This Curious Grief~

As shocking as it is still to me, I have now lived for 22 months without my husband.

Am I supposed to be further along with this grief than I am?  I’m just kind of letting it happen in a way I’ve never allowed anything to just happen ever before in my life.  I’ve always grabbed life by the balls and done whatever I could to influence it.  I’ve always been passionate about life but, yeah, that feeling is gone.  Quite honestly, I’m allowing life to just happen more because I don’t have energy to do anything else.  While it’s just happening, I’m going out there and creating a life for myself without him, as I’m supposed to do and as I have to do because here’s the thing.  I’m still alive.  And, as I’m not going to kill myself, that entails a certain amount of effort to ensure that I have a place to sleep, food to eat and…well, that’s pretty much it for what I’m caring about.

Let me shock and appall the general public with my next statement.  I don’t give a flying fuck about life since Chuck died.  Quickly, quickly, let me respond to the in- drawn breaths of horror that statement likely invokes, and please take back the anti-depressants you’re holding out to me.  Yes, Chuck would want me to be happy.  Yes, I know I’m supposed to be grateful for being alive.  Yes, I have kids and grandkids I love desperately and that should be enough to make me feel engaged in life.  Yes, I know you (that’s a general you) are horrified that I’ve given up (or seem to have given up).  Yes, I know you believe that Chuck is everywhere around me.  Yes, I know I’m supposed to think positively towards life and not allow negative thoughts in my head. (and I will as soon as someone tells me what is positive about the love of my life dying).

Its’ almost become a humorous thing for me, the degree of grief I feel and the almost instantaneous response I get when I speak of it at times.  Because we’re supposed to get on with it, don’t you know?  We’re supposed to at least be grateful to be alive!  And it discombobulates people when you don’t follow the general life program.  Fortunately, those who people my life are supportive (though they have been called enabling by others) and encouraging but holy shit, the stuff I hear from others in grief and what they go through isn’t to be believed.

See, I’m not really here.  My body is here, but I’m not.  That woman who was deeply in love with her husband, the woman who lived passionately and absorbed and enjoyed the sensuality of life and love…she’s not here any longer and I don’t have a fucking clue who this woman is who wears my body.

Pity is unnecessary and unwelcome.  No sympathy needed.  Just trying to be honest here.

For god’s sake, go find someone who’s grieving and offer them empathy.  Go right now.  Pick up your phone and call them.  Ask them if they would like to talk about any of this shit and what it’s like for them.

That’s how you can make a difference and, maybe, help them find themselves again~


10 thoughts on “This Curious Grief~

  1. Yeah, I know…’s been 25 months since I lost Chris……I am still a mess! There is NO timeline or pattern or “stages” for y our grief! You are YOU and you are the only one who can deal with your own grief! I think of you all the time. You UNDERSTAND this abyss. Peace to you and peace to me……whenever…..someday?

  2. My first response to your post was: “Like totally, right?”. Alison, my brain seems to be checking out ahead of my body. It seems to be saying to me: “Well, this party has played itself out since all the cool people left. Time to go find fun elsewhere.”. I try to carry on. I went to New Hampshire. I flirted with a waiter, looked at cute gifts for my friends. I ate pizza. I listened to great music on the drive home and vigorously sang along. I car danced. (That torso-only gyrating and shaking, with elaborated arm and hand gestures, that can be performed behind the steering wheel. Safely, at stoplights.) But a gift I purchased for a friend was sent to the wrong address. I cared enough about my furry godson to get him a special retrieval toy, drew a paw print in his name on the pretty envelope, put my scent on it so he would know it was from me, but – honestly – I just plain ran out of steam when it came to double-checking the address. And my mind leaves conversations before they are over. It refused, today, to calculate the numbers necessary to pay my bills. I have to wrestle it into conformity the way parents wrestle a two year old who insists it’s not time for bed, doesn’t want his shots or would rather continue to be carried rather than walk. It is so great to hear you tell it like it is! I don’t give a fuck either.

  3. omgitscomplicatedgriefgetthemeds!!! NOT. I found myself nodding as I read your honest and brutal account of where you are. I love your honesty. I love your fierce determination to be where you are in your journey as it unfolds. And I love you.

  4. We are all just zombies, a crust of what life used to be. Living without the memories would help . Thinking of having that part of my brain removed then I could stop searching for ; one more look , one more sniff, one more touch. I don’t give a fuck either ! Dianne

  5. I never thought I would have someone in my family go through what you are going through. But I sit in a horrible snow and windstorm waiting for a Celebration of Life ceremony to take place tomorrow, which should have taken place today. My brother in law passed away in just 9 weeks of being diagnosed. CANCER. He was my sisters love, best friend, everything. I can see her pain and know she is feeling so lost, so alone in a deep dark abyss We have been here for most of the time, but we need to go. I don’t bother to say meaningless words to her. How can I ever feel what she is going through but I know if something happened to the love of my life I would be going through the same. Thank you for sharing your honest words.

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