I am realizing that I am now far enough out from my loss to have some perspective on my behaviors and reactions when I was only hours, days, weeks, and months out from it. Isn’t it weird how much we forget and the parts we remember? And I wonder how much of it I remember differently than reality. But, I thought it was worth writing some of my thoughts. 

I had a sort-of flashback recently of some of the things I did in the days and weeks after Boris died that made me stop and realize how bizarre it probably felt to other people. Maybe a week or so after he died, I asked some of our friends to go through his books and pick anything they wanted. It was like a used book sale. At the time, I felt like that was a normal thing to do—pick a book! Your friend just tragically died and you probably haven’t fully accepted that yet, but don’t you want one of his books?! I also cleaned out his belongings very quickly. I took bags and bags to a men’s shelter and stored away items I wanted to keep. I sold items, I donated items, I kept a lot, and I pushed through these tasks. 

I did all of the administrative tasks of death really quickly, too. I called medical providers, I mailed death certificates, I closed accounts…I was on the ball. I was efficient. I checked off all the tasks. I was organized and I was checking off the list. 

Looking back…perhaps I was able to do these tasks in those early days because the reality of the loss hadn’t actually hit me yet. I was still in shock.

I started my grief work really quickly after he died. I started EMDR maybe 4 days after his death. I almost immediately started reading grief books. I looked for support groups. I sought out grievers, especially widows. During this, I discovered Soaring Spirits and booked my trip to Camp Widow! Eventually, I was doing therapy twice a week, going to groups, reading books, writing a blog, and consuming exclusively grief-related media. I did not want to watch a romantic comedy. I did not want to listen to a love song. I only wanted death and heartbreak and tragedy. 

Looking back as I approach the 4-year mark this spring, I guess I would describe my very early grief as efficient…like I was trying to win the gold medal for grief. In a way, I felt like I could somehow thrive in it. I could make an A+. But, boy, let me tell you, I was also so, so depressed. I was so anxious. I was sobbing uncontrollably multiple times a day. I had a hard time waking up and getting to work. I had nightmares all the time. I was checking all the right boxes and I was doing all the right things, but I was still in misery. I was still in excruciating pain. I couldn’t plan my way out of my grief. I couldn’t check it off the list. I couldn’t keep myself busy enough to outrun it. 

Though I did not grieve in the “best” way and I have used my share of unhealthy coping mechanisms, one thing that I am proud of myself for doing is facing my grief head-on. I let it wash over me (maybe too much?). I talked about it to therapists. I worked through trauma. I wrote about it. I told close friends about it. Yes, I think some of my friends probably thought I was crazy when I was trying to give away Boris’s stuff within days of his sudden death. And, looking back, that does seem bizarre maybe. Yes, people probably thought I was overdoing the therapy and maybe I became a little *too* interested in death. It is a weird experience to remember those things now. And in a few years, I will probably look back on things I am doing now and think it was odd or unhealthy. The only thing I know is that I am forever shaped by my loss and it will continue to evolve and I will continue to grow around it. But, one thing is for sure, I can complete the to-do lists, I can plan ahead, I can read all the books, I can do all of the work, but my grief is still going to be there. Boris’s suicide is always going to hurt…a lot. It is always going to be a terrible, immeasurably sad thing. And that is just all there is to it.