Grief
I chose this song because I was blessed to get to have you in my life Connie and everywhere, I am there you will be also.
” There you will be” — Faith Hill
An Index to the Grief Page
(Click to go directly )
Grief Comes In February
Widow Hood
Three Years Later
A Letter From Lynda
Grief — How To Help
A Description of Grief By Patricia
A Wish Come True
Love Cares Us
Pain
Our Journey
Remember Me
Grief Comes in February
The following was written by one of my friend that I met in the cancer blog., Patricia. I found it so very true no matter which month Grief comes to visit you.
Early in February, Grief slipped into my house on a gray, cold, and rainy day. After three years, I have learned that she always arrives in February. I never ask her how long she will stay. I trust that she knows when it is time to leave.
I understand now that Grief is not my enemy. She is my friend. Grief is like an angel who comes when your entire world falls apart. Grief does not flinch when you scream at her. She does not turn away when you cry. She lets you be where you are. Over time, I began to understand that Grief did not cause my pain, and she cannot take it away. And, most important, I know that Grief will be with me for as long as I need her. Grief comes to sit with me on the bittersweet days when my heart remembers the Februarys of the past. On Valentine’s Day in 1994, Steve and I became engaged. Twenty- four years later, on Valentine’s Day in 2018, we had our last meal together. Three days later, Steve slipped away into a land with blue skies, sunshine, and rainbow colors. Grief sits with me in the quiet, as all the wonderful memories of the times Steve and I spent together float through my mind. So many years together that were filled with love and laughter. Memories do not require words. In the words of an old gospel hymn I heard many times as a child:
“Precious memories, unseen angels
Sent from somewhere to my soul.
How they linger, ever near me
And the sacred past unfolds…
Precious memories fill my soul…”
In a few days, or in a week or so, I will realize that Grief has quietly left. She never says “Goodbye”. We have an understanding. When February comes again, Grief will return for another visit, and I will welcome her into my home. For you see, as the years pass, Grief has become my friend who will always remember when my whole world fell apart on a dark, cold, and rainy day in February. Grief knows how much I still need her in the dreary days of February.
I know that in a few weeks, March will arrive, and the bright, sunny days of Spring will return…
Patricia Rogers Lewis – February 14, 2021
Widowhood
Widow……….I hate the word; it makes me cringe… No one has any comprehension unless they’ve lived this nightmare.
You can lose grandparents, parents, and siblings but Widowhood is more than missing a loved one’s presence. It is adjusting to an alternate life. It is growing around a permanent amputation.
Widowhood is going to bed for the thousandth time, and still, the loneliness doesn’t feel normal. The empty bed a constant reminder. The night no longer brings intimacy and comfort, but the loudness of silence and the void of connection.
Widowhood is walking around the same house you have lived in for years, but it no longer feels like home. Because “home” incorporated a person. And they’re not there. Homesickness fills your heart and the knowledge that the feeling of home will never return haunts you. The knowing that you and everything you ever knew has changed.
Widowhood is seeing all your dreams and plans you shared as a couple crumble around you. The painful process of searching for new dreams that include only you amount to climbing Mount Everest. And every small victory of creating new dreams for yourself includes a new shade of grief that their death propelled you to this path.
Widowhood is second-guessing everything you thought you knew about yourself. Your life had molded together with another’s and without them, you have to relearn all your likes, hobbies, fears, goals. The renaissance of a new person makes you proud and heartbroken simultaneously
Widowhood is being a stranger in your own life. The unnerving feeling of watching yourself from outside your body, going through the motions of what was your life, but being detached from all of it. You don’t recognize the person looking back at you in the mirror anymore. Your previous life feels but a vapor long gone, like a mist of a dream you begin to wonder if it ever really happened at all.
Widowhood is the irony of knowing if that one person was here to be your support, you would have the strength to grieve that one person. The thought twists and confuses you. If only they were here to hold you and talk to you, you’d have the tenacity to tackle this unwanted life. To tackle the arduous task of moving on without them.
Widowhood is missing the one person who could truly understand what is in your heart to share. The funny joke, the embarrassing incident, the fear compelling you or the frustration tempting you. To anyone else, you would have to explain, and that is too much effort, so you keep it to yourself. And the loneliness grows inside you.
Widowhood is struggling with identity. Who are you if not their spouse? What do you want to do if not the things you planned together? What brand do you want to buy if not the one you two shared for all those years? What is your purpose if the job of investing in your marriage is taken away? Who is my closest companion when my other half isn’t here?
