I Am a Widower - Year Two
While getting my spare room ready for a friend this past weekend, I came across Kelly’s lipstick case. It lay there on the nightstand small and silver, with some subtle scratch marks on it from the many times she had slid it in and out of her purse. She was never without it on most days. I felt the warm tears welling up in my eyes as I picked it up and held it and looked at my refection in the mirror attached to it. I could still see her fingers on it in my mind and heart and I almost believed it would be warm from her touch, even after these two long years she’s been gone. It wasn't.
Most days, I go about my business of living life as it is now, but today ~ well ~ she was right there. Her blue eyes smiling at me, her easy laugh. As the song says “just out of reach of my two empty arms”. And so I think to myself, “will there ever be a day when she doesn't pop in?” and of course, the answer is “I certainly hope not.”
It is two years since my wife was called home to Heaven that comes as a shock to my heart. During this time, I have been asked many times, by many people if I have begun to move on or move forward with my life. It puzzles me as to what this really means. I still have moments where it slams into me that Kelly is truly gone. While my brain knows this, my heart does not accept it. I have carried on, month after month, learning a new life, accepting that my loved one is gone, trying to get past the grief and sorrow.
When I hear people say to just move on, I know they have not gone through the kind of grief that I have. I can't just move on. Actually, I have moved on in lots of ways. Her memory will always be with me, because I loved her and we shared a life. Yes, I can survive. I don't cry every day anymore. I can hold it together most of the time. But then there are those times when her aura surrounds me like a warm hug, and I am forever grateful that she loved me, too. This silver lipstick case is safe and it’s with me, right where it should be.
I talk about or write of my loss, I am just scratching the surface of what I really feel. The grief is so shocking, there are no words to honestly describe what it is, what I am truly feeling. That may be for the best because as I talk to others, they cannot comprehend the small amount of sorrow I share, the true depth would be more than others could take. Many have asked what they could do to help me get beyond this. The thoughts are instant and I am thankful the words do not leave my lips. Can you un-break my heart? Can you give me back my lost one? Can you make me forget? Then I hear the dreaded words, "We want the old you back. It's been a while, why aren't you over this yet? I don't know who you are anymore." Again, I bite my tongue for the truth is more than they can take. This is me now. The old me is gone forever. I will never 'get over it.' Can you un-break my heart?
I am so very tired, deep down to my core, of hearing platitudes that sound like, "Give it time, it will get better." Yes, I realize these words are meant to be comforting. However in reality, they aren't. All such words do is keep me from sharing with you how I am truly faring.
"Give it time." What other choice have I got? Aside from suicide, there is no other choice but to give it time. I can't stop time. God knows I wish I could have just stopped the world for a while so I could catch my breath and get my feet back under me. But I can’t. Life keeps marching on all around me, mostly oblivious to my pain. Friends who had called on me, and asked how I am doing have mostly stopped. Their lives have marched on, leaving me to feel like I should be able to continue, as well. Just stand up, dust myself off, and take that next step. But the loss is still debilitating. The tears are always just beneath the surface, threatening to mar my sad-but-calm mask. Give it time. As if I could do something about it.
"It will get better." Maybe. Probably. Though not in the short span of time you think I should feel better. Years and years down the road, I may find a day when I can think about her, about what we shared, and not have it closely followed by what was supposed to be and the inevitable wave of loss and sorrow. I will never in this life get over her death. I will, eventually, find joy again in living, but not anytime soon.
I heard others say the second year is worse than the first because you are in a fog the first year, the second is only too real. I wasn't in that fog, but they are right, our second anniversary brought me to my knees. The first one after Kelly died was only a couple months after she passed. The shock and disbelief held away at that time. It was a hard, horrible day without relief but I got through it somehow. This second one destroyed me. The emotions were so sudden and unexpected; the dark days in the beginning became child's play in comparison. Nothing before prepared me for this, nothing. I thought I had hit my deepest sorrow during the first year. I didn't, it was waiting for me all this time. I know that it sneaks up on me at any time and any little thing can set it off. I didn't know that it could be almost as bad as the moment she passed, nothing could be as bad as that, but it can almost equal that day. Now that I know, maybe I will be more prepared when our anniversary comes again.
