Widow's Voice

31.

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Well, in a few days I turn 31. Last year’s birthday felt hard because I was entering a new decade that Boris will never experience. He is forever 27. Frozen in time. And now 31 feels so far from 27. Like I am a different person, entering a whole new world that is separate from him. It feels weird and kind of lonely. I think my birthdays may always have a bit of a sting. Even while eating cake and enjoying the company of family and friends, it will always remind me that I am getting older and Boris never will. Each year brings me further from him.

This birthday is also bringing me some feelings of “what am I doing with my life?” but I know that is normal. My life does not look like I planned, or anywhere near what I imagined. Boris’s death shifted everything about my future. And, now, my dad’s declining health is creating a whole new world that I never wanted. If I am honest, I do not love my life right now. But, I do try to make the most of it. And I know I am lucky in so many ways. I try to practice self-care, say yes to opportunities, and not worry too much about making things perfect. I still grieve the life I wanted with Boris. And, seeing my dad’s dementia and Parkinson’s worsen is incredibly sad and heartbreaking. But, these are the cards I was dealt and I have to just put one foot in front of the other and move forward. I am ready to take on 31 with an open heart and mind to the possibilities, even though I know there are hard days ahead. Even though I know that there are going to be days that bring me to my knees. But, I have been through what I never thought I’d survive, yet here I am turning 31.

 

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.