Yesterday marked 17 weeks, and tomorrow is the 4 month anniversary of Sara’s death. One month for every year we knew each other, one-third of a year. I know eventually more time will have passed since her death than the time she and I knew each other, but that thought just makes me sad and overwhelmed, so I try to shove it into the back of head. Sometimes being a numbers person is not a good thing.
I was faced with a writing prompt this week asking what I would tell people who are new to grief, “new arrivals”. In some respects I am still very much a new arrival. 4 months isn’t very long. It went by both quickly and slowly. I have many more years ahead of me to live with the grief of having lost the love of my life.
Rather than focus on what I would tell the grievers who arrived in this unwanted, un-asked for alternate universe more recently than I did, I thought I would instead think about how my grief has changed (or not) over the last few months.
I stared out pretty shell-shocked. Although we knew her condition was very serious, we weren’t prepared for Sara’s rapid decline and death. November was a haze, focused on two things: the practical “to-dos” after Sara’s death and simply trying to accept that I now lived in a world without her. Having “to-dos” was both a curse and a blessing. It really sucks having to do all of those things – calling credit card companies, making cremation arrangements, planning a memorial service, going to the DMV, going to the social security office, filing insurance paperwork… but it also gave me something to focus on. It gave me something to channel my otherwise frazzled energy into.
November was packed with important “firsts” – our first wedding anniversary, my first birthday, the first thanksgiving since Sara’s death. That said, I was honestly pretty numb still. Don’t get me wrong – there were lots of tears, but so much of my energy the first 1-2 months was spent just trying to understand & integrate the fact that Sara was dead. I suspect these milestones in 2020 will probably be harder. I think initially my grief was really oriented around letting out feelings and energy that I didn’t know what to do with – it was raw sorrow at having witnessed Sara’s death, and at being thrust into a life I was unprepared for.
I went back to work on Nov 20th – 2.5 weeks after Sara died. Looking back, I should’ve taken some more time, but I didn’t know what to do with myself, and I felt like I needed to have a purpose and something specific to do with my time. Since then, I’ve had good weeks and bad weeks when it comes to work. Grief is so strange – it can affect someone in ways that just don’t seem connected in any way to their loss. I have days where I just really struggle with my concentration/focus in a way I never struggled before. I just have to push through it and do the best I can.
Once I got through the holidays, things actually got harder. It’s like the anesthetic was wearing off and the pain started hitting me more directly. It was different than the initial pain, though. January was when I really realized it was important for me to spend time with friends and family regularly. Right now, it’s not good for me to go too long without reinforcing my connections with those who love me and Sara – There was one weekend in particular when I really had trouble getting out of bed, sleeping until noon or later both days, unintentionally.
It’s really strange, trying to strike a balance between feeling all my feelings/processing my grief, but also doing so in way that allows me to be the functional adult that I need to be. I wish our society gave the newly bereaved room to be non-functional for longer, but that just didn’t really feel like an option.
I don’t know that anything has really gotten better, 4 months out. The fact that I am NEVER going to see Sara again is really hitting me harder now that it’s been months, and that’s just really hard. I still cry every day. I’m not as numb, which is ultimately good, but it sure makes things real.
I have to try to remind myself to be gentle with myself. The perfectionist and anxiety-driven part of me tries to tell me that I should’ve gotten more done around the house by now, but it feels so overwhelming. I haven’t gone through most of Sara’s clothes, or her beauty stuff, or our office, or the garage (which still has a bunch of stuff we never dealt with when we combined households back in 2016). So I close my eyes and tell myself that none of these things are on a deadline. I will get to them, but I’m not in a race.
I don’t know what’s next for my grief. I’m trading in our little car in about a week, which is already stirring up lots of feelings. It was Sara’s car but became our car when we decided to sell mine & be a 1-car household. It is so Sara – with rainbow pet-paw plate holder on the front and a plate holder about how Girl Geeks (or Nerds?) rock on the back. It’s so little and cute and I remember her telling me how proud she was when she bought it new. I suspect there may be tears at the auto dealer when I give them the keys, even though I am excited about the new-to-me car I’m trading it in for.
I know it seems like I focus on my grief all the time. Although my grief is ever-present, I promise I’m taking important steps to purposefully build and shape my new life. It’s not the life I wanted, but it’s what I’ve got so I’m trying to make what I can of it.