I wish that I could tell you that I knew the secret to living without fear. When you experience loss in your life, the realization that bad things don’t just happen to other people moves to the forefront of your mind. The potential for future losses appears to be multiplied by your experience. You feel that you are doomed so you wait and watch for the next catastrophe. If you wait long enough, a challenge will arise validating all that you believed to be true and you live in a bondage of fear.
But, living with fear prevents us from seeing the goodness of life all around us. We miss the beauty in the world, in people. The lyrical song of the birds is silenced, as is the laughter of children. We miss joy.
But how do we live without fear? Living without fear begins when we take a step forward despite our fear. Each time we do that we begin to realize that life can be redeemed. There is still goodness to be had.
You have not been abandoned, though it may feel that way. Trusting in yourself, family, friends, and in God, will give you all that you need to venture out.
Though you may have experienced loss, you yourself are still alive. Take your first step to a new life.
If you have ever seen a newborn animal struggle to get onto it’s feet, you will begin to understand what life is like after losing your spouse. Unsteady and unsure, you fear that your world will suddenly collapse beneath you and you struggle to maintain your footing. Each step must be intentional.
Even the familiar looks different. Though the people remaining in your life have not changed, relationships and roles may have changed. Who am I now and what is this new life I am living?
Even making a simple decision can be a challenge when you are used to discussing it with your partner. I find myself leaning into my grown children for advice.
Just recently, I planned a trip to visit one of my dearest friends in Florida. It would be a good for me. She knew me well and being with her would be a safe place.
I made all the reservations; plane and kennel for the dog and was very excited.
Then suddenly, I was gripped with an overwhelming sense of fear. Before I knew it, I was cancelling the trip. My friend was very kind and understanding, my frequent flyer miles were returned to my account and the kennel reservation was cancelled without consequence.
As I discussed my sudden change of plans with my younger son, he kindly questioned my decision. Having been a therapist a few years back, he knew exactly what to ask.
“Mom, what are you so afraid of?”
As we discussed my concerns, I told him that I always felt that I could do anything with his dad by my side. His dad made me courageous. Now, I was alone and afraid.
My son’s powerful words quickly changed the course of my new life.
“Mom, you are brave. The courage is inside you. Dad just knew how to call it out.”
That day, I began to realize that though my life does look dramatically different, I am the same person. I just need to learn how to navigate my new life.
The summer after my husband’s first year of law school, we lost our first child. The day before my due date, the doctor discovered that our daughter did not have a heartbeat. Jessica Ryan was born still the next day. We were devastated .
I remember vividly how people responded to our loss. Some people embraced us and shared our tears. Others, very few, said nothing. It wasn’t because they were heartless but because some do not know what to say. They believe mentioning the loss will cause you more pain but it’s just the reverse. Not acknowledging someone’s pain is more hurtful then anything you could ever do.
Many of you know that my husband died four months ago. I am so thankful for the people who have really rallied around our family. Frequent calls, notes, text messages and distance visits have been very comforting. But, once again, there were a few who really didn’t know what to do so they did not respond. So, I thought it might be helpful to talk about how to respond to the grieving.
I once had a person ask me how they could help me. “Share my grief.” I told her. “Be authentic. If you feel like crying, cry. You couldn’t possibly make me sadder than I already am.”
There is something comforting about others expressing their loss. It reminds you that you are not alone.
Supporting a grieving person is really very simple..be present. You don’t have to say something profound. Just listen. Listen to stories. Take time to look at photographs. Give lots of hugs. For goodness sake, don’t make it your personal mission to cheer them up. It only comes across as insensitive and unfeeling. Take your cue from the grieving person.
And…thank you!! Thank you to all of the people who have taken time to share my grief, that have loved and supported me. Your presence in my life is a gift and I will never forget your kindness to our family.
Losing someone you love is a very painful experience. The first few months you live in disbelief, numb and wondering how your completely wonderful life changed so dramatically. But as the numbness wears off, I’m sorry to say, it only gets worse. Your heart begins to feel the depth of the loss and the pain increases. You also begin to recognize that your loss is far greater than you ever imagined.
In his book series, Experiencing Grief, Kenneth Haugk, speaks about secondary losses: “The death of a loved one is inevitably accompanied by other losses.”
