Here Come Those Tears Again

I spent the first three years working through the complicated emotions of Mike’s sudden death. It was painful to deal with all of the feelings: guilt, anger, sorrow, and I often didn’t know whether I was coming or going. It was exhausting, and I would have preferred to skip the whole process and just feel “normal.” The hospice leader warned that when you try to avoid grief, it will wait, and you will end up suffering from complicated grief. When you experience another loss, it will bring up the feelings you haven’t dealt with along with this new grief.

My heart has been stitched together as I continue to heal. But, like any wound, the stitches come undone, and the pain acts like it never left. 

I’ve been overtired lately, partly due to a chronic condition, making me feel more vulnerable. I’ve been fortunate to have parents who are in their 80s, but I can see the effect that age has had on them. It is so hard to watch, especially my mom’s decline, as she was always active. Since Mike’s death, my dad has been my rock, the man I turn to for support. 

The grief of what I’ve lost and the loss I must one day experience again has hit me so hard. Having lived through Mike’s death, I know that this is part of life. But I would give anything to not have to experience the pain again. 

My way of dealing with this sorrow is to cry when I need to, usually putting on my sad song playlist. I also call my dad every day to say hello and tell him I love them both, as I live across the country from my parents and cannot fly because of a condition I developed. 

The cost of being loved and open-hearted is that I feel things deeply. I wouldn’t change who I am or what I’ve been blessed with; the road is tricky to walk sometimes. At least I don’t have to walk it alone as I’ve been given many marvelous friends to help me on the way.