|
Hey Babe,
It’s been awhile since we last talked, I find it hard nowadays to “write” to you. Not because I don’t have anything to share with you or because somehow I’ve magically gotten over you or anything like that - if anything, I find this part of my journey even harder than the grieving part. I find myself trapped inside a ditch with no plans for a great escape. I’m just so tired and exhausted from standing on my tippy toes with my back against the wall of the ditch trying to catch the glimmer of hope that’s supposed to be waiting for me when I can one day free myself from this hell I’m trapped in. I constantly ask myself, “When will this pain ever end?!” I’m waving the white flag and wanting a truce with grief. I’m done battling. I’m done fighting. I don’t have the emotional and mental strength or fortitude to deal with this SHIT anymore. I don’t want to process or self-reflect anymore. I don’t want to find out why or what it all means anymore (like honestly, how will understanding why it happened or knowing what it all means help me anyways? Will knowing any of these things make me feel better or bring you back??) I just don’t want to be sad anymore. I don’t want to feel like I’m waking up each morning to live a life that I didn’t choose or that doesn’t make sense anymore. I don’t want to be a widow anymore. Why won’t this pain ever end. When will this pain ever end? When will I stop crying and feeling sorry for myself?! When will my heart stop aching and yearning for you? When will I become comfortable with sleeping by myself and not waking up multiple times throughout the night?? When will any moment of joy I feel or experience not be shrouded with bittersweetness of longing to share these moments with you? When will my heart feel full again? And, most importantly, why does being a widow somehow mean I’m no longer capable of making my own decisions and / or gauging my own feelings and emotions? Like I need to be told what I should or should not do or what I’m ready or not ready for or how I should feel or not feel. I’m a widow, I’m not three years old. I don’t need people to tell me what I should or should not do or what I’m ready or not ready for or what I should feel or not feel. Until you have walked in my shoes or understand the pain that resides in my heart, you have no right to tell me anything. And I’m tired of hearing how strong I am. WTF does that even mean?? What does “strong” have to do with anything? I’m strong because I choose to wake up each morning and live?? I’m strong because I can smile and laugh even though my husband died?? I’m strong because I can function and keep my shit together after suffering the trauma of my husband’s sudden, untimely, and nonsensical death?? I don’t do these things because I’m strong. I do these things because I have no other choice. I can stay trapped in the ditch forever, or I can continue to fight and claw my way to the top. As long as I’m still breathing, I will never stop fighting. I will never stop clawing my way out of this ditch (aka hell) I’m stuck in. But, once in awhile, every warrior needs a break from all the fighting and clawing. So, technically, I’m not waving the white flag and giving up. I’m just calling a timeout with grief. I just need a break from widowhood to recharge (aka read more young adult love stories with Asian-Americans as the heroine, read more widow books and blogs, eat lots of food, knit, going to plays, hanging out with family and friends, doing nothing at all), so I can garner the strength to continue fighting for my life and clawing my way out of this ditch (aka hell) I’m stuck in!! I feel like I’ve been stuck in the eye of the storm for the last 9 ½ months, and the tornado has finally started to dissipate and die off. The tornado spit me out, and somehow I survived, but now I’m left to assess the damage it caused. As I look around, everything seems familiar but nothing feels the same. I don’t know what to hold on to and what to let go of. So, I’ll be chilling in my ditch until I can figure this out!! #widowhoodstruggles #tabularasaisoverrated
0 Comments
Hi Babe,
I would be lying if I didn’t say these last couple of weeks have been very hard for me. It feels like I’ve digressed and back to the first month of mourning. I wake up sad, anxiety-ridden all day, on the verge of tears at any moment, and go to bed feeling very alone. Somehow, it’s hitting me very hard that you’re not here anymore; you died and I will never see you again, and I have to start making changes (or as you would like to call it “moves”) in my life to accommodate this new “realization.” I guess looking at your stuff in the closet everyday to try to mentally prepare myself for the “purge” that awaits is causing more pain and grief than I had expected. Now, I know why people hold on to their late spouse’s things for so long while just carrying on with life; it’s easier to live in denial of your reality and pretend your husband is on a business trip than to confront the pain and anguish of having to "face the music" and accept the ugly truth of my new reality. You know it’s bad when I’m grieving while on business travel. Usually, I look forward to the break from my life when I’m on business travel, but this time, it looks like grief has caught up