Widowhood is feeling restless because you lost your home, identity, partner, lover, friend, playmate, travel companion, co-parent, security, and life. And you are drifting with an unknown destination.
Widowhood is a void of energy and memory. Questioning your intellect, realizing “widow brain” is real. It’s living in a constant state of missing the most intimate relationship. It’s unrelenting. No hand to hold. Nobody next to you. No partner to share your burden.
Widowhood is being alone in a crowd of people. Feeling sad even while you’re happy. Feeling guilty while you live. It is looking back while moving forward. It is being hungry but nothing sounding good. It is every special event turning bittersweet.
Yes. It is much more than simply missing their presence. It is becoming a new person, whether you want to or not. It is fighting every emotion mankind can feel at any given moment and yet still try to function in life, learning to walk and breathe at the same time and trying to do both while smiling when you are so very lonely, sad and empty inside.
Widowhood is frailty and darkness. Widowhood is realizing that no one unless they have had their heart ripped from them, could possibly understand and have no words to explain that you have lost half of all your life, dreams, plans, and the one person who really knew you. And loved you like no other
Three Years Later!!!!
As I approach the three-year mark which is only a few days away. On April 5th to be exact, it will be three years or 1095 days. All those days without you have been so hard. I have missed every one of the 94,608,000 seconds.
Today as I review this document and get ready to post it to the blog, it would be three years ago that Connie spent her last full day at home. And tomorrow when I send out the March updates will be three years ago that she went to the hospital for the last time. I never knew or even consider that when she went in for the surgery on April 4th, that she would not be ok. How could I have been so unprepared?
Now, how have things changed from then to now!!
Is it better now? Yes, on most days. First, I would have to say that the mask I wear to hide the pain has gotten easier. I must admit the pain is easier most day but there are days that it is as raw as that very first few hours without you. It has become easier for me to hide the fact that I am wearing this mask of happiness as most people would never guess.
Do, I cry as much? No. The tears still come, just not as often and usually when I am alone but not every day anymore. Sure, there are times I still cry because I still miss her. Those times just come out of the blue not all the time like at first. I am not sure what brought them on, but they all have to do with the thought of how much I still miss you. Luckily for me, it not every moment now.
Are somethings harder to recall? Yes, now things are becoming harder to recall. The sound of your voice while so strong those first few months is not as strong anymore. I can still play a recoding or watch one of the two vacations that I have on DVD but that is so hard to do as it makes the tears flow and the heartache become so much heavier. But with your voice fading from my memory, that is one of the things I have left to remind me of how special you still are to me.
Do I miss your smile and your laughter? Yes, but it not every day anymore. I miss your smile, your laughter and the silly things we did together. I miss the fun we had as you knew how to make our life so much fun. Whether it was our birthday songs our just pulling a joke on someone or each other. That smile and that laughter brought me so much joy that is so hard to find in my life right now. I love to find spots on the DVD where you are laughing as it still fills me with joy, just hearing your laughter. At first, I could just close my eyes and hear your laughter but now it does not seem as strong. I used to hear it so clearly. Now I have to stop and really listen to hear it.
Do I miss your touch, your smell? Yes, they have faded but I am able to cope with it better today than at first. I miss your touch, your smell, just the little things you did. I miss watching you, iron. I miss sitting out on the back porch with you, I miss our conversations. I miss our bunco nights our trivia night. We did so much together it seems that everything I do, I miss you. But it not like at first when those things were on my mind constantly. I have to concentrate now to feel your touch, your smell. I have quit playing couples bunco and that does not bother me anymore, but trivia night can still bring back memories and they are no longer painful. They are fun memories of the fun we had together. Every time we win a prize, it for you kid.
Car rides were so painful at first. While at first just being in the car without you would bring the tears. I can now sometimes get in the car and go somewhere without thinking about you. But there are those moments when I look over or I expect you to say something like be careful go this way that still hurts so much. I think having a new car that you never rode in before helps. The problem with the new car is that it beeps if I am going outside my lane or someone in my blind spot and I need that because you used to do that for me. I am adjusting but still would rather have you doing it than the automation. The long trips are the hardest because I had you to talk too. OK so I did most of the talking but it was still fun because you were always fun to be with. I have been able to do those long trips without you which was something I was never sure I would be able to do. I miss the chatter in the car. At first, I could not handle just driving around like we use to but now I will still go for a ride like we used to, just because it reminds me of the good time we had.
