It’s strange how you can be moving right along, dealing with life well, happy even, and then BAM! It jumps out of nowhere and squeezes the air right out of your lungs. That’s grief as I approach the three-year mark. Most days I’m doing really well. Incredible, really as I think back to what year one was like. But it never ceases to shock me when something happens that pulls me back into the depths of grief. It doesn’t hold me there for as long as it used to, but it still has great power of me sometimes.
This time, it happened at my son’s first band concert last week. It was an exciting and happy occasion as we celebrated his instrumental debut as a percussionist.
I expected smiles and restrained giggles from myself as the slow-tempo, intonation-challenged beginner band performed, but I did not expect the emotion that came after they completed one of their songs.
Just as the director motioned the finish to their last note of the song, a Dad in the audience made a loud, finger whistle and Whoop! Whoop! Demonstrating his pride for his son or daughter. In a flash, tears were streaming silently down my face as I remembered my husband doing such amazing yet embarrassing Dad-like proud gestures of support just like that. I then realized this was yet another first he wasn’t here to experience. And that my son did not have the opportunity to have his Dad in the crowd to finger whistle his support.
I didn’t approach the band concert with any of these thoughts in my mind, and yet, it kicked me in the gut as I sat there. Then came the realization that there will continue to be “firsts” even though we survived year one without him. It turns out there’s a new first around every bend. It isn’t just the first year that holds the firsts. It’s forever, I think. The first school dance, the first day of middle school, the first day of high school, the last day of high school, graduation, the first driving lesson, the first day of college, the first proposal, the weddings, the babies, and so on and so on. I didn’t realize this until now and I am not pleased with this new revelation.
This is where all the people concerned we are stuck in our grief just don’t get it. How can we escape it? We can’t. We can be doing really well, navigating life after loss in the most emotionally healthy ways, and yet we will still feel our loss. Some days maybe its weight is light to carry, but other times it can be too heavy to bear. We can’t always predict when, where or how long this lasts, we just work on getting better at getting through it.
My mind always provides corny visuals for these things. I can’t help it. Bear with me as I describe the scene I’m imagining. This time, I’m visualizing what it’s like when you’ve stepped in deep, thick mud. It can be a struggle to free your foot from the sludge that has you trapped. Eventually we break free and continue to walk forward, but there’s still mud clinging to our boots. The farther we walk, the mud begins to dry and may even break off a little, but we are still carrying where we’ve been with us.
Dumb analogy, maybe, but I find myself needing a way to understand how I can be doing so well and then out of nowhere, get stuck in it again. I guess I’ve been thinking that grief is something you “heal” and “move on” from. Probably because that’s what other people tell us. Ironically, usually from people who have not experienced loss in the same way as you. That’s messed up. We don’t need the expectations of others to add to the pressure we put on ourselves as we are trying to navigate the life ahead of us. Seriously.
I just want you to know that. I want you to know that I, too, am not “over it.” I’m not stuck in grief; it’s stuck on me! Usually I do a very good job of lugging it around, but sometimes it grabs onto a leg and sucks me down, trapping me for a little bit. So what? We’ll keep moving forward as soon as we can.
Psalm 40:2 (NIV)
2 He lifted me out of the slimy pit,
out of the mud and mire;
he set my feet on a rock
and gave me a firm place to stand.
Extra grace through all the mud,
Jodi
I had the same realization when I saw my grandchild’s heartbeat in the sonogram for the first time a few weeks ago. What a wonderful gift from God I am getting, my first grandchild. But when I was leaving the office, I broke down thinking I am going to a grandparent without him. We were supposed to grandparent together and be fun grandparents that spoil. But I thought with great joy that my husband has already met all my future grandchildren and knows each one of them. So in a small we are grand parenting together.
thank you so much. this comes at just the right time as something hit me recently, like a ton of bricks. my husband passed last year. and this more recent ‘ton of bricks’ sent me right back to what i felt last year when he passed away.
i wish people could understand. i wish there was no judging. i wish i didn’t feel the need to explain and be better understood by those who just don’t get it. but most friends DO get it and are supportive. i just have to let go of the need to always be understood by all, all the time. i have to accept what i’m doing is ok, for me, at whatever time i’m doing it.
