What do I do now?
So here I was, 32 with a 2 yr old and a widow. It’s funny how your life becomes defined by before a particular event then after a particular event. In this case, the time when I was happy and the time my whole world came crashing down. It is difficult to explain the unimaginable pain that I was going through. Everyone was there in the beginning wanting to help and cook and clean which was good because I probably couldn’t have spelled my own name at that point. Grief is a very powerful emotion. It caused me to forget complete chunks of my life, of my existence. I still don’t know how I managed to put one foot in front of the other some days. I felt as if I was stumbling through life without a particular direction or path or purpose. So much of who I was died that day. My hopes for the future; my dreams of a happily ever after. I didn’t know how I was supposed to go on. Who do I call when I have a good day? A bad day? Who do I share my fears and my worries with? You truly don’t realize what you have until it’s gone.
I wanted to go to sleep and when I woke up it would all have been a dream and I would find him by my side again. For the longest time I felt as if I had a ball of something in my throat that kept me from eating. If I even thought about food, waves of nausea would come over me. I couldn’t catch my breath. I wanted to sit in my bathroom and cry. I did. I cried until I had no more tears to cry. Have you ever had a gut-wrenching cry? Like if you started, you were pretty sure you wouldn’t be able to stop? The cry of agonizing pain that comes from deep within your soul. Most days I couldn’t cry like I wanted because I had this little person who depended on me to be ok. How the hell was I going to raise this child alone? I didn’t want to be a single parent (as I’m sure almost no one wants to be). I would find myself just dialing his number…because how could I not? I told him everything.
You haven’t lived until you try to explain to a 2 year old why her father isn’t coming home. “Where’s daddy?” she would ask over and over. I could only lie for so long, “he’s at work mija.” I finally had to tell my doe-eyed daughter that her father had gone to live with Jesus. As the days went on, the pain and loneliness became more and more unbearable to the point where I would zone out and have periods of time that I could not account for. There were so many days when I asked God to just get me through the next five minutes with losing it; I did this literally EVERY FIVE MINUTES.
As I mentioned, there are blocks of time that I cannot remember. But some of the things I do remember, I wish I could forget. Like telling my daughter about her father not coming home. The time when she and I were playing telephone and she pretended to call her dad. She asked, “daddy, when are you coming home?” “Never? Well ok. I miss you. Tell God hello.” I thought I would loose it. I wanted to loose it. It is so frustrating to not have anyone to share things with. I didn’t want to burden anyone. I chose to keep it all in. I don’t recommend that because as I’ve mentioned in previous posts, grief has a way of showing up at the most inopportune time.
Through it all, I still had to take my daughter to daycare. Enroll her in activities and take her to said activities. I still had to go to work…so many things that I didn’t think about before now became a chore. My friend told me recently of a friend she had who passed away suddenly. She left behind 2 young children and a spouse. When she told me the story, my heart instantly broke for the husband and the children left behind who would likely not remember their mother. I know all to well what fresh hell this man is about to face. Even though I don’t know him or his family I want to shield him from what is to come. I want to take away his pain…weird huh? So I did the only thing I knew to do, I prayed for him and his family and I continue to do so. Hearing that story only cemented the importance of me sharing my journey. My journey is unlike anyone else’s. Other peoples journey is not like mine. We each have our own journey/path to walk…no better, no worse. Just know that the hurt will hurt for a while but you get THROUGH it not over it. Know also that HOPE is not passive, it is an action and “practicing real HOPE keeps you from drowning in anxiety” (I read/heard that quote somewhere and I don’t remember where so I can’t take credit).