So not only do you miss the person, you also miss aspects of the life you had together.
For me personally, I miss my husband and the total of our relationship. We were young when we married, so he knew me better than anyone… and loved me still. We were partners for life. He was my best friend and confidante. Always my greatest fan, he appreciated my sense of humor, laughing at all my jokes…even when they weren’t very funny. He thought I was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. I felt valued and loved.
Along with losing the most special person in my life, my identity has been thrown into question. Our life was intertwined. We were married 43 years; raised children together, grand-parented together. We even worked together for many years. Now, I need to learn who am I without him and that sounds sad and very lonely.
I know I am not the only person to lose a loved one. If you, are experiencing a similar loss, please know that you are not alone. It will take time to adjust to this new life. Be courageous, embrace your feelings completely. Allow the people in your life to support you as you begin to identify your losses. You won’t feel like this forever.
As I stared out the window of the plane, tears welled up in my eyes. This was my first trip since Jim died. I watched couples as they snuggled up close in their seats and smiled. I missed him sitting beside me. I missed laying my head on his shoulder. More tears fell.
Getting the Covid vaccine has given me freedom but now I am forced to face my new life. Everything has changed. What will it look like to live alone? Travel alone? Do everything alone? I was married for so long, I could barely remember when I wasn’t.
I know that many of you understand what I am experiencing. It will be difficult going forward but be patient with yourself. Allow some grace in your life. May God, in His mercy, show us the way.
“It comes to us as a revelation at first— an astonishment— almost an occasion of guilt. We can be happy!”
“Maybe we thought it would not happen, that our life would be forever colored with pain, that no moment would be free if it…”
“One of the things we sometimes fear, needlessly, is that having lost a loved one, we will also lose the memory of them. “
Healing After Loss, by Martha Whitmore Hickman
My husband has been gone for two and a half months now. I remember feeling numb after the long painful illness came to an end. The many years of memories before he became sick were overshadowed by the trauma and I could barely remember our life beforehand.
In search of memories, my children started going through the old photo albums that were packed in dusty boxes in the basement. My husband and I had planned to get the photos digitized but the project was never started.
A few weeks later, my desire to regain my memory of him compelled me to begin the long awaited project. I bought a scanner, and my sister and I removed every photo from the 30+ albums. We scanned them and I saved a few precious ones for new albums that are now sitting on bookshelves in my living room. Though many tears were shed during the process, history was recaptured for me. I am so thankful for that.
We cannot run from grief. I have found that facing it head on has helped me to adjust to my new life. Tears still flow often but I find comfort in reaching out to those that share my grief and long to remember, as well.
Now that people are able to get vaccinated and the cases of the coronavirus are declining, the opportunities are much greater to connect with one another safely. We have really needed community!
But when you experience a tremendous loss in your life, though the transition back into community can be wonderful, it can also be a challenge. Now, you must share your grief with others for the first time. Isolation can sometimes shield us from experiencing the reality of our loss. Community forces us to share it.
Personally, I have found that as I have allowed myself to reenter community, being intentional about seeing “safe” people (vaccinated or those with antibodies to the coronavirus), I am astonished at how encouraged I have been as I share about the loss of my husband. The fear of expressing my extreme grief has been lifted as people share their grief, as well. The remembrances, though accompanied with tears, have been a sweet testimony to my husband’s life. That has been beautiful for me.
I know that many of you have experienced loss over the last year. Allow yourself the freedom to express your true feelings. It’s acceptable to not be okay. Let others help you. The burden is much lighter when we carry it together.
I sit on the shoreline of grief watching the waves.
They vary in their intensity as they cascade over me.
Sometimes they are gentle and fleeting.
Other times, I am so overwhelmed by their power that I feel as if I cannot breathe.
I struggle under their wake for a time and then they return to the sea.
Once again, I feel the warmth of the sun and I am at peace.
Grief is a very difficult and mystifying experience. One moment you are feeling fine, then a person, place, familiar experience, even a song, can prompt a wave of grief that is so intense you feel like you will drown under its influence.
