It’s inevitable that over time, people will want and need you to be doing and feeling well. And when that time comes, even if it’s mostly true, it will feel untruthful to say it. That’s because even when we are mostly doing well, we know that later today, tomorrow, next week or next month we will still have moments that make us hurt so deeply.
Rather than explain the complex patterns of grief to the caring people observing how well we are doing, we just agree. It may be true that we are mostly doing very well, but it feels scary and lonely to agree because we know it isn’t how we feel every day. We know grief still sneaks up on us even when we appear to be doing well. It isn’t worth the awkward explanation of how grief comes and goes and probably always will, so we just put on our strong, brave face and agree, because it’s just easier. “Yep, we are doing ok!”
The problem is, this leaves me feeling lonely with my grief because we aren’t actually doing ok all the time. Sure, there are more really good days now than not, but we never know when it’s going to resurface and smother us all over again.
Last weekend I ran to Target for something. While I was there, I stopped to look around at the dollar section, because, duh, it’s required. While looking at fabric pumpkins, I was overcome with the strong fragrance of a freshly brewed vanilla latte from Starbucks. I know the scent well. When I turned around I saw a young husband and wife, each with coffee in hand.
The thick, tight knot began to form in my chest and moved its way up to clench my throat as I remembered “date nights” with my husband at Target. He’d go get our vanilla lattes while I looked in the dollar section. And then we’d slowly walk through the aisles picking up the items from our list. Time together. A required task we tried to turn into a date.
They were simple dates. Ordinary moments we claimed as ours without the kids. These everyday moments are what I miss the most. I wanted to grab the hands of that young couple in Target and tell them how very important it is to have these coffee/Target dates with one another. I wanted to tell them to cherish these seemingly insignificant times because one day it will be the things they miss most! But, I resisted being a weirdo widow at the Dollar Spot. Instead, I quickly left the area, now carrying the unexpected sadness that found me there.
People don’t actually ask me if I’m doing ok anymore, instead they observe it. “It looks like you’re doing well!” It’s a statement and not a question now. Rather than tell them all about the Target Dollar Spot moments that still choke the air out of me, I just agree with them. Yes, I’m doing well. I usually throw in a “mostly” just so it doesn’t feel like a total lie. Also, I guess I want them to know it will never be 100% ok, without having to actually say those pathetic words.
Saying we’re doing well is mostly the truth, but I’m pretty sure as long as I’m living there will be recurring, yet always unexpected moments that re-shred my heart. It’s not very acceptable or comfortable for people to not be doing well at this point, so I’ll just agree with them. It will make them feel better and it will move us all past the awkward interaction faster.
I’m glad we appear ok. No one wants to appear not ok. And yet, both of those responses feel false. Yes, we are doing well doesn’t feel totally honest, but neither does we are NOT doing ok. The long, complex explanation of we are mostly ok but we still often have bouts of profound sadness is just not what anyone wants to hear. It’s also not anything I want to explain. And this is why grief is lonely.
I’m glad for the people that still ask, or make these observations of me. It shows me they care. It’s better than not asking or not bringing it up altogether. I’m not upset with anyone for saying I’m doing well. I recognize that I am, for the most part. It’s just hard to be doing well and not doing well at the same time.
To the person that recently made this observation. Thank you. I really do appreciate that you care. Grief is weird. It’s awkward, it’s persistent, and it lurks behind the veil of doing well.
To those of you who might understand the complex feelings I tried my best to coherently explain, you are not alone. Grief is a bugger. It’s ok to be mostly well and also not at all well in the same day, the same month, the same year, the same life. You can say you’re doing well and mean it, and I’ll still recognize that there will be times when you’re absolutely not doing well. I’ll celebrate the doing great moments with you and I’ll understand that sometimes you’re still a wreck. It’s ok. It’s grief. And unfortunately, I get it.
Extra grace,
Jodi
Coming up the second anniversary I feel I am doing mostly not OK most days. Grief burst as my therapist calls them are daily now instead of randomly. This too shall pass with God’s healing mercy and grace. I have faith…
Truth!! My husband has been in Heaven for 8 months.. Last week I had to speak at a big event where he was being honored by his colleagues, I did OK, a few tears by all, but I was OK. Then a few days later, I was sitting next to a complete stranger who was telling me about her & her husband’s retirement pkans & I completely lost it. Huge cry with a complete stranger for retirement years I won’t have.
I’m at ten months… and watching those around us jump wholeheartedly into retirement stings. We were so close, and then he died.
When people tell me “I look wonderful”, I say, don’t ask me how I look, ask me how I feel.
Oh Jodi you are so right on this topic. Most people including my kids (&family) don’t ask how I’m doing. They just assume I’m fine because that’s how I look on the outside. It’s been 28 months on this journey.
