Until Boris died I did not realize how much it means for someone to be able to say, “me, too”. In the weeks and months following his death, I craved stories and relationships with people who had lost their person or lost someone they love to suicide. I wanted to only watch movies, read books, and listen to podcasts about grief and loss. I wanted to hear people’s sad stories. I wanted to hear their pain. I wanted to hear that they are suffering, but that they are still alive and pushing on. I did not want to hear happily-ever-after stories or watch romance movies where everything works out in the end. Give me all of the sadness, please! I did not want to be alone in my pain.
About 8 months post-loss I started attending a support group for suicide loss. There were three of us in the group, one other widow and one woman who lost her brother. Each week I needed this connection. I remain friends with these women now, long after the group ended. We check-in and we support each other. The other widow and I talk often about our sadness and our complicated grief of losing our partner. I cannot imagine not having her to reach out to when I feel jealous and sad over engagement photos on social media or when I have weird flashbacks that I know she will understand.
I have only been able to attend one Camp Widow so far, but those few days were so meaningful and so needed. Being surrounded by other people who “get it” gave me the ability to exhale and experience my grief alongside others who know this pain. It is something that cannot be replaced–that “me, too” feeling.
I hate that other people have to do life without their person. I hate that they have endured the trauma and the pain. It isn’t fair and it isn’t ok. But, what an irreplaceable gift it is to be able to be in the presence of someone who “gets it”. What would I have done without the books, the movies, the podcasts, the conversations, the friendships, the songs, and the love from people who have experienced this type of loss? I am so grateful.