to me. I guess you can only run away for so long before it all catches up to you, even in places that was once a safe haven. I feel like I’ve had a lot of triggers lately, maybe this is the grand finale before I can say, “I can do this” without faltering. I feel like you have to leave me now and embark on the next part of your spiritual journey, so you’re really testing me to make sure I can "fend for myself" in this world without you (yes, like your "fend for yourself Fridays" where nobody cooks dinner and we have to figure it out for ourselves.) You are definitely testing me real hard right now, sometimes taking me down to my knees, questioning whether I’ve made any progress on my journey through widowhood and grief. Sometimes, I hate you so much for leaving me, how can you do this to me?! How can you rip my heart and soul out and leave me like this?! Half a person living a life built for two. I just want this pain to end. I want it to go away. I don’t want to feel it anymore. I can’t submit to it anymore nor can I subject myself to it anymore either. I feel so numb to the pain that at times, I think I delude myself to believe it doesn’t hurt anymore just so I can live in denial and “carry on” with life. I can’t live our old life but I don’t know how to move on either when I can barely figure out how I’m feeling from one minute to the next. I just feel “stuck” and frustrated with myself for not being able to push myself or help myself. I am not the type of person that is bounded by fear, but nowadays, I always feel like I’m always at the boundary where fear and courage meets with one foot in both but never really able to step out and put both feet on courage so I can take that next step in this new life of mine. I hate you so much sometimes. I hate you for leaving me. I hate you for leaving me like this. I hate you so much yet I miss you so much more. I hate that I feel like this all the same time. I hate that I can’t move on. I hate that the only feelings I feel nowadays are fear and pain. How can anybody live like this?! How does anyone survive this?! It’s completely unbearable and all consuming. On the way to Taiwan, I watched a movie called “Hearts Beat Loud” about a single-father and college bound daughter who’s about "to embark on a journey of love, growing up, and musical journey." Yeah, my kind of movie, right? But what I later find out is that the single-father is actually a widower. (I probably would have passed on the movie if it made that aspect of the movie more evident!) Anyways, there’s a scene where the daughter’s love interest says, “You gotta be brave before you can be good!” I guess that’s the mantra I have to learn to live by right now (so I can get pass whatever stage of grief I’m on right now since it feels more like month 1 than 9.5), I have to be brave before I can become a good “widow.” I have to find every last ounce of strength and courage I have left inside of me to survive this experience; pull myself out of denial and accept my new reality. This is my life now. I better start embracing it or get sucked into the darkness!! Hi Babe,
I often wonder if a month will ever go by where I don’t somehow take notice of the 7th day of the month. It’s not like I’m waiting for it arrive or anticipate that it will come but somehow it never comes unnoticed. If anything, it usually comes in full force and hits me before I even realize it's the 7th day of the month. Last night, I went to a community production of Grease in Sunnyvale. The play was great, the performers were amazing, the theater was small and intimate, and the crowd was on fire. At the end, there was a fundraising announcement for a foundation that provide scholarships to girls who are focusing on STEM (science, technology, engineering, and math) education and, of course, for the theater group as well. Then the founder of the foundation (who was also an actor in the play) says the family will be matching all donations made to the foundation and the theater group, and then for a millisecond, she paused and said, “in Eric’s memory.” I wasn’t expecting to hear anything like that when I went to the play that evening, but when I did, it really did a number on me. I guess when you aren’t prepared or expecting a a trigger, it hits you like a category 5 tsunami that hits everything with full force in its way. In that millisecond pause, which was so subtle and probably not even noticeable by anyone else, and after she said, “in Eric’s memory,” I knew that pause meant we shared a similar story, a common thread, that has and will forever change our life and the way we view the world. I felt every ounce of pain she felt in her heart, and I knew the strength and courage it took for her to stand up there and honor her husband’s memory and legacy while continuing to live a life she didn’t choose or have a say in or any control over. It felt like I was looking at myself in the mirror. That tiny millisecond pause is something I notice I do also. Then the pause is usually followed by a deep breath and I break eye contact and stare off blankly into space before I can say calmly and with composure, “...but my husband passed away,” after telling some random story about you to strangers and / or acquaintances. I never really knew when I started