My life is in flux more so than usual because I am traveling through a phase that may be permanent, then again, may not be. The absolute love of my life, half of who I am and have been for more than 43 years (close for 45.5 years), is gone from my presence. He is sleeping, resting, awaiting. Though expected, the actual experience of becoming a widow has been immensely more difficult than any previous loss, or than I ever imagined it could be. It's a road one travels alone, yet, alongside others so afflicted. Life goes on as we attempt to skip into normal, to get back in step with life around us. No degree or amount of education prepares one for the actual physical, mental and emotional effects of spousal loss. It is. Logic makes sense of what's happened in one part of my brain, but the mental, emotional parts have taken me into an alternate world slightly out of phase with the one that existed until he left and took a part of me with him.
It hasn't been 5 months, but I don't cry every day now, unless something touches my heart--a memory, an item from our lives together, or a place we frequented, perhaps a need for help with a small, normally-shared task, something that needs repair, a need for advice or suggestions on how to handle a repair, how my hair looks, how my clothes fit..."Does this outfit look OK?" I can still find joy and laugh, but underneath there is a deep sadness--an emptiness--that nothing seems to diminish or fill. God is here, carrying me from day to day, comforting and encouraging, helping me not to be lost in the despair of not accomplishing what needs to be done. He encourages me in the financial struggles now faced alone, letting me know He will provide. He helps with the loneliness. I wonder how those without faith can make it through such a time as this?
At first, even after providing years of care, though the likelihood of his death was very real, when it happened, I was in shock. There was a pervasive numbness. Responding to the grief and concern of others seemed natural, but beyond me. I wanted to reach out, to console and comfort my children, family and friends who were also suffering the loss, but they all wanted to take care of me. The numbness of the shock was like unto the initial numbness of a physical injury, it can allow you to do what is necessary before the pain debilitates you. It seemed to last about two weeks, or a bit longer--three maybe? By then, I was physically alone. That's when the devastation hit.
Being blessed not to have young children at home, I was able to take the time to ride that plunging roller coaster all the way to the bottom. From there, it seemed there was no way up, and no reason to try to get there. No, I wasn't thinking suicide, just didn't see a reason to continue my life. My children, being grown, living their own lives, rarely need me even for something as small as an opinion. With no one who needs me, I felt I now have no purpose. Sleep took me away. There were no dreams, just timeless sleep. Going through this I worried about our cats not getting the care and attention they needed. When I had to get out of bed, I met the physical needs of the cats from day to day--their presence helps. Food for me seemed completely unnecessary, and I was often surprised to realize a day or more had gone without me eating a morsel of food. Without the phone calls of the few, I'm not sure how my perception of time would have been. Even with them, my sense of time's passage was dreamlike.
Each of the immediate family seemed to have an even better understanding than I of how strongly his death might affect me. For me, living this incredible pain still does not take away my concern for my children and how they are grieving, but they hardly discuss it. I know everyone grieves differently, or, at least, individually, so I shouldn't have expectations of them sharing with me. Somehow, though, I need to share memories and feelings with them, and find it difficult to accomplish.
The Memorial Service was in early October. This was a pivotal event to help settle how real his death was, yet, we have the graveside service left to do, so there are still those continuing unresolved concerns to consider. For our family, having some time between his passing and the Memorial Service allowed us to create a celebration of his life that was a truly treasured event. Dear friends and closest family gathered in a place he loved where we talked of his life and influence. It was just what he wanted.
Since October, the haze of the days going by has started to lift, and last week I started to awaken early, have breakfast, and make attempts at accomplishing tasks around home. The house is about half renovated, so there is much to be done, however, weather is hampering progress. But, ideas of how to get around the weather may help. If I could get more done on the house, I'd feel I was doing something he'd want me to do. It will give a sense of continuing a project we had hoped to do together and his influence will continue, too. Perhaps, tomorrow will bring the progress needed on one more aspect of the renovation. The thought brings one of those little sparks of joy to my heart.
Now, off to bed so I can arise early enough to feel good about being alive!
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