Widow's Voice

Missing moments.

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Today I successfully defended my dissertation proposal for my Ph.D. This means I am in the final phase of my program…only the dissertation left to go. In my department, this step in the process is pretty significant. A lot of pressure, preparation, and anxiety goes into this phase. Although I was pretty confident I would be successful, hearing from my committee that I passed as a relief. I felt accomplished. I felt excited. I received texts from my family and my friends. We plan to celebrate this weekend. It is a good feeling and an important moment in my journey. But, celebrations like this and moments like this always have a tinge of sadness. Boris is not here to tell me congratulations. He isn’t here to be excited about my accomplishment. I didn’t call him or text him afterward, and he isn’t going to be celebrating with me this weekend. That really sucks.

I know that I may not even be in a Ph.D. program if Boris hadn’t died. I may not have made that big decision to go back to school. I don’t know how life would have looked…I don’t know where the chips would have fallen. Or, how his presence would have changed the course of everyone’s lives. But, he did die. And this is the path I am on…but, it still feels weird to not have him here for these moments. I know he would be proud of me, and most of the time I believe he is out there somewhere and he is proud of me.

 

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.