doing this or why I did this, but I started to become very conscious of it about a month ago. The first time I really noticed I was doing this was when I was at a juice bar about a month ago. I was ordering something when the cashier said, “I really like your necklace.” I responded with, “Thank you. It belongs to my husband…,” then I paused, took a very deep breath, looked away and stared blankly to his right, and corrected myself and said, “...I mean it belonged to him. He passed away and that’s why I’m wearing it now with his wedding ring.” I think I kind of knew I was doing this but this was the first time I was consciously aware of it and not after the fact. It’s not even something I think about or plan to do, it just happens unconsciously and without any thought on my part. It’s automatic, probably a coping mechanism or survival tactic to make sure I don’t fall apart or start crying uncontrollably in front of strangers or acquaintances in public when I say, “...but my husband passed away.” October just started, but I can tell it’s going to be rough month. It was your cousin RJ’s 50th birthday last Friday. You guys were planning on having a big bash for your 50th, so I can only imagine how he’s feeling. I know it can’t be easy for him. Just like it hasn’t been easy for me to know that I will be turning 40 soon, and you will not be here to witness it. You won’t be able to make fun of me like you said you would whenever you find me making a face in the bathroom in front of the mirror plucking my grey hair and / or looking at the fine lines that are starting to develop on my face. Everytime you catch me doing this, you would say to me, “Babe, you really need to embrace your age,” and I would give you my ‘oh hell no I will not embrace my age’ look, and then you would laugh at me and say, “I can’t wait to see you turn 40 and start having aches and pains in areas you didn’t know could hurt.” This is all I can think about as I approach 40. How you won’t be here to witness me experience aches and pains in places I didn’t even know could hurt. How you didn’t get to celebrate your 50th birthday, and how RJ has to celebrate his 50th birthday alone, without his best cousin by his side like you guys had planned. How each day progresses and I continue to feel stronger and more confident in my own skin and “new” reality yet still feel every blow and trigger like a category 5 tsunami just hit me and I’m being pulled deeper and deeper underwater with no escape in sight. It’s really hard and frustrating when you realize that your healing process is not linear or absolute. It’s frustrating to know that you are fully capable of feeling both extreme joy and acute sadness at the exact same time now. These are things I wish on nobody (not even my arch enemies or rivals), so when I felt her pain and anguish in that millisecond, I cried for her as much as I was crying for myself. Anyways, Babe, Unhappy 9 month deathversary. Hey Babe,
I feel like there’s so much to tell you from my trip to Japan but somehow whenever I go to write, only pain and grief comes through my writing. I don’t know why, maybe they are the thoughts I keep buried deep inside of me that lay dormant until I go to write. Maybe it's my way of coping so I can deal with the world around me and keep my pain and grief at bay. One of the blogs I read about widowhood, a widow wrote that she was afraid to let herself feel the pain or to even go there because she was afraid that she would not be able to survive it, so she always kept her pain and grief in check. She just felt it enough but never too much. She never let herself go too deep or too dark in her grief. Sometimes I feel like I do that also. After you passed, I felt like I had to keep my pain and grief in check. Because I was always afraid of how dark or deep it could go and I was afraid I wouldn't survive or make it out alive. I never really allowed myself to take off the life jacket and see how deep and dark my pain and grief can really go. I was too scared and terrified to let myself go there. I don't think I would ever be able to come up for air if I ever took the life jacket off. I'd probably drowned to death already and my body would sink to the bottom of the ocean with all the baggage strapped to me!! Never ever to be found again. So, instead of letting my pain and grief overpower me and strangle me to death, I always tried to keep it in check and at bay!! (I know, can you image this blog getting any sadder or more painful than it really is?! I don't think I would have many readers left after the first month!!) Most of the time, I still think I'm trying to control my pain and grief. (I mean, nobody would be surprised when I say, "I have control issues!!") For instance, I can’t really look at your things around the house, but I can’t seem to get rid of them either. It's like I still continue to think you are just away right now and will be coming home soon (so having your things around validates that belief). I've never really let myself think or believe that you are never coming back. I guess that's why I can't seem to get rid of your stuff. Not seeing your things or actually looking at the empty spaces where your things used to be would mean I believe you aren't ever coming home again, and whenever I think about this, I just get into a really bad place that I have to pull myself out of real quick or else it would eat me up. But I guess I better get comfortable soon since EE is coming to help me undertake this task in Nov!! I'll be honest, I've been readying myself and mentally preparing myself for this moment since August babe!! That will be three months when November rolls around. I hope I don't chicken out!! 