Grief is an experience we all go through – if it hasn’t happened to you yet it’s only a matter of time. Until my forties I had only lost my grandparents, two friends killed in accidents, a few elderly friends and some cherished pets. Then in 2022, my husband died unexpectedly of an undiagnosed medical condition and my world stopped.
The first few days are a blur. Some people keep it together – I mostly did, but some people, like my mother-in-law, fall apart. I was able to talk, to explain to people what had happened and pass on the terrible news, albeit with intermittent bouts of howling. She was unable to speak for a week. This perhaps is the difference between losing a partner and losing a child.
In the days and weeks that followed, three things kept me going. My friends, two of whom moved in with me for a month, my therapist, who I was already seeing when my husband died, and the kitten I had adopted a couple of months before. I highly recommend kittens for grief, as Luna was the only thing that made me laugh for months after that terrible night. Therapy is worth having in your life in any case.
One of the first things people often do when someone very close to them dies is to find a way to blame themselves. If someone dies in a preventable way it is impossible to stop the mind from thinking ‘What if I hadn’t been away? What if I had stopped at home before going to dinner? What if I had made them rebook their annual physical when they missed the appointment?’ This line of thinking will drive you nuts, but it can be very hard to switch off.
I felt a pressing need to preserve everything I had of my husband – Skype conversations, text messages, notes we had left each other. But at the same time, looking at objects he brought into our life and possessions he cherished, even looking at the couch he used to lie on, brought tears and sharp stabs of pain. I found myself unable to rest in the space we had shared, and after a few months I moved to a new apartment. It made it easier to be in my own space without constantly feeling someone was missing. It gave me a new beginning, one in which it felt normal to be alone. I still regret the things I couldn’t save, like his photos, locked away on a cloud drive that we were never able to get access to, and the playlists that we danced to. Fortunately I had over a thousand photos of us together, as well as the many pictures I had taken just of him. I eventually made several hundred of the photographs into an album for his mother, which was healing for both of us.
But despite my already-busy life being full of new tasks, people to call and events to arrange, I felt less able than ever to deal with it all. Having friends on-hand to cook me a meal and clean my apartment for me saved my life, as I spent a huge amount of time just lying in bed staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep, unable to read or concentrate on the
It’s easy to start to make excuses for yourself when you are in that state. You didn’t leave the house today because you are too exhausted. You ordered takeout again because you’re too tired to shop and cook. You didn’t take a shower because it involved getting out of bed, and you weren’t going to make yourself do that today. You deserve another glass of wine because you have just lost the love of your life. This is the opposite of what you need, which is sunlight, good food, companionship and a kitten.
Not everyone has the kind of strong social net that caught me; I was lucky. But there is help out there. A visit to your doctor or a quick search online can lead you to therapists and grief support groups, where you will meet people who understand you, and are able to help you get through the darkness.
Once you’ve gotten used to the grief and a few months have passed, things do start to get a little better. You have entire hours where you don’t think about it, sometimes even several hours, but never a full day. That changes as the years continue to turn, and one day you’ll realize that you haven’t been thinking about them as much as you used to. This doesn’t mean that it is over. Grief will let you feel fine for ages and then sneak up on you with a baseball bat. At times like this, support is essential.
It has been two and a half years for me now. I still carry my husband’s picture in my wallet and keep a sketch of him on my bedside table, but my ring is in my jewelry box and my profile is live on Facebook Dating. I think about him daily, but I’m slowly moving on from my marriage and going, somewhat begrudgingly, back to single life, because he wouldn’t want me to remain forever lonely. It’s different to returning to dating after being widowed because you didn’t break up; they died. They’re not the ex, they’re the late. It’s something for new partners to deal with as well as something you have to bear. But, with grief, the good news is that being able to bear it comes with time.
