No one ever told me...

     Earlier this week after a typical day at work, in the quiet of the evening I realized I felt... off.   That's not super uncommon, but this was different somehow.   It took a while for me to identify the feeling.  Fear.   Nothing happened to trigger it, it just was there.  I'm no stranger to fear, it's one of the items in the "welcome package" you get when your spouse is diagnosed with cancer.   I lived with the fear of losing him for 5 years.   A fear that was realized in December.  The fear of losing him was replaced with the fear of how am I going to survive without him, which has constantly been brewing beneath the surface ever since.    How am I going to take care of myself, what when something happens? A fear of  growing close to people to avoid future pain of loss.    As well as just a general fear of the future, it feels as if the world is crashing in.    I have consciously avoided watching the news as knowing what's going on out in the world just adds more worry.   But I do still catch snippets of the craziness out there and it's scary.   

      

    But just plain fear, for no reason, that was unexpected.   I recalled this quote that I've come across frequently from C.S. Lewis.   "No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear."  Not quite sure how what can help counter balance fear, I attempted to distract myself by learning more about his experience with grief.  He married an American writer named Joy Davidman in 1956; she died of cancer four years later at the age of 45. He died 3 years later.  I think I remember watching the movie about their love story, called Shadowlands, as a young teenager but don't remember much about it.   The quote is from a book called "A Grief Observed".  It was a journal that he wrote with no intention of publishing, but ended up publishing under the pseudonym N.W. Clerk.  It was his reflections on his experience of bereavement following the death of his wife.  I've heard that many have found it to be very helpful, in fact he himself received several gift copies.   Perhaps one day when my brain will cooperate I'll read it.   For now I've just read quotes from it and been impressed with his ability to articulate the difficult feelings and experiences of grief.   

     Wednesday marked five months, which for some reason feels profoundly more significant that four, and terrifyingly one month closer to six.  A half of an entire year without my sweetheart.     I somehow mustered through the day at work even though I felt nauseous, shaky and cried off and on throughout the day.   I was so grateful that I didn't have any meetings.   When I found out that my brother and sister-in-law had had a difficult morning with a phone call to 911 and a visit to the ER, my heart ached for both of them and the weight of mortality felt extraordinarily heavy.   I longed to put my arms around them and cry with them.  This human thing is hard.   

     The following two days were Star Wars holidays that my husband loved to celebrate.   Quite the trendsetter, he was celebrating them even before it was the cool thing to do.   I thought of years past when we would make a death star pizza or how excited we were to watch the Mandalorian.   But still couldn't bear the thought of watching anything Star Wars without him.  

     Friday evening was a day that didn't fit in with the rest of the week.   I finished work and spent the evening more productive than I have in a while.   I worked on cleaning off my desk which has slowly been filling up with things that I need to do, and scraps of paper with things I've written down of things so I don't forget.  I cleared up some of the small projects and finally deposited the social security death benefit check which has been sitting on my desk for several weeks.   For some reason the fact that it had come from Kansas City felt significant, but really didn't mean anything, and for whatever reason cashing it felt so final and a difficult step to do.  The death benefit which once upon a time was enough to cover a funeral has not been increased and wasn't even enough to cover the flowers for his casket.  Weird little details you never thought you would know.    This week I also battled  a much less exciting war... insurance wars.   Trying to get the ambulance company, rehab hospital and insurance to talk to each other and file whatever paperwork is necessary to hopefully resolve a bill was also something I also did this week.   Perhaps one day I will be able to succeed.   I also filled out the necessary box on a bright orange paper that came in the mail.   Letting them know that he was still dead and wouldn't be able to make it for his second jury summons this year.   Ugg...  paperwork... 

      I stayed up late on Friday watching TV hoping that going to bed late would increase my odds of being able to sleep in.   But it was not to be.  I woke up much early than normal and when I changed the station the coronation of King Charles was on live.  It brought back memories of Queen Elizabeth passing away earlier on our hospital stay and watching her funeral.   That was early  during our stay ad we wondered if we would still be in the hospital for her funeral.  No only were we still in the hospital, but that was the day we ended back in the ICU.   Finding out later that she also battled myeloma in her final months I can't help but the challenges she might have faced.   

         This week was tough, but I made it.  I was grateful for those who reached out and said they were thinking of me, and loved me.    Worn out and tired I was tempted to stayed tucked away in the safety and comfort of home.  But I instead I went out with my aunts for a drive and got some fresh air.   With time today to nap, reflect and recharge, I'm hoping that this week will be easier.    No difficult anniversaries or holiday's to survive, just the normal days that are exhausting in their own way.   

 

For an interesting read: C.S. Lewis On Grief