🤞🏽🤞🏾🤞🏾🤞🏽 But, I know and feel that each day that progresses, I’m making strides in my grief process (albeit small, but still progress nonetheless). I'm growing stronger and more confident in my own skin, and I've slowly starting to accept my “new reality.” I don’t cry everyday anymore (only some days now!!). I don’t feel the need to talk (aka write) to you everyday like I used to (hence I’m not blogging now). My “sunny” personality is starting to come back, and my smile and laughter is more genuine and whole-hearted (even JO commented that she feels “the clouds have lifted” for me!!) I've grown more comfortable being alone and in solitude now (whereas before it was very uncomfortable and it made me feel very uneasy and incomplete. And the biggest thing act is that I've stopped wearing my wedding ring!! Yup!! I can't believe it myself. I stopped wearing it since I got back from Japan. Not wearing my wedding ring wasn't an active or conscious decision I made; it just kind of happened. When I was in Japan the first day, I was in a hurry and didn't want to be late for my bike tour, so I had forgotten to put on my wedding ring before I left (I guess being that it was a new environment and my routine was different helped the situation also!) By the time I realized I had forgotten my wedding ring, I was already at my destination, so I had to go through the entire day without it. I became fixated on the ringless ring finger. I kept looking at the indentation on my finger where the ring would be, and I kept touching the empty ring finger with my thumb since it felt so strange to not be wearing my wedding ring. It literally bothered me the entire day that it was hard to enjoy the bike tour (well, at least for the first few hours, I think after awhile I became less fixated on it!) So, after that day, I never got it again when I was in Japan. But when I got back, I didn't realize I had forgotten it again until I was crossing the Dumbarton bridge on Monday morning. I did the same thing; I was fixated on the ringless ring finger again. I kept staring at the indentation of my finger of where it used to be, and I kept touching it with my thumb. But by the end of the day, I thought to myself, maybe there's a reason I kept forgetting it. Maybe it's time to stop wearing it. So, that's what I did, I stopped wearing it and it was very strange for awhile. I would drive home in traffic and just stare at the indentation on my ring finger and I keep touching it with my thumb (like somehow my wedding ring would reappear if I touched it enough time - or maybe I hoped you would reappeared if I touched it enough!!) So, it's been about a month since I stopped wearing my wedding ring. It's strange but I guess with anything else, it's starting to feel a little normal not wearing a wedding ring (except for the indentation that serves as a constant reminder that something is missing, but other than that, I've survived!! But now it's a little strange when I talk about you and say "my husband" and then suddenly realize I'm not wearing a wedding ring, so people might get confused as to what husband am I alluding to now?! I know, widowhood is so DAMN confusing, right? It's never just straight forward and black and white. I guess I'm still learning how to be a widow!!) But, I still have my moments when I think of you and tears just roll down my cheeks uncontrollably (it’s like riding a bike I guess, you can’t forget what it feels like to be in pain and grief. Even if you tried, you can't. That's just how powerful grief is, I suppose!!). But the pain and grief isn’t monopolizing or debilitating my life like it used. So, now I actually have time to do things like watch TV / movies, go out and do things with people, and read. Yup, I said it Babe, READ!! You probably won't believe this when I say, "I’ve been reading a lot lately!!" You’re probably thinking, “Who are you?! And what have you done with my wife?!” I’ve probably read more books in the last month than all the 14 years we’ve been together!! Reading has been taking a lot of my time lately, I guess that's part of the reason why I don't write as much, I've been too busy reading!! 