5.21.2020
Nothing truly prepares you for the loss of a loved one, grief will also absolutely change you.
In year two, the fog lifts a bit and the realities of loss take on a different role, that of permanence. I would describe year one as survival, year two is just existing.
What is a new year after loss, when time has merely become a series of emotional benchmarks? And why do I mark each milestone, each first?? Sometimes it feels like torture.
Maybe it is because the first of everything was directed by heavy anxiety. For so many months I was numb. The month before and then the after. So many firsts happened right away.. Father’s Day, your birthday, summer vacations planned a year ahead...it was a lot and it all felt so heavy.
By year two, I would read, people wish and want to think that you are okay. Friends and family who have provided patience and caregiving will see us stepping out into life and assume they can let go of your hand and have you walk through the world on your own. I wanted to believe all of that and them. I could feel the onset of such a reality, but I was so focused on getting through year one, that I chose not to spend time worrying about what was actually ahead.
Despite feeling like my grief is sometimes forgotten, I definitely don’t want to be back to year one (although being quarantined and alone almost makes it feel like year 1 all over again). I don’t want to be the center of attention (never have)and have every conversation focused on my heartbreak or “how I am.” I don’t want to always be thinking about the life I was robbed of, but rather be focused on forming the life I have been gifted with my two amazing boys. I thank you Steve for them every single moment of every day. The 3 of us spent the day together. No work. Skipped school. Unplugged and just shared your love for us and also at “your” beach
I kept hearing and reading, the first year “you are numb, the second year is harder” I thought that could not possibly be true or apply to me because we conquered year one, together. It was shocking to finally understand that statement and realize how true it was. It is terrible and tragic to lose people YOU love. We lose family and friends throughout our life….but to lose THE person, YOUR person that LOVES YOU is where I was hit this year. He loved me. He loved his boys and I did not appropriately anticipate what this loneliness would feel like. It can be suffocating.
But if year one is about survival, year two had to be about endurance.
“I am so much more than just a widow. I'm a thriving independent woman!" That is what I would tell myself and make my mantra.
For those who have lost...I wish I could tell you it gets better. It doesn't get better. YOU get better. I am learning that.
I am no longer trying to live in overwhelm. Things don't feel so out of control. In fact, I have realized that much of my struggle was associated with me trying to control things I had no control over. (That has always been a problem of mine) I've sort of given up on “most” of that. Sort of..
Some things over this last year I can say I am proud of, some ...well…we all have those other days, but all of them are a part of my journey and a part that had to happen for me to be where I am now. We got a dog... yes Steve it happened. I finished two continuing education programs. I am taking on a new role and promotion at work, I’m working on my self-care and the house is sort of put together and maintained well I would say!
Now, today, starting this third year without Steve something happened on the beach this morning, a window to a beautiful blue skied, sunny spring day opened. I felt Steve’s presence. I started to feel better about me. I felt at peace. I watched his boys run around and in and out of the freezing water. Laughing. Smiling. Enjoying being just there.
I so want to be the person I was before this all happened to him, to us. But now, I fully understand that being that person pretty much died with Him but there was a part of me that knew the person I was when I was happy and content with life was still in there and she is ready to come back out.
Year One: Grief walks over you Year Two: Grief walks closely beside you Year Three: You walk over grief
There had to be HOPE.
I did find and feel HOPE today– and it wasn’t in things many groups were telling me to do. I found HOPE by turning my eyes outward instead of inward. So much of the first few months is spent on surviving. I am ready to walk.. or maybe even jog!
Even though I cannot go back and change the circumstances surrounding Steve’s death, I can choose how I plan on moving forward. And, please know that moving forward doesn’t mean forgetting. How could I forget that a piece of my heart is missing? Life will continue whether or not I choose to participate. With my boys. In their eyes. In their decisions. I will choose to find the beauty in each day – despite having been dealt such a crushing blow.
Despite this not being what it was supposed to be or how I imagined our forever after story to tell.
It will not be something that’s done overnight, I know that. It takes practice to get back to your happy. I will Laugh. Get out of the house. Hang out with a friend or coworker(well, after we are allowed). There is no rule that says being widowed means you’re destined to live a life of depression, sorrow and sadness. You did not want that for me and I know I am the one to determine how I want to spend my days and I will and promise to choose happiness! Not only for me but for Aidan and Keiran.
Despite today being an anniversary that makes my heart ache leading up to- we were happy, we were at peace in a place you loved going to. We missed you. We remembered you and we smiled. The boys and I took the day to be together and unplugged.
Steve, we love you and will live our days to make you proud. Always.
Ending the night with the fire pit and some wine to cheers to you!
****Many many thanks to our friends Stacey and Joe for letting us park at the beach house and have a place to change and use a bathroom - it was everything and meant so much to be there - a place Steve loved and always felt at peace.***
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