I like your last two sentences--"Celebrate the clearings when you reach them and if you’re still waiting, be encouraged./One is coming. " Thank you. My husband of 36 years died five months ago today, on our 36th wedding anniversary. I'm still waiting for the clearing. I've heard people say grief is not linear, that it ebbs and flows, and it's different for everyone. I miss him more today than when he died. I'm remembering now the man who taught my son (his step-son) to swim on a Disneyland trip; the crazy guy who just ran into the cold water of Puget Sound to swim; the gardener who grew the best tomatoes (especially his cherry ones), how he held our daughter so tenderly when she was born, the gruff football coach, the funny guy who came out of Fred Meyer with his jeans pulled up and his hat pulled down with a goofy face, the tough-as-nails grievance chair, the guy who liked musicals more than I, the father who drove his daughter 100 miles (ONE way) twice a week when she was a senior to practice with her college soccer team, the waterskier, the swimmer. My son says that since I was taking care of him for so long, I never grieved those parts of him. I think he's right. But I'm still waiting for the clearing. Will let you know when it happens. Because "one is coming." I believe you. Thanks John.
Thank you for sharing this, Jennifer. I can't fathom the sense of loss you feel. Those beautiful memories you shared are only a few in the nearly infinite you and your husband created over 36 years. There is simply no way the human heart can acclimate in a few short months to this new reality, and honestly you'll never be the same that is a testament to how love has altered you. I hope the coming days and weeks and months that unfold will help you find those moments where healing and gratitude surprise you. Peace, today.
I like this concept very much. Hope as a “grief clearing” stands out for me. I have clung to hope since the early days of my bereavement. Hope that while my life will never be the same, I (and my children) will find joy again while honoring my husband’s legacy.
A friend repaired a piece of equipment for me this week - as I expressed my appreciation he said to me “you know (my husband) would do anything to help anyone, I want to carry on his legacy.” I was so proud - I miss him so very much yet he is so present at times.
Thank you for sharing, Susan. Hopeless is not an option. The greatest tribute we can offer to those we love who are no longer here is to embody the best of who they were and perpetuate them where we go.
Oh that whole legacy thing means so much! At my husband's memorial, a couple of people told me they wanted to carry on his legacy as a judge. I was so touched.
I'm 63 with a pancreatic cancer diagnosis. My Dad and I have always had a tumultuous relationship. I adored my Mom and I grew up watching him not treat her well. When he remarried at 83 after Mons death, I was furious. I have refused to return to their house for 7 years with another woman there. I didn't want the memory of moms house replaced by this woman. I was also very judgemental she didn't share with my Dad her kids were felons in their 50s. I was scared for Dad's safety. Dad has been scammed out of money by a well known investment firm. He came this week to my home for help. He's almost 90. I grieve all the years I was stubborn. He was just lonely and basically stalked dozens of women until one said " I do". He had to be married. I hugged him for the longest time. I held his now frail body and broken soul. I didn't want him to leave. I told him I would come to his house with his wife. It was never about Dad really but my Mom. I loved her more than anyone. She was my rock . My Dad told me I was still his little girl and I sobbed.
Oh, Teresa. I am so very glad that you and your dad have found each other one again. I'm so sorry for all the pain, loss, and illness - but I rejoice with you at this grief clearing.
Thank you for your vulnerability, Teresa. The difficulty of this life is that each day is a day we've never been to. It's impossible to know in real-time how to respond to so many emotional crises and challenges. The best we can do is make the wisest decision we can in the moment and forgive ourselves when we feel we missed the mark or choose poorly. As old as we get we will forever be the children of our parents, and we'll always be trying to figure out how to hold the flaws and failings of people we once thought had done. I'm hoping you have found a bit of clarity and peace. Please keep me posted on your progress with your diagnosis.
Thank you so much. My dad died 1.5 years ago after an incredibly brief episode of, ultimately, a-fib, 25 years after a 7-way bypass. (Genetic, not lifestyle.)
