I think, at best, I will rebuilt a remarkable life; but while I live this beautiful new life, I know that a part of me will always be searching for the woman I used to be. I am on the look out for the woman who was filled with excitement about the future she was going to spend with Mike. I miss this person I once was. I miss her so very much. Lately, my grief has evolved into a grief of my own. Now, I spend a great deal of time mourning the woman I used to be; and, concurrently, I mourn for the woman I could have been if he did not die so unexpectedly.
Widowed and Healing
I realize I have gotten to a point where I go through my week, head down and pushing things back to keep grief at bay. The weekend hits and my first day is full of errands and obligations but my second day is dedicated to allowing the gates of grief to open when I write […]
Often, our gift to this world–the thing we are here to do–is the thing we tend to fear or dislike the most. Scary how that works. I wanted to be a writer. Here I am… writing a blog, not a book.
What did you want to be when you grew up? I used to ask pretty much everyone I knew. For Suzanne, it was a criminologist or a forensic scientist (long before becoming fashionable, or used as source material for TV shows, movies and true crime dramas).
Since he died,
I’ve been scared a lot because I have to do everything on my own.
Since he died,
I’ve been forced to do a hell of a lot more than simply watching movies alone.
I’ve been forced to life alone.
And, this is far from easy.
July, that is.
The death month.
The month that he died.
For another year.
We now move into August,
and my anxiety finally gets to shut down for awhile.
Hello, For those of you new around here, Hi I’m Bryan. I’m a director of animal care at an aquarium. I’m passionately obsessed with essential oils and environmentally safe products. I’m a son, brother, uncle, cousin and a friend. I love to dance. I love to make others smile. I want to make the world […]
Two years ago, today, my wife wrote this. I just can’t write anything more…
Since I’m finally feeling vaguely human for the first time in almost a month, I thought I would take the opportunity to say a huge “thank you” to all family, friends, friends of friends and people who barely know me, who have rallied to support us over the last few difficult weeks. Everything happened so quickly and aggressively that I had to accept that chemo, narcotics and goodness knows how many different antibiotics, anti-nausea and anti-anxiety drugs were a necessity to try to gain some control over what seemed like a runaway train.
Photo by Karim MANJRA on Unsplash I spend a lot of my time reading about death, dying, and grieving, participating in webinars and holding space sessions with grief experts, people who’ve developed wise perspective on what it is to love, to lose, and to continue living. Apart from two moments since Mike’s death, I have […]
Now, at 3.8 years, my grief is not just about Mike. It’s not that I don’t miss him now, I do. I miss him endlessly. I say “I miss you Mike” many, many times each day. But, now the uncertainty surrounding my future is what really gets to me. My focus is on me and not simply surviving his death. I have done this. I have survived Mike dying. And, now, I am attempting to thrive in the life I am slowly and meticulously recreating from scratch without a recipe to follow. Like all widowed people, I am rebuilding my life and discovering my new self-identity and this is a long and tedious process. But, this process is necessary. It is part of the evolution of grief. Eventually, grief becomes ours – for ourselves. It’s not about my dead spouse anymore… it’s about me. I am the one who is still living. And, you are too.
At the behest of my new partner, I have started to read fiction again. The second of her recommendations is a book called “A Gentleman in Moscow.”
I am currently reading and enjoying it. Set in post revolutionary Russia, with lots of flashbacks to an earlier, more gilded age, the book is the story of a singular man—a count—who is placed under house arrest.
When Drew died, I gathered all the support I could muster and I do truly believe it helped me to navigate the pain. Grief has taught me not to wait until there is a raging storm, but instead to seek support out when the clouds first begin to thicken.
In the year after our twin daughters were born, we got a golden retriever puppy we named Charlie. Everyone always says they have, “the best dog ever,” but Charlie truly was. When the girls were young, they could pull on his ears, his tail, his fur, just about any part of him and he would never so much as complain, growl or groan.