Well said
Eloquently written, Jodi. Love the analogy and find it enlightening. Thank you for sharing. You are such a blessing!
Jodi, thank you for putting into words what I could not express. Your visual is perfect, and your words are always healing for me. Thanks for helping us understand and accept where we are.
Jodi — Thank you for helping me to articulate to myself some struggles I’ve been having lately. I’m more than 3 1/2 years out, and it isn’t the grief so much that hits me, it is the never ending fix-its, the snow shoveling, the trying to figure out a new normal for things like Christmas, birthdays, etc. My grown daughter with disabilities lives with me, so our day-to-day life hasn’t changed dramatically — we still cook dinner and I have someone to go places with and to talk with (although I don’t talk with her about these kinds of struggles as it isn’t something she can understand!). I have been struggling with having to make the decisions and do the paperwork for my daughter’s future by myself and she has been having some issues that we are now seeing a doctor about and it is hard not to have someone to discuss those with — even though my husband usually told me that my concerns were all in my head (even though more than once when my Mom-radar was on alert, there were some significant things going on!) But I had a sinking spell at Christmas and realized that it was because I was trying to make Christmas like it used to be when all my family was around and we had big family gatherings, visited all day, cooked a big meal, etc. My brother and nephew are the only other family members still left and they aren’t interested in visiting all day or the old-fashioned kind of family gatherings. I did invite a couple friends to share Christmas dinner so that there were six of us and some conversation that didn’t involve football and skiing (which is all my brother and nephew want to talk about!) After Christmas Day I realized that I have to figure out a “new normal” for what we do on the holidays and create some new traditions (and that doesn’t have just to do with the fact that my husband is no longer here, but that we no longer have grandparents, great-grandparents, aunts and cousins here to be included.) The first year we went to my cousin’s in Florida, and it was a good way to bridge the first Christmas and really helped both my daughter and I. But it was awkward because we don’t know my cousin’s wife and family very well and they didn’t understand why we needed to be away from home at the holidays, nor have they spent enough time with my daughter to understand and accept her disabilities. (And we haven’t been invited back to visit them since which has been hard because he is the only close cousin that I have.) So my goal this year is to find a new norm for the two of us, nurture friendships so that there are people in our lives to spend time with, and find a handyman service so I can stop stewing over all the fix-its that I can’t do myself!
Jodi, thank you so much, once again, for your heartfelt words and complete honesty. I have just gone through a year of “firsts” without my sweet Mama. I have felt all the things you spoke of: feeling like I was handling it all well; then out of the blue comes all of the emotion of yet another “first” I hadn’t experienced before without my mom. I know that I will see her again one day, but it truly helps in knowing that you and others are out there doing life in the best way we know right now and that God is with us through it all. I appreciate you and your encouraging words more than you know. Thank you.
Jodi, thank you for sharing. I feel I am not alone in this. Sometimes I feel I don’t have a present, and certainly not a future. Sometimes I feel I am doing fine, and suddenly out of the blue sadness traps me. I will never see unconditional love in my husband’s eyes again, at least not in this life.
Thank you for this as for today marks one yr exactly that my husband who was only 51 died suddenly while on a treadmill with a heart attack…the thought of that night forever engrained in my mind …there are times it feels like it just happened then there are times it feels like it’s been forever since I’ve seen his face …I recently went through the first Thanksgiving which was always a special Holiday then my mom died unexpectly on Dec 1 st so going through Christmas this year without either one of them was almost to much to bare …I am going to try this year to get back in church and get back in activities along with my children to hopefully keep me busy and to have something to keep my mind off of the other stuff …these words from you have helped me along the way ..just know that …Thanks for everything
Thank you. Today was a rough day for me. Who am I kidding, every day has been difficult. It has only been 6 and a half weeks since I became a widow. Yesterday was the first time I checked the widow box on a form since I was granted this title.
Jodi,
Hi, know that I think of you often and also the kids! I can feel your struggles through your words! Loss is a huge
feeling! I have not lost a spouse but I truly have lost some best friends, and yes there is always another first that brings me to tears and makes me miss them oh so much! Nothing can replace them, all we have is the memories, thankful for them, but the memories don’t always comfort sometimes those dear memories make us miss them all the more! Thinking of you and hope things will get much easier as time goes by! Love, Karen