Hi all,
My husband died four and a half years ago. A single, unexpected, massive heart attack. He was 48, I was 47. What follows is my experience of the journey so far…
Year one: mostly numb, interspersed with complete meltdowns, I avoided music with lyrics because they can mug your thoughts unexpectedly, choosing instrumental pieces instead. Friends were supportive but they know I’m a self control freak so they weren’t intrusive. I also avoided alcohol completely for about three months… I didnt trust myself to hold it together if I drank. Counselling sessions between months 2 and 10 helped. I discovered that calendars hold emotional trigger points… birthdays, wedding anniversary, bl**dy Christmas.
Year two: The worst trigger point of all. The anniversary of the day he died. I did (and still do) make sure not to be at work that day. I know a meltdown is inevitable so I keep my own company and let it come. Support is thinner on the ground from friends… the person who died was not an intrinsic part of their lives and they move on more easily. That is, I’m afraid, the way it is. With the dwindling support and that thawing of the numbness comes the “what do I do now?”. During this second year I changed my job to something more challenging and rewarding. I also admitted to myself that there were things about being married that I hated (Mainly cooking… I’m actually a good cook but daily meal prep is tedious and expected…now I don’t have to do it) as well as the things I loved and miss. I also started dating someone. It lasted 6 months and in the process I learned a great deal about myself and my expectations.
Year three: Starting to get a better idea of who I am (me, as opposed to being half of a partnership). It still felt weird and as with everyone I did (and still do) have days where I curl up on the sofa and bawl my eyes out (now being a case in point but that’s because I’m writing about it). Sometimes we need to. Good days outnumber the bad ones. Discover the hardest part about flying solo (for me anyway) is not just that there’s no one to vent to when you’ve had a bad day, but that there’s no one to share a tale of a good day with either. I tell my cat instead.
Year four: Occasional bad days (usually calendar related). My premarriage personality (modified post bereavement) is pretty much reasserted.
Year five (in progress): Yes I still hate bl**dy Christmas only this year I’m hosting my husband’s family so cannot hide under the duvet for two or three days (not that I have… But I’ve always wanted to). Work keeps me (reasonably) sane. I make sure I have people free downtime (I fall at the introvert end of the personality scale) to recharge my batteries. I continue to put one foot in front of the other.
Sorry for the rambling post. Everyone is different, everyone’s experience of bereavement is different. This is mine so far.
I saw an explanation of grief that struck a chord: draw a circle. The circle is your life so far. Fill the circle with black scribble. That scribble is your grief at the point of bereavement. Draw another, larger circle around the original one. This is your life later. The grief is still there, but it no longer takes up your whole life. Time does most emphatically not heal all wounds (I remember angrily telling a well meaning friend that that particular platitude was utter rubbish) but it does allow us to move away from the period where the grief was all consuming.
Be well.
Firehorse