😂😂🤣 I’ve been obsessed with a trilogy called To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before!! SC and I watched the movie when we were in Japan during one of those rainy days before the typhoon touched down, and we completely fell in love with it. We watched it like multiple times while we were in Japan, whenever we had down time, we end up watching it since nothing else held our interest for long. I liked the actress that plays the heroine in the book so much, I researched her and the movie and found out it’s an adaptation from a book. So, when I got back from Japan, I decided to buy the first book and I finished it in like three days. Then I ordered the next two books in the trilogy but it was on back order for 4-6 weeks. I got to the point where I couldn't wait any longer and ended up going to Barnes and Nobel in the middle of the night on a Friday to pick up book 2 and 3, which I ended up finishing both book by Sunday night. (Yes babe, that's 3 books I read in less than one week, that’s over a thousand pages in less than one week!! I know what you’re thinking, “Who are you?!” ‘Cause the only reader in this household is YOU and NOT me!! And, you know how I hate reading fiction. I can only read for information and / or informative self-help books!) I think ultimately, the reason why I was so drawn to the trilogy was the relationship between Lara Jean and Peter reminds me so much of us! It’s almost feels like I’m reading a story about us. How two completely different people without anything in common could fall so madly in love with each other. How instrumental the person became in the other person's life, and how they grew, matured, and evolved over the years by being together. (And, it also doesn't hurt that Peter is the popular and loveable jock with a very gregarious personality that everybody is drawn towards while Lara Jean is the overly opinionated, confident, and independent nerd that marches to the beat of her own drum -- see, just like us!! 🤣😝😬😂) It’s a young adult novel about high school romance, something you'd think I have no interest in, but somehow, I'm completely in love with it, and I have a tendency to obsess over it also!! A lot of the themes and story line reminds me of us and how our relationship evolved over time. There’s a lot a subtheme about dealing with grief and loss that I also gravitated towards as well. Its helped me to realize a few things I've struggled with on my grief journey; like how to reconcile doing something I know that you might not like or don’t necessarily believe in. How I can be so happy yet so sad at the same time. How it’s okay to find joy and happiness in my life yet still long and yearn for you at the same time. How in my darkest days, all I want is for you to comfort me; to make me feel better; to hold my hand and walk me through the fire (or like most times, you'd be carrying me through the fire while I'm kicking and screaming -- I know, I never make anything easy for you!!😂🤣😝😜) And most importantly, how people deal with grief is as a unique and different as a person's individual personality. No two grief experience will ever be the same, even when the loss is shared and for the same person. At the end of the day, it's really hard to realize that we all end up walking down the path of grief alone and at different paces, even if the loss is shared and for the same person. Our journey is not the same nor can we ever really help anyone else but ourselves (especially when the other person is not ready or wanting our help). Each person process pain, suffering, and grief differently, and they also cope and deal with grief and loss differently. No two experiences will ever be the same, even if the way you are connected to the person is the same. For instance, when parents lose a child or when children lose their parents. Even though the role and how they are related to the person is the same, each person still process and copes with the loss differently. My therapist says, the first couple of month will be the same for everyone, but after the initial shock, fog, and haze of the loss lifts, each person’s grief experience will be as different as their personality. Sometimes, I feel like I gravitative towards certain people on this journey because I feel like they would understand what I'm going through, feel that immense pain the same way I do, and would hold my hand so we can walk through this horrible journey together. But overtime, I've come to learn that it’s very hard to keep pace with someone on this grief journey. I haven't found a solid "running partner" on this grief marathon that I can run and keep pace with. But, that doesn't mean there aren't moments where I'm walking hand in hand with someone, but it just doesn't last. Most of the time, it's just me, walking alone in the dark, scared and petrified of what lays ahead. But I have no choice, but to just keep forging forward, even if all I want is to move backwards or to just stop. But, I know I can't stop. If I stop, even for a second to catch my second wind, I'm scared (actually I'm petrified) that I might never be able to get up or keep on going again; I'd probably be stuck in that same place indefinitely; laying in bed, standing still, crying my eyes out while life and time, just about everything else around me, just keeps on going, moving forward, while I stand still, enthralled in immense pain and grief, unable to cope or deal with my "new" reality. With any journey towards self-discovery, there will inevitably be moments where we move backwards as much as we're moving forward. We retreat because we feel scared, hopeless, helpless, and a whole slew of other emotions that I don't have time to list. These emotions, if we allow it, will swirl around inside of us, and before we know it, they will take over and permeate our mind, body, and spirit, and we start questioning everything we know about our self and who we are. They will take away our courage and strength, and