Widow's Voice

4 years

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April 7th marks 4 years since I saw Boris alive. And, it still feels like, how can this be?

I have been listening to Maren Morris’s new album and she has this song about someone she loves dying and imagining what the world would do without them.

I know the sun will set into the ocean
And I know we’re gonna get to where we’re going
But I still got just one question that I can’t work through
What would this world do without you?

I keep thinking about this song today. The world does just keep on spinning. Our people were there one minute and then gone the next. Just like that. Our worlds were completely turned upside down and shattered. And the world just moves ahead. The birds are singing. The rain is falling. The radio is still playing music. Kids are still playing. People are still telling jokes. And there we are asking ourselves, “what are we going to do?”

I survived what I thought was impossible. Because I was aware that Boris was struggling with suicidal ideation, I had somewhat imagined what would happen if he’d died, although looking back I was definitely avoiding actually imagining it (another subject for another day–denial!), and I thought I would have gone completely insane. I thought I would be paralyzed and unable to function. I thought my life would have ended too. And, yes, there were days that was the case. But… somehow I am waking up every day 4 years later and living my life. Getting a Ph.D. Caring for my dad. Laughing. Making plans. And, yet, how can that be?  It doesn’t feel real.

Don’t know what I would do if your tomorrow never came
The only thing I’m sure of is that I’ll never be the same

4 years…

About Victoria Helmly

My love story began in 2005 and though my love is no longer physically here with me, our story has not ended. I met Boris when we were 14, but it was not until our junior and senior year of high school that we became more than friends (he was my first kiss!). We went to the same college and although our relationship was a bit rocky through our early 20s, we made it through. He was my person. Our relationship grew stronger as we matured and learned about one another more as adults. I was certain that he was my forever. We talked about the future a lot and we knew we would get married, but we did not want to rush—he was still finishing graduate school and I was just starting my first full-time job. We did not realize how little time we had left together.

In the summer of 2017, Boris was hospitalized three times for active suicidal ideation. This was a heartbreaking, exhausting, and life-changing experience. After 10 months of therapy, medication, and support groups, Boris died by suicide on April 7, 2018. My life now has two parts: the one before April 7, 2018 and the one after. My very best friend, my person was now gone.

If you were to ask how I am doing now, 2.5 years later, I would say I am okay. I am living. My world continues to spin, and I continue to move forward. However, I still carry deep sorrow and loneliness. I have struggled with PTSD, anxiety, and depression. Sometimes I still cannot believe that he is actually gone. I still feel him with me, and I know that I will never stop loving and missing him.

I am currently in school for my Ph.D. and live just outside of Atlanta with our cat, Kitty Cat (Boris is responsible for the creative name). I work as a graduate research assistant currently, but I worked for three years with our State Unit on Aging prior to going back to school. I love movies, my friends and family, long walks, and traveling.