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Grief and His First Love

“For beautiful eyes, look for the good in others; for beautiful lips, speak only words of kindness; and for poise, walk with the knowledge that you are never alone.” Audrey Hepburn

Forty-two days after my loved one passed, I left my home in the northeast to attend a special celebration in Florida. I wanted to be at this anniversary party for my close friend. However, as a new widow, I sought the tenderness, compassion, and unconditional love that I knew that many of the guests would be able to provide.

Nothing Could Touch Me

We stayed on the beach, sharing a condo overlooking the Atlantic Ocean. The view was beautiful and the ocean air felt healing. I took the couch to sleep with the sliding glass doors open and heard the waves in the evening. Nothing seemed like it could touch me here, not even the despair and separateness I felt before arriving. I needed some time to be, breathe, and feel a connection to the God of my understanding.

 

On that beautiful morning, I sat on the balcony, letting my breath carry me into a place of peace when my phone rang.

 

Glancing at the face, I saw that it was my loved one’s ex-wife. I knew that I was grieving, the sense of loss I felt was overwhelming, and the last person I wanted to speak to was an ex-wife.

The last person I wanted to speak to was an ex-wife. Click To Tweet

I summoned all the patience and tolerance I had and answered the phone. Instead of my head telling me that it would be unpleasant and trying, I allowed my kind and loving God to open me up to whatever was on the other end of the phone.

I listened and I found myself letting her kindness and thoughtfulness touch me.  I don’t remember what was said as the conversation was short. However, it was clear that it was an act of compassion that didn’t need to happen but did. She went out of her way to let me know that she was thinking of me. She expressed her kindness and shared her most profound regret for my loss.

The Mother of my Daughter

 

This woman was the mother of my daughter. She was my loved one’s first love, high school girlfriend, and ex-wife.

 

What I know is that this woman was most certainly experiencing her own sense of loss, and she still took the time to call me. This act of kindness reminded me not to assume anything about what an ex-wife could or would do.

I ended the telephone call grateful for the work we had done through the years to put aside the wife/ex-wife thing and do what would be best for our children. And on this day, of all days, it paid off.

 

On this day, I was reminded not to project or deny someone an opportunity to practice compassion and empathy no matter who they are. I know today that kindness is not just relegated to family and friends.

I am incredibly grateful to that special ex-wife whose kind and gentle words provided an unexpected reprieve in the middle of my grief. For that, I am extremely thankful.

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The Anger

“Anybody can become angry — that is easy, but to be angry with the right person and to the right degree and at the right time and for the right purpose, and in the right way — that is not within everybody’s power and is not easy.”   Aristotle

An emotion had found me that I did not know what to do with – Anger.  I was angry all the time.  It was justified I would tell myself.  I had a right to be angry.  Illness had taken my loved one and I was without my partner.  All was definitely not right with the world as my life had changed and I was pissed off.

I would try to keep myself together but all I had to do was get in car and the first mistake by the ass driving next to me would bring up anger not fitting for the situation.  I was walking through my life as if it was ok to take my rathe out on: the inconsiderate driver, the slow attendant at the store or the person on the other end of the line.  The problem was that it was never the right person.  So, who was the right person?

It took me a while to realize that I was angry at him and at me. Click To Tweet

It took me a while to realize that I was angry at him and at me.  I was angry that he did not take care of himself through the years, that we did not do more while he was well, that we did not have more time together.  But I was really angry that he lived through that horrible surgery just to die fourteen days later.  I was angry that he fucking died and left me alone.

I found that I was feeling like I had no purpose, no direction and no clue as to what to do next.  Something had to change because even in my grief I knew that it was not ok to live life this way.  The anger I was expressing was leaving a path of destruction from which I would not be able to get through in one piece.

So, I picked up the telephone and spoke with friend.  She suggested that I write a letter to him about my anger and disappointments.  Once I had written this letter, I made my way to the cemetery.  I was filled with apprehension but once I reached his grave, I read the letter.  With tears flowing and some sobbing I was able to say the things that I had kept hidden but felt in my heart.  Leaving I felt a little lighter not really knowing if it was due to the letter or the tears and emotions that I had shed at his gravesite.

It is fifty-six days since my loved one passed and yes, I still get angry but I find that I am making my way back to a better place as I recognize that the anger most certainly is a part of the grief process and one that I am in the middle of.

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The Snow Day

“I live about 60 miles northwest of New York City, and whenever there’s news of a big snowstorm coming, everyone runs for the store. The perishable items are usually the first things to go, which doesn’t make sense because they perish.” Susan Beth Pfeffer

I had been watching the weather report for several days as the news had been predicting a major snowstorm to hit my area.  I went to the store and got essentials for every storm: batteries for flashlights, gas for the generator, salt for the driveway, bottled water and canned foods, I dragged a ¼ cord of wood into my garage and got something sweet to eat.

In the past the anticipation of a snowstorm would only cause me anxiety because of what that really meant for us.  Due to my loved one’s illness the preparations were extensive as they included making sure that we had plenty of oxygen tanks, all prescriptions had to be filled and no matter how much snow fell the driveway had to be cleared as soon as possible just in case we had to call for an ambulance.

This was the first major snowstorm that I would be going through without him. Click To Tweet

But today was different as this was the first major snowstorm that I would be going through without him.  I found myself enjoying the thought of a real snow day.  We had lived in the northeast for twelve years and this snow day would be the first with no worries.  It reminded me of the kind of snow day that the kids look forward to – only fun, relaxing, book reading, game playing and eating comfort food.

I put together a pot of soup and it was simmering on the stove; the living room was warm from the fireplace and I sat on the bench in front of my picture window enjoying the view as the snow started to fall.  The flakes were big and beautiful and the woods were covered with a blanket of snow within a short period of time.

I was filled with gratitude and appreciation for the beautiful woods that surround my home even though there would be three feet of snow in the morning.  I was enjoying the quiet that came from this snowstorm and as I sat on my couch, I realized that the peace I was feeling was actually calming my soul.  This was the perfect snow day.