Widow's Voice

Cry, Cry, Cry

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It has been a while since I have cried. A really good, long cry. The last time I think was when I watched the Netflix movie Fatherhood. I sobbed during that one and then for a while after.  Sometimes it feels so good to cry, doesn’t it? It is like it has been bottled up inside you for so long, waiting to erupt. And when it finally does, it just flows and flows. I used to need to cry like that at least once every few days. Now it is less frequent, but I wonder how much of the infrequency is me holding it in or pushing my emotions down. I have a playlist on Spotify of songs that make me cry. Sometimes the tears come immediately when I listen to certain songs, but other times I can listen and feel nothing. They are all songs about death, of course. Sometimes they hit me and sometimes they don’t. The same with old photos of Boris or love notes. I never know when seeing an old memory is going to make me cry. 

The other day I took a nap, which is pretty rare for me. I was exhausted. During my maybe 45-minute nap, I dreamed I was talking in front of a large group of people, it seemed like a work meeting or conference. I had to talk about a former co-worker who died (this death happened in real life) and when I did, I started crying. And then, I couldn’t stop. I started sobbing uncontrollably and had to run out of the room. I remember running down a hallway. I could feel that intense heaviness and heat on my face. That deep, intense crying sensation in my throat. I woke up from my nap and had tears on my cheeks. I felt even more exhausted, of course. I wonder if that dream was my body telling me that I need some release. I need a good cry. I am ready for it when it happens. I know it is good to release those emotions. Sometimes the weight of grief and trauma is too intense and I want to just push it aside so I can get through my day. And I think sometimes that is ok. But, I know that sometimes I need to let the waves crash over me, too. 

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.