Grief and I have gone from not knowing each other at all to knowing each other well. What I thought it was compared with what it really is, are so far apart, I have to laugh. But then did I really want to know?
I thought it was only about sadness.
But it’s so much more.
The hair loss, hot flashes, memory losses, sleeplessness, shock, numbness, tiredness, daydreaming, memories, helplessness, pain, isolation, fear, heaviness and waves of despair are part of it.
Then there is that need to give in order to help fill that hurt and that hole in your soul. There is that craving for just one more something from the one you love — the unfinished business that a suicide often leaves in its wake.
You are left with this new thing, too–a depth to your soul that was only there intermittently before. It’s like a hidden door that you can access so easily now that you are in the club no one wants to be in. You didn’t even realize your love could go that deep. It feels bottomless.
The most painful is the ache.
It is so hard to get from under because it surrounds you and you want escape but it sits there stubbornly, refusing to move. And just when you least expect it, it lifts. Relief.
Sometimes I have felt afraid that if I let the grief lift, I am cheating on Charles. Like having fun means he was right all along about the world being a better place without him. I purposefully and diligently have to work at reminding myself that I am still alive and didn’t make the decision for him to go early. It’s my duty as a living person to find joy without guilt.
No one tells you about the moments of sheer joy, or even the string of “hyper days” that always end in a crash. (I’m not all that sure others get the hyper days.) And sure, there is the sadness and tears, the part everyone knows about.
Grief is a tangled mess, a maze of unorganized emotions that you somehow understand the rhythm of over time.
Learning to live without the person that was my purpose is probably the hardest part.
After a grief episode and the grief hangover that comes after, I know there will be relief. But it doesn’t always come as fast as I’d like it to. And that’s just the way this journey goes sometimes.