TV is not as hard as it was at first. Oh, how I miss watching TV with you. How you could solve all those mysteries shows we watched before I really understood what was going on. You would have made a great detective, or a mystery writer. I miss you telling the people “do not go into the basement” or just watching a comedy and laughing. It was 9 months before I could sit in the TV room and watch TV. Even now there are nights when one of our favorite shows come on, or one that I think you will like that I look over and miss you so very much. Those nights it makes it hard to sleep. But at least I can now go into the TV room to watch TV.
I can laugh again!!!. Those first few months I could not laugh or smile. I felt if I did it was a betrayal of you. But now I know it is ok and I know you would want me to laugh again to smile again to be happy again. While I am happy it is different now, it not the fullness of happiness and joy I knew being with you, but I do have moments of happiness and joy. Sometimes that also can be a problem because I want you here to experience it with me, it is ok but not as much fun as when we did it together. I think a lot of people wish you were here to still screen my jokes. At first, it was hard because I always ran them by you to make sure you thought they were funny which you only thought about 10% of them were. I now tell jokes again but Connie some of them are real duds. I miss your humor the joke you pulled on me. Time has faded those memories, but I can still remember some of them. I am just afraid that they will fade too.
Your touch is so missed, I miss just the simple things, holding hands, a hug, a good night kiss. I miss it so much. I have forgotten how good it felted. Three years is a long time without your hugs, your touch, your kisses, oh yes, I remember them but how they felt is fading.
I missed sitting at the table, having a sandwich and just talking. It was almost 18 months before I could even sit at the table and eat a sandwich but now, I can do that.
I miss your nightly routine of closing the blinds, turning on the night lights, but most of all I miss saying goodnight Puddie. At firsts, I said it every night but now there are nights I forget. No longer do I say, I am home Connie. For the first few months I said it all the time, but now only occasionally will I forget that you not here and say it.
I miss your smile. At first, it was so prevalent in my memory, Now I must find a picture or close my eye and imagine it.
We ate out a lot and always got to know the waiter or waitress. That was very hard at first but has gotten much easier. Now at someplaces I just eat at the bar and the people at the bar have gotten to know me. I still eat out way too much and while at first, I had little interaction with the wait staff, that has changed. It almost like you’re there telling me to talk to them.
I really struggled with envy at first, I would see other couples our age our older and wonder why we could not have had that more time together, why them why not us. But now it has changed, I am happy for them but most of all I am happy for the almost 50 years we knew each other.
One of the things that is still very hard is the Sunday morning mass. I cried for many weeks at the mass, now I do not cry but it is probably the hardest time of the week for me as I sit in that pew where we always sat and wish you were there. Some Sunday, I think you are. Sundays were always the same, McDonald’s after mass, picking up a newspaper and always going somewhere nice to eat on Sunday afternoon. Yes, it not as hard but of all the things it probably still the hardest day for me.
Some of the routines we had, have changed over the last three years, and some have stayed the same.
Most of all I miss you and the life you made for me. The love you had for me. It was so precious, and I will never ever forget a minute of it. You always put me first, even in your illness you worried about the toll it was taking on me. I am still in wonderment about that, here you are fighting cancer and you are more concerned about me.
I know you told me over and over all you want me to do was be happy and I am for the most part. I am as happy as I can be without you. I still write to you every day and I will as long as I can.
So how am I doing after three years, all I can say is better. But no matter how much time passes, I will still miss you Connie. I love you!!!!!
My comments are in blue.
I am sharing a letter from one of my friends I met on the cancer forum. It a letter from Lynda to her husband Tom. She wrote while waiting for a medical appointment. They were married for 49 years. It just expresses so much of what we go through in those early months of grief.
Lynda, thank you for allowing me to use this on my blog.
It was such a simple thing, and it was one of those moments you can’t prepare for. You know the ones.
I was sitting in the breast clinic, clad in the blue wrap-around gown, waiting for my mammogram surrounded by a room full of equally anxious women. It’s hard to be there even if there isn’t a problem, and there wasn’t, but being back in a hospital environment had me on edge and they were backed up and running late which didn’t help either.
Have you ever noticed that no one makes eye contact in those waiting rooms? The smell of fear lives there. One woman beside me was on the phone back to her office. She wasn’t going to make her next meeting. Another was continuously flipping back and forth, back and forth through a months-old magazine. An elderly lady fished her phone out of her purse and dialed home.