One week each of hospital and hospice house, that was all.
My mom died in August, after ten years of dementia and eight months on hospice.
Your post is balm, real healing. The world is less-than, but I am so grateful for the clearings.
I'm grateful that you have found some encouragement in these words.
My father's passing was a completely shock and as you know, the suddenness and unexpected nature of his passing left me completely unprepared. Though, I do find gratitude that for nearly all his life (and until the end) he was himself.
The bottom line is that whether sudden or protracted, there is no good way to lose someone we love.
Today is my 15th Monday without my dear husband, Tom. When people ask how I am, I always answer, "it sucks but I'm okay." Some days less okay than others, but.... I surprised myself by laughing out loud at a British TV show, Taskmaster, last week. That was a bit of a clearing. And while I am utterly BATHED in gratitude for what we had, as we married late in life and I knew every day of our 15 years was a gift, hope is hard to come by. After Tom died, I finally began a long-planned big outdoor reno project. Spending that much money by myself made me really nervous. But it will yield 600+ square feet of new flower beds to plant in Spring so isn't that a sign of hope?
The whole timeline of grief is so personal and subjective. Your post made me realize that I'm kind of buoyant...I WANT to rise to the surface, I DO NOT LIKE BEING UNDERWATER. I adore my husband; his death has left a million holes in my life and I want him to come back for me right now. But until he does, there are Christmas cookies to bake and a new nursery catalog arrived and flower beds to plan. I'm grieving and honoring him by doing stuff I loved doing and stuff he was so proud of me doing well. It's not how everyone handles grief and I am afraid I'll be judged for it.
Dottie, I am so very sorry you are having to navigate this new road but grateful you are finding ways to continue celebrating Tom and perpetuating him and the love you have shared together. That's what we do as survivors, we make sure the world feels and knows those we've lost, through our lives. Though loss is universal, our expressions of grief are singularly ours. There is no wrong way to mourn those we loved intimately. Be encouraged.
I like your last two sentences--"Celebrate the clearings when you reach them and if you’re still waiting, be encouraged./One is coming. " Thank you. My husband of 36 years died five months ago today, on our 36th wedding anniversary. I'm still waiting for the clearing. I've heard people say grief is not linear, that it ebbs and flows, and it's different for everyone. I miss him more today than when he died. I'm remembering now the man who taught my son (his step-son) to swim on a Disneyland trip; the crazy guy who just ran into the cold water of Puget Sound to swim; the gardener who grew the best tomatoes (especially his cherry ones), how he held our daughter so tenderly when she was born, the gruff football coach, the funny guy who came out of Fred Meyer with his jeans pulled up and his hat pulled down with a goofy face, the tough-as-nails grievance chair, the guy who liked musicals more than I, the father who drove his daughter 100 miles (ONE way) twice a week when she was a senior to practice with her college soccer team, the waterskier, the swimmer. My son says that since I was taking care of him for so long, I never grieved those parts of him. I think he's right. But I'm still waiting for the clearing. Will let you know when it happens. Because "one is coming." I believe you. Thanks John.
Thank you for sharing this, Jennifer. I can't fathom the sense of loss you feel. Those beautiful memories you shared are only a few in the nearly infinite you and your husband created over 36 years. There is simply no way the human heart can acclimate in a few short months to this new reality, and honestly you'll never be the same that is a testament to how love has altered you. I hope the coming days and weeks and months that unfold will help you find those moments where healing and gratitude surprise you. Peace, today.
I like this concept very much. Hope as a “grief clearing” stands out for me. I have clung to hope since the early days of my bereavement. Hope that while my life will never be the same, I (and my children) will find joy again while honoring my husband’s legacy.
A friend repaired a piece of equipment for me this week - as I expressed my appreciation he said to me “you know (my husband) would do anything to help anyone, I want to carry on his legacy.” I was so proud - I miss him so very much yet he is so present at times.