when we're finally on our knees begging for mercy, they would take advantage of our weakness and stage a coup; imprisoning and holding us hostage inside our own body. (You see what I have to deal with Babe?! This shit is freaking SCARY as S***!! So, why do you think I keep pushing myself (even if sometimes, I'm moving backwards instead of forward...because standing still is not a viable survival skill in this war, at least for me!!) But, I will admit I've gotten better equipped at fighting this war that rages on inside and around me because I have more good days than bad now. Even the bad days aren’t as immobilizing or debilitating as they used to be, but I don’t think the hurt is less or doesn't cut as deep because when it still hurts and cuts, the pain and grief is just as painful, deep, and raw as the first days after you passed. I think the difference is that I have more experience and better weapons at combating and fighting this war against grief and I’ve grown more accustom to the hurt and pain that it’s become a part of my "new" normal now. I guess you can say, the pain and grief has become a part of me now. A part of who I am. A part of my story. Even if I want to go back to that other person before you passed, I wouldn't be able to. Even if you walked through the door today, I don't know if I could even go back to being me before you died or even living that life anymore. I'm not sure if you would even recognize me now either if you came back. I guess I'm starting to reach the part of my grief journey where the online widow(er)s support group says, “They are different people now. They are not the same person they were when their spouse was alive. Who they are now is not the same person they were before. So, even if their late spouse was able to come back to life, they’re not sure they would go back to that life anymore. They can’t live that old life anymore, because everything about them has changed. They are different now and they no longer fit into that old life anymore!” I didn’t know how to feel when I read that post and all the comments that followed. It felt kind of strange to me at the time, yet those words were loud and clear at the same time. It felt like they were trying to tell me something that I was struggling with, that I was trying to reconcile within myself. I didn't know what it was, but I know those words gave me a sense of fear and comfort at the same time. I don't know if the fear is because that day will actually come or if there will actually be a day where I would say, "Sorry Babe, you took too long to come back and it's too late now." I can barely figure out how I will feel from one minute to the next, but what I can say with certainty is that with every progressive day, I see myself slowly changing and evolving; becoming a new and different person. It’s both strange and exciting at the same time. (if you’re wondering!!) It’s hard to reconcile how sad and happy I feel about this, but I guess it all goes back to what my therapist keeps telling me, “Emotions are messy. They’re not cut and dry.” I guess I have to keep living in the “grey area.” I know, Konmari must be very upset that I can’t seem to neatly organize my emotions into properly labeled shoe boxes like she instructed. I’m such a failure in life, I know!! 😂🤣 Remember that day in Kyoto when I had my meltdown about the Mario kart thing? When I finally calmed myself down, I started surfing the web and came across the eulogy Biden gave at McCain’s funeral. The part that really touched me was when he said, “What’s going to happen is, six months will go by, and everybody’s going to think, well, it’s passed. But you’re going to ride by that field or smell that fragrance, receive that flashing image, and you’re going to feel like that day you got the news. But you know you’re going to make it when the image of your dad, your husband, your friend, crosses your mind, and a smile comes to your lip before a tear to your eye. That’s when you know, and I promise you, I give you my word, I promise you, this I know, that day will come. That day will come.” I don’t think I’m quite there yet, where I can say I made it because an image of you brings a smile to my lips before it brings a tear to my eyes, but I feel that I’m getting closer to it. (Well, at least I hope I’m getting closer to it!!) But, I guess with everything else on this journey, it takes a lot of time and patience. I have to remember that it’s baby steps before I can start running again. I think I’m at the stage where I know I can walk on my own now, but I’m still scared to let go of the furniture, so I’m still hanging on until I can find the confidence to let go of the furniture and walk on my own. Hey Babe -