“They’re running late here. I’m sorry dear. Are you okay? I hope I won’t be long. Will you be okay until I get back? I left some lunch for you in the fridge. Do you think you can get it yourself? I’m so sorry dear.”
That’s what did it. I imagined she’d left a sick husband at home. She was the caregiver. I had been the caregiver for almost three years. I knew why she was worried. She was so kind and loving to him. Had I sounded like that? I hoped so.
I cried for them.
I cried for us.
I sat and waited for my appointment.
There was no need for me to rush home. It’s four months tomorrow.
Lynda, thank you as your letter reminds us of how hard those first few months are, especially medical appointments. The first time marking that box as a widow or knowing whatever the news good or bad, the one person we need to share it with is not there.
I am posting this article because a lot of people do not know what to say or do for someone who has lost a spouse or someone close to them. Having been in a forum for people who lost someone to cancer, we were amazed at some of the things that were said to us. While the intent was good, and we knew that the person was trying to be helpful it sometimes was not. So, I am posting this to help people help those who are grieving. I want to thank Nancy who originally provided a document, and Patricia for editing it and adding to it.
Apologizes and appreciation for the unknown person who wrote this into being with a very accurate description of grief. I wish we could give you the credit you deserve for helping others understand our needs.
I have posted this with she and her because I lost her. You can change it to he and him if you would like to copy it and give it to someone.
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The following is some way to help someone.
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Grief — How To Help
First, thank you for being my friend. You have asked me how you can help me, so I will try to tell you.
Please talk about my loved one, even though she is gone. It is more comforting to cry than pretend they never existed. I need to talk about her, and I need to do it over and over and over.
Be patient with my agitation. Nothing feels secure in my world. Get comfortable with my crying. Sadness hit me in waves and I never know when the tears may flow. Just sit with me in silence and hold my hand.
I am very sensitive to what people say to me. I accept that most people mean well, and want to help alleviate my pain. However, this can turn into “trying to fix”, and grief does not yield to a quick fix. Most importantly, please do not say platitudes to me, such as “she’s in a better place”, “At least she’s not suffering”, etc. Please understand that I want her with me as she was before she became ill, and platitudes hurt me and make me angry.
Please, do not abandon me with the excuse you do not want to upset me. You cannot catch my grief. My world is painful and when your too afraid to call, or visit me, or say anything, you isolate me at a time when I most need to be cared about. If you do not know what to say just come over give me a hug or touch my arm a say “I’m Sorry”. You can even say, “I do not know what to say but I care and want you to know that”.
Just because I look good does not mean that I feel good. Ask me how I feel if only you really have time to find out.
I am not strong. I am just numb. When you tell me, I am strong I feel you do not see me.
I will not recover. I am not sick. This is not a cold or the flu. I am grieving and that is different. My grieving may only be beginning after 6 months after my loved one’s death. Do not think that I will be over it in a year. For I am not only grieving her death, but also the loss of the person, I was when I was with her, — the life we shared, the plans we had for watching our children grow; the places we will never get to go to together, and the hopes and dreams that will never come true. My whole world has crumbled and will never be the same.
I will not always be grieving as intensely, but I will never forget her and rather than “recover”, I want to incorporate her life and love into the rest of my life. She is a part of me and always will be. Sometimes, I will remember her with joy and other times with a tear. Both are ok.
I do not have to accept this death. Yes, I have to understand that it is real and that it happened, but there are some things in life that are just not acceptable.
When you tell me what I should be doing, then I feel even more lost and alone. I feel bad enough that my loved one is dead, so please do not make it worse by telling me that I am doing this wrong.
Please do not tell me I need to find someone else or start dating again. I am not ready. And maybe I do not want to. And besides what makes you think people are replaceable? They are not. Whoever comes after will be someone different.
I do not even understand what you mean when you say, “You have got to get on with your life”. My life is going on. I have been forced to take on many new responsibilities and roles. It may not look the way you think it should. This will take time, and I will never be my old self again. So please. just love me as I am today, and know that with your love and support, the joy will slowly return to my life. But I will never forget and there will always be times that I cry.
I need to know that you care about me. I need to feel your touch, your hugs. I need you to just be with me and I need to be with you. I need to know that you believe in me and my ability to get through grief, in my own way and in my own time.
Please do not say “Call me if you need anything”. I will never call you because I have no idea what I need. Trying to figure out what you could do for me takes more energy than I have. So, in advance let me give you some ideas.
