18 months ago my life changed. 18 months ago my husband died. 18 months ago my world was turned upside down. 18 months ago I became a widow. 18 months ago my husband was gone forever. 18 months ago my husband was never coming back.
Why can’t they see that I did not choose any of this and it will not change?
Why can’t you let me be happy with my life now without feeling bad?
Why’s being happy so bad when my love is gone and new love is here?
Who thinks it’s easy to be a widow so young and want love again?
Why do they judge me when nobody knows the truth about my real love?
One love is gone now, One new love is here to stay this is my new life.
If you don’t like it then walk away from me now I can be happy.
I am going to be joining a grief support group. I had to choose the “loss of a spouse” or “loss of a child” group and chose the “loss of a child” group. I think this has been more difficult to process than losing my husband. Not that either is easy. I began with watching a video by David Kessler. He talks about the five stages of grief. https://www.davidkesslertraining.com/
One of the points David Kessler makes at the beginning of his online webinar really hit home with me, hence why I am sharing. He said that “grief must be witnessed”. My interpretation of this, based on what he said, is only a simplified version: When someone in our life dies, we are devastated, but life around us continues as normal. This is hard to deal with because it doesn’t just move on for us. He told a story about a village, I can’t remember where the story came from, and that if one person died in the village then that night every person in the village would move one item outside their home, so it is noticeable. I am awful at retelling stories! Anyhow, the point of it is that when the grieving person wakes up in the morning, they see all the changes and it says to them that “see, we are all changed by your loss, it is not you alone.”
This whole thing made a big impact on me as I don’t have tons of people to talk to. My husband passed away a year and a half ago, my mother died 25 years ago, my father has dementia, my stepmother won’t talk about death because it is too sad, one of my sisters stopped calling me, and life has just continued for so many people. I left my job and it didn’t seem to bother the school at all that they were losing me. I don’t know what, if any, of my feelings of loneliness are valid or not, but they are here. I thank God for David and Lindsay. I am thankful to all of my friends who have been supportive and have not expected me to “be over it” already. Honestly, it feels like I will never be over it.
Some day I would like to open a local chapter for the group Bereaved Parents. https://grief.com/grief-support-group-directory/loss-child-parents-grandparents/. I know I am not ready now but would like to be helpful to others in the future. Two losses in thirteen months and I feel like a crazy person. The good thing I am learning is that feeling this way is okay, I have a good reason. If you feel like talking or know someone who has lost a spouse or child, pass my name on.
Peace to you all and hopefully this information will help someone else who is grieving.
In 2018, I became a widow. I was told by several people that I would need to get used to my new life. When I heard this, I knew it was true, but it was unfair, because I didn’t choose any of it. In 2019, I lost my son. This was the ultimate game changer. With the help of counseling and the support of loved ones I have come to realize that I need to make choices that are for me! How is this a change? Well, when I look at my past, there is nothing that I regret, and certainly wouldn’t change my marriage or children, but I do see times when I made decisions, not on what I wanted, but on what I felt was “right”.
So, now that I have begun to learn what this means I was actually put to the test a few weeks ago. I was given the chance to possibly get back teaching in a classroom. I was appreciative of the offer and felt good to be asked, but when I thought about it I said to myself, “I don’t want to be in a classroom again.” Since my last teaching job I had told the students I worked with that I was there to stay as a teacher. My students meant a lot to me. That was an honest statement. I told them I would only leave if it were to progress in my career and get an Assistant Principal job or something like that.
When I didn’t go back this past fall, I felt badly. I didn’t tell the kids, I didn’t even know I wasn’t going back. After my son passed I just couldn’t go work with adolescents again. It was too painful. To this day I have always hoped that they knew I wasn’t teaching at another school. So when this opportunity was presented, not only did I not want to be in the classroom again, I thought how much it would hurt those students who I had told I would be there for. I would have felt bad if they learned I was teaching at another school, not with them. I know this is what life is about, and that not all things go the way we plan, but when I declined the opportunity to get back in the classroom, I knew I was making the right decision. I felt good about it for myself, and for keeping my word to those children I hope I have touched in some way.
Slowly, Sybil collapsed into the chair. The tea, made for two, would now be wasted. The flowers, shredded to pieces like her heart. All she could do is sit and stare at the brown liquid in front of her, wondering what she would do next. She was lost without him. He was her life.
“What happened? I don’t understand?” She spoke to him as if he were standing in front of her. There was no answer. He was gone.
She couldn’t weep, couldn’t laugh, couldn’t be angry. She sat, still, empty, alone.
“It has to be here! I know at least one of these photos has her in it.”
Janette had been rifling through boxes and boxes of negatives from the days when cameras used film. She was searching for a picture of her deceased mother. Up until now, Janette mourned her mother’s death by visiting her grave and praying that God would grant her some peace and healing. They weren’t always close but they had just reunited and rejuvenated their relationship; then the sudden illness took her mother from her.
Janette had woken this morning, frantic to see a photo of her mother, feeling grief stricken at the thought that she could no longer remember what her mother even looked like. She had been told the memories are what heals but, “what if there are no memories,” she worried.
As if the photo would bring a piece of her mother back, Janette continued her search, unwilling to terminate her task until she found what she was looking for.