This certainly won’t be all-inclusive, but as I reflected on how life has changed since the death of my husband 10 years ago (as well as my brother a short time after that) it felt important to translate some of the emotion and history into tangible words. Here is my attempt to share a bit of knowledge from the pain of my experience of the grief journey.
You can be happy again: I distinctly remember hearing some dang country western love song after Paul’s death and having this fear hit me-what if I’m never happy again?! I was so blessed to have been loved and share life with a man and give birth to our daughter, but what if it’s just more pain and sadness from here?! I’m so grateful that slowly as my heart began to heal (although not before more tragic loss), I would have glimmers of a new and stronger hope. A hope that wasn’t of this world, but one that was beyond my ability to fathom before I knew such pain.
I was also incredibly blessed to be loved by another man. Bryson brought fun and laughter into my life and then two little boys to share even more love and laughter with. Walking into the restaurant with just Syd and me on the night of the 10 year anniversary of my husband’s death I had this thought, “What if… What if I wouldn’t have been remarried? What if it had remained just me and Syd?”
While I would have still been blessed and had good, it was so wonderful to come home from that shared meal with Sydney to a husband who was playful and joking. Also to two little boys who are “too loud” as they read Dinosaur Dig with me on my lap. My heart and my blessings are overflowing… even though for a while it felt as if only the pain would keep me company. There is life after loss. Thank you, God for revealing more blessing after the storm that shook me to my core.
It’s ok to be happy again and not cling to the status of being the bereaved. Going through intense grief, it consumed all of who I was. I had previously identified myself as Paul’s wife and a new mom to Sydney. When my husband died, I didn’t know who I was any longer… in time I began to see myself as Paul’s widow.
I recall making sure to tell people that I was widowed because as a single mom I would spend time wondering what others thought about me. I am blessed to have a new foundation that isn’t constantly changing now. I know that each one of us are a Beloved Child of God. That’s my identity. That’s your identity. Regardless of what we have, what others say about us, or what we do. I have to remind myself of this true identity often, but it is so steady in comparison to these other ways of trying to find a way to be ok in the world. I could only cling to this truth because the foundation I clung to before had crumbled. I only wanted something more because I couldn’t have the comfort of finding my identity as a wife any longer.
You will forever be changed: Now I have the wisdom of 10 years of the grief journey, but there was no way in those early days I could see much of the silver lining. For me, the path to finding joy again was marked with deep sorrow, buckets of tears, and even more untimely loss when my brother Cole also died a few short months later.
How does 10 years go by? How have we lived all this time, and their time on earth just ended? It seems unfair in ways… not for them since I know they don’t carry the pain of this world any longer… just unfair for those who long to be with them again… For my daughter, Sydney who was 5 ½ months old when her dad left this world. She didn’t get to choose… and neither did he. His time on earth was through… and we were left to keep finding a way forward. I questioned God so much over the course of this journey. I was hurting and wanting answers and the answer for me was always His promise that He would “take care of me.” I would lash out with “why this had to happen,” but in time it was this promise that sustained me and help me know who I was in a deeper and more important way.
You will understand other’s pain in ways you just couldn’t before: I remember going through a grief group and looking at the therapist and asking, “how can you do this work?!” Five years later I would take up the professional role of a counselor… Once we’ve traveled our own journey of pain, we can not only appreciate other people’s journey in new ways, but we can be a light in their darkness, even without words. Just by the reality that we’ve survived such darkness of our own. You don’t need to be a counselor or in any profession to live this, your light shines when you’ve discovered you can survive trials.
There is a core belief for me that the only way out is through. I know through sucks, but so does staying in the yuck. I show up as a professional and in my personal life because it’s so important people can find a ray of hope as they continue to find a way through the rubble of whatever heartaches they are facing.
While I’d never ask for the pain of grief, I wouldn’t want to be the person I was before grief… before my husband’s death… before my brother’s death: Grief has changed me. I don’t get to be the naïve young woman who was widowed at 25 years old any longer. For this I am grateful. I perhaps am drawn to those who know their brokenness. We are all broken in our own way. For those who are humble and able to recognize the broken pieces, or perhaps like me couldn’t find any way not to see them, You are LOVED! We don’t have to BE, DO, or HAVE anything. We just simply get to be loved.
When we release the grip on making ourselves be somebody, and instead embrace that we have had this Belovedness all along…we find ourselves letting go of all these things we used to have to hold ourselves up with… and now can instead be embraced. With love, grace, and more love. At times we can just allow ourselves to cry and be held. All this is a gift. A gift that only comes, however with the “gift” of brokenness. Thank you, Paul for loving me and thank you God for breaking me. Use me. Through You I am restored and can bring a message of true hope. You give life. I am loved and You will continue to take care of me.
I’m not in control-there’s freedom in letting go and living one day at a time, but you’ll likely never know unless you are forced to live in this way.
Intense grief still happens. My grief journey has drastically transformed over the years. However, there are still times of the year that I can anticipate grief will again visit me more pronounced than it generally is after years of healing. Hitting year 10 seemed big to me. I looked at my daughter and had discussions and shared tears. She’s able to comprehend in new ways what she doesn’t have since her biological father left this world. I grieve that she only gets to know about him from others and doesn’t have personal memories of interactions with him.
These times of more intense grief do not mean I’m somehow “getting it wrong.” It simply means when someone we love leaves this world, we will long for them. Another thing I learned from my personal journey in counseling is that we hurt so much because we loved so much. It sucks to hurt so deeply, but I would have never wanted to miss out on the love I had with Paul and the beautiful daughter I was blessed with because of our time together.
I am grateful. It’s an odd thing to say maybe, but again I wouldn’t want to be the person I was before Paul died. I am grateful that he chose to love me. I’m grateful that I get to embrace his and my daughter still. I am grateful that I was given another chance to share love again and have two more rambunctious and wonderful boys. I’m grateful for life. With its pain and its joys it has taught me so much. I only hope the pain I endured can bless another on their broken road to healing.
Blessings and prayers to you wherever you find yourself in your journey today.
~MM
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