Widow's Voice

Even the fun things.

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Well, I went to that Odesza concert. And, I brought a little of Boris with me and left a little of him behind. I think he would appreciate that a little sprinkle of him is there.

I struggled with what to write about as I sat down to write today. My brain feels a bit overwhelmed at the moment, but I think that’s worth writing about too. I have a lot going on between school and caregiving for my dad, but then I always have this grief too. A normal and fun activity like going to a concert would feel light to anyone else, but it wasn’t for me. It was fun and I enjoyed it, but I was also missing Boris. I was thinking about him and that grief was heavy. It has me thinking about how everything is colored and shaped by my loss, even happy and exciting things. Especially when it’s things that I know he would have enjoyed. Nothing can really be only fun for me, it’s always fun but also sad or bittersweet or maybe there’s even a small layer of guilt. Perhaps that will shift over time, but I am also ok if it doesn’t. I will always wish he were here to be part of the fun things. He should have been at that show. It sucks that I had to bring a tiny bag of his ashes instead. And, that deserves acknowledgment. 

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.