busy...and have things stare me in the face that remind me of my loss. What I'm missing. It's an ache that is hard to describe. I could easily loose myself in my tears. Spend my whole day crying and still not feel like I'm done. This new life is hard. 

At church, someone gave a talk. This person had also lost her husband. She spoke of the abyss I have felt. The one that I feel trying to pull me in. She talked about how she felt like she did fall in. That she gave up on this life. She said what no one likes to hear a greaving person say- that the prospect of living a long life without your spouse is depressing. As I listened to her I realized that before my own experience, I wouldn't have understood what she was talking about. I was lucky. I had known loss, and sadness, but nothing on this scale at all. Nothing even comparable. And as my heart broke for her, and what she was talking about I realized that she was probably reaching more in the congregation than I knew. There are so many who have felt that abyss in their own lives. Who have or are currently fighting to stay out of it or maybe are stuck at the bottom, as she spoke about. I felt, again, how important it is to talk about grief. We need to normalize it, so we can best know how to help each other. She spoke about how she climbed out of her pit, how it was a slow process but that honestly people and their comments helped. We need more stories like this. We need to know that others have been where we are. That although we feel alone, or lost, or just plain worried about the future...we are not in it alone. Grief is hard enough. We don't need to make ourselves feel isolated. I know it's hard to hear that someone is so sad. To know they are suffering and struggling to get through each day. That thinking about the future...any future...without their lost loved one is hard. So very hard. It's normal to think about how much time you could have left. To think "I could have x number of years on this Earth. X number more years before I see them again. That sucks." Every single widow I have talked to or read about has had this thought. You are counting down the time until you can be with them again. I know that's hard to hear when you love the person who is suffering. But, do you know what you can do to help? What has helped me, and I've seen help others? It's not to try and correct their thinking, or to tell them their loved one wouldn't want them to think like that. It's to give them something to look forward to. Like, going to lunch. Or, going to a movie. Just something to put on the calendar that is something good. Enough good things will eventually lead up to not thinking about how much time you have left, but thinking about the next thing you get to do. Everyone grieves differently, but just because it's been 3 months or 3 years doesn't mean the pain is gone. It's just not talked about or acknowledged as much. Someone who has lost someone 3 years ago needs happy things on their calendar as much as someone who lost their person 3 days ago. 

I'm glad that I have been able to share my feelings. It has helped me to be able to share what I'm going through. I cannot do this alone. I have had some wonderful friends who have been there for me, on my darkest days since losing my husband. Some friends who have cried with me and let me just vent my emotions. Being able to share and talk about what I'm going through has helped me in more ways than I can count. So thank you, internet, for letting me share what this is like. 

Grief sucks. It's a part of our lives, but it sucks. But at least, if we know what to expect or know what helps then maybe it won't need to be quite as bad for the next person. Maybe the next person who sees the abyss open in front of them will not be surprised by its appearance and because they can anticipate it they'll better know how to help avoid falling in. Or if they do fall in, they'll know that it doesn't mean they can't climb back out.