Here’s what I now know about medications and grief. This isn’t all personal experience, at least as far as allopathic medications are concerned; this is what I’ve gathered from other widow/ers. I speak only of the herbs/homeopathic remedies that I’ve employed to help me with my grief.
This St John’s Wort, widely used in Europe as a mood elevator, works for me in that it almost immediately dropped a gossamer veil between me and my grief. I picture my grief now as the filter used in old-time movies to soften the features of the actors and actresses. I know my grief is there but there is very clearly something keeping me from fully absorbing it. And that is indeed the purpose of St John’s Wort so…mission accomplished on that.
What it doesn’t do is take away or remove everything else that companions the meat-cutter of grief. There is no filter on the shattering loneliness. The lost feelings of being someone’s someone. The steady thrum of starvation from the lack of touch by the man I love. The empty silence where all the words I want to speak fall not on deaf ears but no ears. The shuddering absence of the energy that shimmered and shifted next to me through the years. The hole in my soul.
I don’t believe that there is any medication or herb in the world that changes these realities.
Yes, I can find a group of people with whom to discuss issues. And I do talk with people constantly in the course of my day. And my kids and friends call, and they give me hugs and I’m so thankful for that. And yes, I have grand-kids and I love them all dearly. And none of that makes up for/replaces what I had with Handsome Husband.
I crave his touch and my body starves, knowing I’ll never feel his hands on me again. I wonder how it would feel to have another man’s hands on me, feel another man’s arms around me, dance with another man, even as I realize it is my husband I desire, not just any man. And I know that even if I invite another man into my life someday, Handsome Husband will always be my husband even should I fall in love (which I hope to do). I’ll always be his widow because he was my husband and there is some strange beauty in that in this fucking weird new world without him.
These thoughts spin round and round in my heart these days and, contrary to how I appear, I’m really very confused. Which is, I know, pretty well reflected in this particular piece of writing.
Really, all I know is that I miss my husband. I miss Chuck. I miss him in ways that can only be imagined in the nightmares that come in the deepest, darkest hours of sleep that waken you sweating and screaming and breathless with adrenalin.
Beat, thrum, throb, cut, slice goes my heart…