My husband has been gone for almost two months now. Some days it feels like an eternity since I looked into his sweet face. Other days, it feels like only yesterday. I can recall a memory of him and laugh with joy. Then, the next moment, I can be reduced to tears. Such is the nature of grief.
I am certain that many of you understand my words all too well. You are on the shoreline waiting for the next wave, wondering if you will survive it. But, you don’t have to go through grief alone. There are people, family and friends, who would like to be there for you. Find someone you trust and share your heart.
There are also grief counselors available to listen and lend support, as well. I have found that having someone listen and validate my experience has been very encouraging.
If you have had a loss in your life, I am so very sorry. I pray that your heart will be healed and you will experience joy once again…very soon.
As the shroud of darkness begins to rise, a glimmer of light reveals some of the incredible blessings in my life over the last few months; the sweetness of my husband’s hand in mine as we slept, the closeness of his nose to mine, his smile, his words, “I love you.” I am thankful for those tender moments with him.
I am thankful for my sons and how they rose to still my shaky ground. Empowered with a supernatural love, they supported me in amazing ways.
I am thankful for my older son, Jamey, who came to my rescue many times. I remember the night he kindly drove his dad and me down to the emergency room when Jim was in terrible pain. The pandemic prevented us from staying.
I am thankful that when we retuned home, knowing I was upset, Jamey came into my house to make sure I was ok. His presence comforted me.
When, Jim’s illness began to make nights difficult to sleep, Jamey came to spend nights with me. We took turns caring for Jim throughout the night, capturing sleep in another room. I watched as Jamey slept beside his dad, holding his hand so sweetly, just like when he was young.
I am thankful for Jamey’s constant support since his dad is gone; for the home repairs, the tech support, the car advice, the encouragement, the laughter and the love.
You are a kind and gentleman, Jame, and I am thankful that you are my son. I love you!
I am, also, thankful for my younger son, Jeremy. He lives out-of-town and came up for six weeks, with my son-in-law to spend time with and help care for his dad. Though we started having extra care support at night, they were not permitted to give medication. Out of love for me, Jeremy kindly offered to take over the responsibility of Jim’s medications. This required constant monitoring and connection by phone with the on-call nurse throughout the day and the night as Jim’s pain increased. Jeremy set his alarm and every four hours, rose from his sleep to administer his dad’s medication so I could sleep.
I watched as my son, Jeremy, lovingly whispered into his dad’s ear as he cared for him. Sometimes Jim would respond with a smile bringing us to tears.
Thank you, Jer, for the many ways you show love. I love you and all that you are.
As my sons took over much of Jim’s care taking, I was free to be his wife, to sit beside him and hold his hand. I was able to get a little sleep. Though I do confess that I did listen to make sure all was well. I was also free to cry and I did that a lot.
I am thankful for my dear son-in-law, Leandro, who was always nearby to give me a hug and cry with me. He did many dishes during that time and walked the dogs often, among many others things. I am thankful for the many ways he loves our family. I love you!
My sons have been amazing during this time. And though life has had to go back to some sense of “normal”, they remain close. The FaceTime calls and visits have brought more light back into my life.
Three days after my husband died, my older son’s family started with the coronavirus. One by one, the six of them were afflicted over a three week period. It was painful for our family to not be together to mourn.
Finally, after an additional two weeks, my son’s entire family was clear and able to come to my house together. It was glorious. I made chocolate chip cookies beforehand. We had lunch together. Then, we engaged in wonderful conversation while the kids played with my five month old puppy, Bailey. It was a beautiful day.
Then…my three year old granddaughter asked the question … “Where’s Grampa?”
She had not been to our house since he died because she was the last to get the coronavirus. Each of us froze on hearing her question.
My daughter-in-law calmly spoke, “He’s not here.”
The questioning continued, “Where is he?”
“Grampa is in heaven.” She explained.
My granddaughter, who had just turned three, seemed satisfied with the answer and continued to play.
My eyes filled with tears that flooded down into my mask. The reality of the loss was excruciating.
Grief is difficult and unavoidable. Sometimes it just comes out of the blue with an innocent question, a thought, a photo, or a memory. In those moments, give yourself the freedom to embrace all that you are feeling. I am. One day, each tear will be replaced by a beautiful memory.