Last night I finished reading Me Before You (yup, it’s also a movie) - a story about a quadriplegic who decides to end his life because he can no longer live trapped in his body. At the end of the story, the heroine, who is also his caretaker for the last six months, is laying next to him, crying and hugging him, her face is buried on his chest while he’s taking his last breaths. He asks her to look at him, but she refuses because she doesn’t want the last image he has of her is when she’s crying uncontrollably and scared. (Of course she inevitably looks at him and he tells her how beautiful she looks...it’s a romcom for god’s sake Babe!!) As I was driving down the hill this morning to work, I thought of that last scene from the book and it made me think of our last moment (well, the only difference was that we didn’t know it was going to be the last time we would ever see each other again, we didn’t have that luxury). I flashed back to you standing on your knees, fighting to breathe, gripping both my shoulders, staring at me with your worried and terrified eyes; you were speechless while I was scared out of my mind; I was probably pale from fright, tears were rolling down my cheeks uncontrollably, and I was speechless also. We both just stared at each other, scared, frightened, and speechless. We didn’t know what was going to happen next; I don’t think either of would have ever imagined in our right minds the ending that was awaiting us. (Trust me, the last thing on my mind that day was I was going to be a widow!!) Tears just started rolling down my cheeks; I had to fight back the tears, it’s been a few months since I’ve cried in the car, so it felt a little strange. You don’t know how many times that image used to play over and over again in my head right after you passed, like a continuous loop that was on an endless repeat, whether I liked it or not. That image tormented me for months. It was like it was haunting and taunting me every time it flashed through my mind – yup, PTSD at its best!! You don’t know how much that image pains me whenever it flashes through my mind. Knowing that the last image you had of me was when I was terrified, scared out of my mind, crying profusely, and unable to utter a single word. That was the last thing you saw and the image you had of me before you died in the ambulance on the way to the hospital. I don’t know if you ever saw that side of me in the 14+ years we’ve been together, probably not, because it was even a shocker to me since I never seen myself that way before either in the last 39 years I’ve known myself. Then I would start thinking what was going on in your mind in those last 20 minutes before you passed away. What were you thinking? I can’t even image the thoughts that were racing through your head at that moment. (Well, I hope at least one of the thoughts that crossed your mind was, “Damn!!! She was right again!! I should have listened to my wife and went to the hospital!! She nagged me for like 4 days!!” -- Yeah, you know I couldn’t help myself. It wouldn’t be me if I didn’t say it out loud!!) What were you feeling? How you must have been so scared. How you were all alone in the ambulance when you died. No one to hold your hand or to hug you or tell you how much they love you when you took your last breath. How all alone you must have felt and how I wasn’t there for you, nor did we ever get a chance to say goodbye or tell each other how much we love each other. Not only were we robbed of our future together, but we were also robbed of a proper goodbye. It’ll be nine months next week, I can’t believe how quickly time has flown by. I remember after you passed, I was counting days, then weeks, and now months. In just a few short months, I’ll start counting years. It’s hard to believe how time can just keep on going like nothing happened. Time is heartless, unemotional, and detached. Time and death are the great equalizer in life; they are both unbiased and untainted. They can’t be bribed or subjected. They are merciless and exacting. Sometimes, I want to scream and make time stop and stand still with me, so it can feel the pain and grief that resides deep in my heart. But it never does. It just keeps on going. Time stops for no one. People used to tell me, “Time will heal!” (which as you know, I hated and whatever platitudes that people tell me to try to make me feel better. I hated it all and nothings changed in the last 9+ months, except now I just smile and nod instead of get angry at them. Yes, I’ve gotten better at managing my pain and ignorant people!!) In all honestly, time doesn’t heal or take the pain away or make the “hurt” less, it just helps you “manage” the pain better and become more “comfortable” in your “new normal.” The longer time stretches away from January 7th, 2018, I’ve just gotten better at dealing with my new life because the more you practice something, the better you get at it. Widowhood is a skill that I’ve come to realize, with anything else in life, takes a lot of hard work and practice to master. And that’s what I’ve been doing since January 7th, I’ve been working hard and practicing to live a life without my person, my life partner, my soulmate, my husband. And overtime, like with anything else, the harder you work and the more you practice, the better you become at it. So, let me just reiterate, time does not heal anything, nothing at all. It doesn’t take the pain away nor does it make my heart hurt any less than the day you died. All time has done is that it helped me grow more comfortable in my “new normal” from hard work, practice, and repetition. That’s all it does - nothing more and nothing less. Screw time and screw death! F*** them both!! |
AuthorA grieving widow who is trying to find meaning and purpose from her tragic event. Archives
July 2021
Categories |
RSS Feed
