Questions

How am I? That is a question I’ve been asking myself lately. In truth, I’m not sure that I know how I am. I do have better days now, though, of course, they are all relative. It’s all a continuum, as what is ‘good’ now, isn’t what ‘good’ was like before, and when it’s bad it can still be terrible. At the moment, it feels as though I have gone backwards somewhat. Some of the time, life just seems dark, with long nights and many, literally, dark days not helping. All those significant dates (see post on 24th Nov) coming up don’t help, either, although I’m beginning to hope / fear that the anticipation is worse than the actual days themselves. Life just feels dark. I am not depressed. I know what that feels like and this is not the same. Yes, I am less raw and, perhaps, I am getting better at carrying my grief but, if I’m honest, it doesn’t really feel any better, my heart is still breaking. 

I find that I can now cope when others ask me how I am, I couldn’t initially, although I still sometimes want to reply “there’s a gaping hole in my heart, how do you think I am?”. I really appreciate people’s care, though, although it is sometimes difficult to know how to reply, but most days I’m able to answer by saying “I’m okay” or “I’m up and down” or “today’s a better / bad day”. I try to be honest, but it can depend on who’s asking and how I think they are going to react. By way of illustration, I came across this quote in a Barbara Pym book. She wasn’t talking about grief, but one of her characters said: 

“I wished now that I hadn’t said anything at all about it, but it was too late and I was punished for my indiscretion and disloyalty by not finding the consolation I had hoped for. What I needed was to be fussed over with loving words and tender gestures...” 

Of course, for me it’s not about indiscretion and disloyalty, it’s about honesty, but sometimes that’s how I feel, and sometimes I don’t share fully as I know I won’t receive the understanding and compassion I need if I’m to bare my soul. I’m aware that that makes me sound needy, but that’s just how it is; what I sometimes really just need is that compassion and comfort. In the past, B would have been there to comfort me but I don’t have that now, and that is why grief feels lonely a lot of the time. So, I am very grateful to those friends who ask and who are empathetic, and who don’t expect me to be better than I am, as it tells me that they care and, perhaps more importantly, that they don’t think I ‘should be over’ B by now. Yes, it’s almost a year and, in some ways, it feels like eons since he was here with me, but in terms of the loss it continues to feel just like yesterday.

Then, there’s a second question I have been asking myself lately, “why can’t I just let go?”. I guess it’s that ‘shitty committee’ inside me telling me that I should be coping better than this by now; if only I could let go, life would be so much better. After all, I don’t want to feel like this, it’s still horrible! And yet I know that my grief is important. If I hadn’t loved B I wouldn’t be feeling like this and, anyway, it just seems too hard, if not impossible, to let go. This made me wonder, though, if I was just not being brave or strong enough (spot the ‘shitty committee’ again – I only noticed this once I had typed it!). It then dawned on me that what ‘letting go’ actually means is to stop grieving. So, actually, to ‘let go’ would be denying my pain and, in the long-term, I know this isn’t helpful. As Julia Samuel says, “Pain is the agent of change”. So, I continue to feel as I feel, whilst knowing that, one day, I will feel happy again and not because I have let B go, but because I am able to carry him with me as I live the rest of my life. 

In truth, I guess what I really want is to be able to control my feelings and to not breakdown in public, and for the people around me to understand what losing a spouse is like but, to be fair, I didn’t understand until it happened to me. Grief is teaching me, slowly, to be okay with my vulnerability, but it’s a hard lesson. I don’t like it, but sometimes I have no choice…