After he was gone: Right between the eyes

fist

Some days you think everything is o.k. Then it hits you right between the eyes. Bam!

My inner voice asks, What was that? I thought I was fine. I start to cry. I pull out my phone to see if it’s the date. The eighth of every month is an anniversary that my mind never forgets. But that’s not today. Maybe it’s a reminder that it’s coming s00n. Maybe it’s just me having a bad day.

Then I think of the times when I felt all alone, desperate and forlorn. I don’t always feel that way now. I am better, or am I? I’m always second guessing myself.

And the roller coaster ride continues. Up, Up, Up, then, out of nowhere, the enormity of everything that happened comes flooding back, playing over and over and over in my head. I pass by the hospital he died in and I turn away. Everything is a reminder. How come no one else feels this? Down, Down, Down.

Clown SmilingIt’s not a good day to teach. I have to put on my Happy Face. I can’t paint it on like Ronald McDonald. And, anyway, his is a clown’s face and it’s just plain scary. Mine is a sad face that I cover up with a fake smile.

I talk but my words are jumbled. I try to put an idea forward and get confused; another lapse into widow brain. I’m hot and embarrassed. I want time to fast forward and it does, only slowly not fast, but at least it’s moving forward. I get through it. They don’t know. It’s just me.

Everything feels tainted today. When it happens I know I have to ride it out. This is how grief works. You try to get around it but it grabs you and throws you against the wall, or hits you between the eyes. Bam!

I can’t forget him. I don’t want to. And though I wish I could get off, these roller coaster days aren’t over yet. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Now I am…who am I? I am trying to find out, one day at a time.

11 comments
  1. Suzanne, I ‘liked’ this because you were so honest, because you sharing might help someone who is ‘finding their new normal,’ and also, because it helped me. I miss Larry every day. It’s been a year since his death, and he was a good friend I’d only known for five years, so it’s not at all like you losing your husband. But it still hurts, and I still feel his absence every day. It’s a big gaping hole in my life. I lost another friend to a brain tumor about 20 years ago, and that still aches – but less. I just wanted you to know that I do believe that the pain never goes away, but we find new and better ways to deal with it, over time. So hang in there. You are not alone.

    • Thank you for your comments and support, Heather. I still remember posting on Facebook that I needed one more person to get 200 Friends and you told Larry to ask me to be his friend. I enjoyed his posts and he was very supportive. I’m just sorry I never had a chance to meet him in person. No one’s grief is greater, bigger or more important than anyone else’s. Grief is painful and individual because we are all different people with different relationships with different people. My heart goes out to you for all your losses. Hugs.

  2. As much as I hated hearing it, it is still early days for you Suzanne. At the time all I could think was, “but its already been “_” long!”. It is never long enough for grief to disappear. You are changed by it forever. It has been over 6 years for me, but I know it will always touch me in some ways. Here is just another reminder from my own life to share with you. Don’t know if it helps or hurts, but know that you are not alone – http://awriterstake.wordpress.com/2014/02/04/rewriting-me/

    • Katherine, that was amazing! You have really honed your writing. Such a thoughtful, powerful piece of writing. Thank you for sharing it, and your story of loss. I felt what you felt. I feel it every day. And you give me hope that some day I too may feel like I have come through the grief, though it never truly goes away. Hugs.


      • Thank you Suzanne. Your words mean so much to me. And you WILL turn around one day and be able to look back at what this time has meant to you. The hurt will always be there, but at some point you will see more love than anything.
        Hugs right back

  3. I wish I could say something eloquent that would make you feel better, but it’s impossible. Grief is such an incredibly lonely emotion. I hope tomorrow will be a better day for you. Sending you long-distance hugs, Suzanne.

    • Thanks Cynthia. I write just to get it out from inside me. I wait to see if it passes. If not, I have to write it out to help me ride it out. No one can make it better. Just listening/reading helps too. Hugs back!

  4. This is all normal, dear heart. It’s been two years for me, and I go along quite calmly most of the time and then, as you say, BAM! Right between the eyes. It takes my breath away. It was amplified by Mum’s passing two weeks ago, but now I’m back into what passes for equilibrium for me. It is getting better for you–you’re a strong person, and being frank enough to talk it out here is excellent. I’m proud of you and sending hugs from snowy Nova Scotia! xo

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