They say grief comes in waves, yesterday was a big wave.
It was a hard day. As fate would have it, I was alone most of the day as Devin was visiting a friend and that was probably for the best as it allowed me space to deal with issues and emotions unfettered.
I had taken the day off from work because I had to call social security and the hospital and several other entities that can take up more than a lunch or ten-minute break would allow. It was also the day of Ted’s cremation and I felt like it might be a harder day and work wasn’t the place to process those emotions.
I couldn’t have been more right. The finality of it hit hard. It was so akin to the same feelings I had when Mom died and they closed the casket. I can remember feeling that my connection was somehow severed when that casket was closed. To not be able to see Mom again – even her dead body was comfort to me – and to have her closed away was too much. I honestly remember thinking that given the option, I would have had her stuffed and put somewhere that I could at least see her and have her near. That same feeling washed over me yesterday in the knowledge that Ted’s body was now also gone to me.
Just like when it happened with mom, the tears flowed. The hurt and pain of the loneliness were palpable. Spiritually, I know I don’t need the presence of a body to be connected, but viscerally, I want the face to look at, the arms to hold, and the touch and smell of the person. I wonder if tears flow so that the uncontrolled part of ourselves emits what we cannot say, and joins the atmosphere where we are so loved, and thus somewhere deep inside we know the flow of connection is still strong and always will be. Anyway, that’s my theory and I’m sticking to it.
Oh, and just so you know, lots of tears can be generated and sent down the cheeks while on hold with the social security office. Time well spent.
There will be more hard days, but that one is behind me. The sun will be up soon with a new promise of life to be seen, experienced, wondered about, and enjoyed.
Thanks for listening.
6 thoughts on “A Big Wave”
Sally my heart hurts for you and I know you are right there will be more days like yesterday. My pray for you is that you will enjoy more good days of wonderful memories of Ted and less of the loss. I shared your emotion when my mother passed and they closed her casket I thought I was going to panic…it is a devastating feeling. Hope today is a better day….
It does come in waves my dear friend. I would like to say that they go away but they don’t. It will be 7 years in February since my husband transitioned. It’s a hole we will bare until we meet them again. Cry, scream, laugh when you can. It’s ok not to be ok. Know you aren’t alone. Hugs and much love to you my friend. Here for you always. Laurie
I’m so sorry Sally.
Sad, true and beautiful all at once. Except the Social Security part — they’re not even cute.
Such a very difficult time and a really bad day. Sending hugs
It’s so true that you need some time alone to grieve. I know healing is a process and you’re going for that roller-coaster ride. Take that time you need for yourself, but I’m so glad that you have Dev with you so that you can lean on each other as needed. You’re in my thoughts always. Much love