Thank you for sharing, Susan. Hopeless is not an option. The greatest tribute we can offer to those we love who are no longer here is to embody the best of who they were and perpetuate them where we go.
Oh that whole legacy thing means so much! At my husband's memorial, a couple of people told me they wanted to carry on his legacy as a judge. I was so touched.
I'm 63 with a pancreatic cancer diagnosis. My Dad and I have always had a tumultuous relationship. I adored my Mom and I grew up watching him not treat her well. When he remarried at 83 after Mons death, I was furious. I have refused to return to their house for 7 years with another woman there. I didn't want the memory of moms house replaced by this woman. I was also very judgemental she didn't share with my Dad her kids were felons in their 50s. I was scared for Dad's safety. Dad has been scammed out of money by a well known investment firm. He came this week to my home for help. He's almost 90. I grieve all the years I was stubborn. He was just lonely and basically stalked dozens of women until one said " I do". He had to be married. I hugged him for the longest time. I held his now frail body and broken soul. I didn't want him to leave. I told him I would come to his house with his wife. It was never about Dad really but my Mom. I loved her more than anyone. She was my rock . My Dad told me I was still his little girl and I sobbed.
Oh, Teresa. I am so very glad that you and your dad have found each other one again. I'm so sorry for all the pain, loss, and illness - but I rejoice with you at this grief clearing.
Thank you for your vulnerability, Teresa. The difficulty of this life is that each day is a day we've never been to. It's impossible to know in real-time how to respond to so many emotional crises and challenges. The best we can do is make the wisest decision we can in the moment and forgive ourselves when we feel we missed the mark or choose poorly. As old as we get we will forever be the children of our parents, and we'll always be trying to figure out how to hold the flaws and failings of people we once thought had done. I'm hoping you have found a bit of clarity and peace. Please keep me posted on your progress with your diagnosis.
Thank you so much. My dad died 1.5 years ago after an incredibly brief episode of, ultimately, a-fib, 25 years after a 7-way bypass. (Genetic, not lifestyle.)
One week each of hospital and hospice house, that was all.
My mom died in August, after ten years of dementia and eight months on hospice.
Your post is balm, real healing. The world is less-than, but I am so grateful for the clearings.
Thank you, Beth.
I'm grateful that you have found some encouragement in these words.
My father's passing was a completely shock and as you know, the suddenness and unexpected nature of his passing left me completely unprepared. Though, I do find gratitude that for nearly all his life (and until the end) he was himself.
The bottom line is that whether sudden or protracted, there is no good way to lose someone we love.
Peace to you, on your journey.
Today is my 15th Monday without my dear husband, Tom. When people ask how I am, I always answer, "it sucks but I'm okay." Some days less okay than others, but.... I surprised myself by laughing out loud at a British TV show, Taskmaster, last week. That was a bit of a clearing. And while I am utterly BATHED in gratitude for what we had, as we married late in life and I knew every day of our 15 years was a gift, hope is hard to come by. After Tom died, I finally began a long-planned big outdoor reno project. Spending that much money by myself made me really nervous. But it will yield 600+ square feet of new flower beds to plant in Spring so isn't that a sign of hope?
The whole timeline of grief is so personal and subjective. Your post made me realize that I'm kind of buoyant...I WANT to rise to the surface, I DO NOT LIKE BEING UNDERWATER. I adore my husband; his death has left a million holes in my life and I want him to come back for me right now. But until he does, there are Christmas cookies to bake and a new nursery catalog arrived and flower beds to plan. I'm grieving and honoring him by doing stuff I loved doing and stuff he was so proud of me doing well. It's not how everyone handles grief and I am afraid I'll be judged for it.
Dottie, I am so very sorry you are having to navigate this new road but grateful you are finding ways to continue celebrating Tom and perpetuating him and the love you have shared together. That's what we do as survivors, we make sure the world feels and knows those we've lost, through our lives. Though loss is universal, our expressions of grief are singularly ours. There is no wrong way to mourn those we loved intimately. Be encouraged.