- Bring food or a movie to watch together
- Send me a card on special holidays, her birthday, and the anniversary of her death and be sure to mention her name. The tears are here, and I will love you for giving me the opportunity to shed them because someone cared enough about me to reach out on this difficult day.
- Ask me more than once to join you at a movie, lunch, or dinner. I may say “no” at first or even for a while, please do not give up on me because somewhere down the line I may be ready and if you have given up on me, I will be alone.
- Understand how difficult it is to be surrounded by couples, to walk into events alone, to go home alone, to feel out of place in the same situations where I used to feel so comfortable.
Please do not judge me now, — or think that I am behaving strangely. Remember, I am grieving. I am in shock. I am afraid. I may feel a deep rage. I may even feel guilty. But above all I hurt. I am experiencing a pain unlike any I have ever felt before and one that cannot be imagined by anyone who has not walked in my shoes.
Do not worry if you think I am getting better, and then suddenly I slip backwards. Grief makes me behave that way at times. And please do not tell me you know how I feel or that it is time to get on with my life. What I need now is time to grieve.
Most of all thank you for being my friend. Thank you for your patience. Thank you for caring. Thank you for helping with understanding. Thank you for praying for me.
Please remember in the days and years ahead after your loss — when you need me as I have needed you. I will understand and then I will come and be with you.
A Description of Grief By Patricia
I want to share the words of a lady who recently lost her husband (Steve). The way she described her grief I found so true and wanted you to understand when dealing with someone who has suffered a loss, what it may feel like to them in those early months.
A Description of Grief by Patricia
I don’t have a name anymore. The person I used to be is gone. However, my visitor has a name. Her name is Grief. She slipped into my house and doesn’t seem to be in a hurry to leave. Sometimes she sits quietly by my side, and other times she pulls great sobs out of me. She feels cruel and comforting both at the same time. How can that be?
I wish she hadn’t come. But if she leaves now, I will be all alone. My heart has been ripped out. I know that somehow, she will help me heal.
She is my constant companion. She goes with me everywhere. Sometimes she shows herself to others. Sometimes not.
She says she is my friend, but I hate her sometimes. I want her to go away – to have no need for her. But I do need her. I don’t know what to do. My Steve is gone – my heart is broken. I need Grief to help me pick up the pieces and somehow, someway put them back together again, and maybe, in the process, once again I will have a name.
Patricia
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Added June 10th, 2016
A Wish Come TrueI
If I could have a wish come true,
A dream to come to pass,
I would ask to spend a day with you
And Pray that it would last.
I run to you and hold you close,
We’d laugh and smile again,
I’d listen so intently,
As you told me how you have been.
When time was up I’d hold you close
Not wanting to let go
You’d smile and tell me, ‘See You Soon’
And somehow, I would know
That while it very hard to wait
One day the time will come
I will join you there forevermore
When I am called home
My wish may go ungranted
But it always will be true
I would trade many of my tomorrows
For one yesterday with you.
Kelly A. Polley
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Love Care Us
“Ever has it been that human love really does not know how deep it has become
until it comes time to separate.”
And then you know in a way you’ll never forget. Now is a time to cherish that love you’ve known. Now is a time to be grateful you’ve experienced it, because not everyone does. Now is a time to feel blessed for the life you shared. As you move through this time before you,
hold on to what you have learned: your love is very deep. And know that this very love will help carry you through the days ahead.
A Poem By Kahlil Gibran.
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Pain
Pain
Little By Little pain and love will find ways to co-exists. It will not feel wrong or bad to have survived. It will be simply a life of your own making. The most beautiful life it can be, given what is yours to live.
Our Journey
(Taken from a book by Megan Devine)
The Journey of Grief can seem bleak and lonely
Look in front of your there are others encouraging you and guiding you
Look beside you there are others on the same journey
Look behind you there are others encouraged by you
We are not alone on this journey.
“The Grief Toolbox”.
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Remember Me
Remember Me!!!
| REMEMBER ME To the living, I am gone. To the sorrowful, I will never return. To the angry, I was cheated. But to the happy, I am at peace. And to the faithful, I have never left. I cannot be seen, but I can be heard. So as you stand upon a shore, gazing at a beautiful sea-remember me. As you look in awe at a mighty forest and its grand majesty-remember me. As you look upon a flower and admire its simplicity-remember me. Remember me in your heart, your thoughts, your memories of the times we loved. The times we cried, the times we fought, the times we laughed. For if you always think of me I will never be gone. |