Maybe I was getting a little arrogant. Last week was so very good - I enjoyed meals with friends, had a fabulous time at the concert, work was good and I felt that I had made it over a huge hurdle. Vern is always in my thoughts but I wasn’t feeling quite as sad … I was able to be fully supportive of others who were grieving … I enjoyed normal conversations … I no longer had to push my true feelings aside. It felt really good.
… and then this week arrived. It seemed everywhere I turned something brought me to tears. A song, an innocent comment from someone, something I read, a memory, yet another Father’s Day ad on TV, even my Blackberry did it to me! Good grief! Well, maybe not so good.
I guess this was just a reminder that my grief journey isn’t anywhere close to being over. How foolish of me to even consider that it was. It will be filled with ebbs and flows, ups and downs, good days/weeks and bad. And that’s ok. When the tears come I’m comfortable in just letting them flow. These emotions need to come out … they’re cathartic … part of the process. My life has changed dramatically. 41 years as Vern & Dianne. That’s gone now. I’m alone and it will be 9 months next week.
Some widows have said that those of us who are older and had many years with our loves are luckier, that our grief isn’t as big as theirs, that we will heal faster. I do not agree. I would never say my grief is worse … I am so very strongly against making any comparisons when it comes to grieving. Our marriages were unique, our losses were unique, as is our grieving and healing. There’s nothing good or lucky in this for any of us.
One of my tear triggers this week was a line from an old Grey’s Anatomy show that someone shared online: “I wasn’t done loving him yet.” Wow. So true - whether you had 4 months or 41 years.