A few weeks after Kelly died, a woman told me that it is up to me to move on and get over it. She said how it was just a matter of doing it. I asked her when did you lose your husband and what bit of magic did she use to 'get over' it. Hmm, she had never been married. She knew a wife that gotten over it just fine. Recently, I met someone who said “they made the choice to not be sorrowful over death since we all die.” They mentioned how they had buried many and they choose to laugh, and smile. They never lost a wife. I hope they never cross that road and find out if their philosophy holds true. Don't misunderstand, if they can do that I am happy for them. They don't realize they are a rare breed. They assume that if they can do that, everyone can. We are each different from the other, so one must learn to be open minded and understand that what one can do, another may not be able to. I hope this person is not in denial themselves, but that this truly works for them.
As days pass into months, and months into years I slowly get my bearings again. I silently congratulate myself with each mile stone I pass, each achievement I make. I think I am healing a little, not much, but a little bit at a time. The firsts have come and gone and I made it though, painfully but still, I made it through. I am still in a minefield of emotions and pain but I am learning where to step to make it less hurtful when things explode around me. I talk to people, I try to conquer the phobias I have developed since Kelly’s passing. I work hard every day just living and breathing. I hold those I love closer because I know the delicacy of life, and how quick it is gone. I have questions that will never be answered and it haunts me in my dreams at times. I have had other losses as well to learn to deal with. The ones who left me because they could not handle my grief or for other reasons. Though all of this, it is still just the surface of the iceberg those around me see for I do not have the words to tell them the whole of it. Grief is hard work, it is exhausting, it is every moment of every day and I don't know if that is forever or not. I don't know if I will heal a little, a lot, or at all. When I fall, I think I have failed and that is how life is going to be.
There will be many things I will try in my effort to accept my loss. Still, my heart will stay in denial for how can one so loved just suddenly... stop. While I move forward and heal in many different areas, this is one area that will forever hold this lasting sorrow. It is not so much a heart in denial as it is the price we pay for love. My wife is gone, everything about her lives on. I still stumble across things that were hers and the memories rush in. You can no easier stop that from happening then you can hold your breath for an hour. For a long time all I could see was Kelly’s face that last time. All I could hear was her voice telling me 'I love you, sweetie.' That’s not as constant now as it was, but it still happens. One learns to expect nothing and accept all. Our world of contradictions.
When the time comes, maybe in months, maybe in years, when I will want things to change, I know that it will never be the same again, how could it? But I want to feel better. Feeling better does not mean I will not still grieve, it means I am accepting the changes in my life and learning to live with them. I think my heart will always be at war with my brain, but they have to co-exist too. Even though my heart does not accept her loss, my brain knows she is gone. Tears fall but there is laughter too. Dreams for our future have stopped, but there are still dreams for others. Scary at first, but that is a part of learning to live again. Giving your love to those that love you. Pushing away the fear that they too will be gone one day. We all will be, it is a fact.
It saddens me that even though we are in the age of knowledge at our fingertips, as I grieve I will be judged. I carry that burden as well. I know, every waking moment that those that have passed and I have loved will never be within my reach again. I know that I need to pay attention to those still here. In time, if given time, I will do just that. In this hurry up world, few want to give that time. The world moves on whether I move with it or not. Time is my enemy for it takes me further away from that last moment of their lives. It also, at the same time, puts a cushion between me and my loss. So while my heart will deny, I still move forward. Too many stay outside of this and believe that all I do is spend all my time in my grief. If only they really knew what I am doing.
I miss Kelly every single day. I do not dwell on it, it just is. I am not ashamed of that. I am not ashamed of the tears. I have done things that others cannot possibly understand, but I know I am doing mostly the right things, what is right for me and those I love. I am an imperfect human and really, not ashamed of that either. I see the world differently and react to it differently. And yes, I am happy with who I am. I do not know where I am going. I do not know which direction is the right direction or if there is even a right direction. Sometimes, I do not care. I do not know how many times I will pick myself up when I have fallen. Falling is the easy part, desire to continue is not. I have to learn to put my fears aside. I have to learn who I am and what I want. I have to learn to stop allowing emotions to have constant rule. So many unknowns in an alien world that was once home.
'Forever a Husband'