Wow this is very true. 16 months on this journey and have frequently encountered this. Most of the time I respond with ” today I am doing well or things are ok for the moment”. I truly have been there with seeing couples on dates and wanting to say something and then just bawling my eyes out for never having another date with my husband. Thanks for sharing and being real.
I have been going through the same situations lately and they seem to have come up more frequently this past month. But yes, people “want” you to be okay, so you just fudge and say “I’m good!” meanwhile thinking, “they can’t or wouldn’t understand if I tried to explain it, because, honestly, I don’t even understand it most of the time!” I just know I want my husband back, period! I want our life together back, even the annoying little things, what I would give to have it all back!!!! My boys want their father back!! I think we ALL totally get where you’re at Jodi – but it does help us to have someone else articulate it, it truly does and we all thank you!!!
Exactly on every level…!
So much truth in your words Jodi, and in all these other comments. I can relate to each and every one of you. It’s been 22 months since I lost my husband and best friend. I tell people all the time that I didn’t just love him, I was still IN LOVE with him, even after 27 years. Have been dealing with a very stressful situation lately, and wish more than ever that he was here to just hold me and tell me we would get through this. I know I’m strong, I’ve gotten through tough times before, I know that I will get through this too – but the grief is overwhelming right now. Thank you all for reminding me I’m not alone in this journey.
Once again, Jodi–you have nailed it! It’s been almost three and a half years since my husband died and I still have moments of overwhelming grief when it really “hits me.” Triggers recently were the State Fair and watching Iowa football games on TV–activities we loved and always enjoyed together. Three-day weekends and holidays are sad also because we were always content spending time with each other, even if only hanging out at home. Everyone just assumes I am fully recovered and feeling great, so they don’t ask and I don’t tell. But I know in my heart these piercing moments will always return because wonderful memories are a legacy of the great love and happiness we shared.
This is so TRUE I lost my husband 2 years and 7 months ago and the sadness will hit me at the most craziest times and places.
This is so TRUE I lost my husband 2 years and 7 months ago and the sadness will hit me at the most craziest times and places.
This past September 7th, it has been 8 years since my husband Bill was t-boned by the logging truck. I do fairly well most of the time. However, as the days inch closer and closer to the 7th, I begin to slowly unravel. His accident was the day after Labor Day that year. I can tell you exactly what we did that day, where we ate and what movie we watched when we got home. Ask me most days what I had for breakfast, and I may draw a blank. I don’t even attempt to explain to anyone these days what this feels like. It feels like one day I am sitting pretty and the next day, I am a nothing but a wet noodle. I don’t care how long it’s been for us….this will always define us in more ways than we probably want to admit. Thoughts, prayers and hugs ladies from me, Cindy, in Perham, MN.
Yes, yes, and more YES!! 16 months into this grief “game” and it still floors me how quickly I can go from “good” to “hot mess in tears”, all due to something as little as a song or a comment, or even a tv program. I miss my husband so very much but I am moving forward, determined not to become stuck in my grief. I am so thankful I have Jesus to carry me through this. I am also thankful to know that there are others who understand this journey I (we) didn’t choose to go on. thank you for your continued insights and for sharing your vulnerable areas. Thank you for putting a voice to how we are feeling.
Well said! So glad someone else gets it. Life is never the same without that loved one. All of us feel differently b/c it is different with the loss of a husband, child, mother, father, brother, sister, grandparent etc.
Grief never is over. We don’t get over it! We learn to live with it as difficult as it may seem. But our God is so wonderful to help us live with it!
We loss our daughter of 38 years to a car accident and she left behind a four year old and her husband. I feel so badly for my granddaughter not having a mother. But all I can do it pray for her and love her as much as I can! I try to plan times to get together to do fun things.
I really appreciate your ministry. You don’t know how much it helps me. Thank you for your effort and service to God.
Thank you, Jodi. Having a place to be able to be honest, without wearing that mask is so good for all of us. People ask how we are, but, especially after the one year mark, their faces show they don’t want to hear it is still hard. So we wear that mask and cry alone.
God bless you and all the ladies who share their grief here. It’s not self-pity, it’s the price of having loved deeply and loss. I’m so thankful to have had David to love.
I think how I answer, depends on who I’m talking to as well as the day… Some people automatically get the “I’m fine” answer, even when I’m not. Those people REALLY don’t care how I’m doing. They are just asking to be polite. Other’s get, “I’m fine today,” even when I’m really not because, even though they care, I just really don’t want to talk about it right then. Others receive the honest answer. If today sucks, they get that answer or if today is ok, they get that one. They are the ones who have walked beside me holding me up in this journey.
Oh my 7 years for me and what you just wrote is so true in all of it. I so enjoyed reading how you feel cause it is so much how I feel. Praying for you.
Shirley Shelbourn
totally understand, my husband died unexpectedly on Jan 19 2017, I still cry nearly every day. People think I’m fine, but they don’t see me when I’m alone