Friday, January 14, 2011

lurking tragedy

Photo from here...
Since the death of Jeff, I am ALWAYS searching for reason or explanation for each occurrance that unfolds in my life. I have become adept at looking for, and most often finding, the "brightside". Searching out the blessings. The gifts that, however difficult to see initially, reveal themselves as the shock of trauma wears away.

I have found that despite some very hard learning experiences, I seem to eventually bounce (almost) back. Although not unscathed by these events, I have found hope hidden in unexpected corners. It has been one of the gifts of losing the love of my life - I now can see clearly what is 'real'.

But now, suddenly, out of the blue, I am unable to climb back up. I am struggling with too much on my plate, too many issues needing to be dealt with and a grief that won't dissipate.

I smile and function. I do my job. I clean the house. I am struck by the kindness and love from others. But my heart is aching. The hope that I have been so able to suss out seems to have wandered elsewhere. All I can see is this life reaching beyond me with hurdle after hurdle to be leaped over. It doesn't seem to end and I am exhausted in every sense of the word. I miss Jeff with all my heart. I am suddenly fearful of the loss of my children to death. I feel like another tragedy is just around the corner at all moments. Lurking unseen to leap at me unexpectedly. Maybe this is why I feel that it will come - I don't want to be surprised so I force myself to expect it.

I don't understand why, now, after all this time, I am aching again. I know that much of my sadness and exhaustion is situational.....But these situations seem to keep coming.

I want to be hopeful and joyful. A testament to the fact that life goes on. But right now, I kind of wish it didn't.


  1. You words hit so close to home for me. It sucks to know what a broken heart really feels like. That "to the core" hurt that nothing fixes.

  2. "I don't want to be surprised so I force myself to expect it." and " life goes on. But right now, I kind of wish it didn't."

    an amen from the choir.

  3. Yep......feel exactly the same! Thanks!

  4. Such a beautifully honest and spot on description of the entirety of grief. I have felt everything you describe and also marvel at how these feelings, hope, sadness, desperation, loneliness, ache all seem to interweave and mingle together or alternate at weird times.

    Thank you for capturing this so clearly. I don't know what else to say except that it feels amazing to me to hear someone else speak this experience and for that I am very grateful.

  5. Thank you. Being vulnerable and having to deal with what life brings us again and yet again isn't easy. My husband used to say when "life hands you a lemon, make lemonade" but sometimes, coming my way it seems are more sour lemons.
    I can't believe his words would apply now.
    But after his death I can honestly say each day is a gift--no matter how bad or sad. And my life was/is better because he was part of it.
    It's just hard to get the incentive to forge ahead especially when you don't have a clear understanding of what is out there for you.
    Virtual hugs come your way.

  6. Sometimes its a good idea to have a physical exam with your family MD and also share your current situation with your MD, just to rule out physical ailments or clinical depression. What helps me when I'm more sad than usual is to write about it with no censorship and to really get down to what is bothering me, and then rant and rave about the issue or cry so I can move on. I've done this multiple times over the past 2+ yrs as part of my grief work. Just a thought.

  7. I am going through similiar feelings. I keep feeling like I will spend my life alone, missing the one man who could love me, overweight, over 40 and with all of the baggage I bring! And yet, I still have to bear the burden of raising my two children myself- definately not what I had planned on. I think this happens to all of us, because the future we envisioned was taken away and we have no directions on how to build a new one! WE WILL EVENTUALLY GET THERE, we just have to be patient with ourselves and give ourselves time!

  8. Thank you for your honest post. I can really relate, it's like your reading my mind....I miss my Mike so much, it's just so damn painful.

  9. I feel the same way. It strikes me that, while there are so many of us who have suffered similar losses, it still feels that so terribly lonely.

  10. I am awake at 12:54 a.m. after saying good bye to friends who came for dinner and left at 11 pm. I am grateful for the friendship I have but as they drove off, couples together, i closed the door and sobbed. How to move forward when every single thing reminds me that Jim is gone. That he is never coming back. Every day, I get to this point where my head knows he is gone. I know - he died from a brain tumour. I was at his bedside, my arms around him. . . but my heart, my heart will not let me believe he is gone forever. Sometimes my grief makes me feel like I am losing it. Your post helps me to hear my own voice, to understand what is happening.
    Thank you for telling the truth.

  11. ...and I think "who will hold me?" when my time comes. Who will take care of me when that "disaster" strikes and it is just me. Alone. That is where some of this fear comes from. The truth is, I'm not alone. I have great, grown children who wrap their arms around me to comfort and care and I can count on them. I truly am blessed and have to work to remember it.

  12. your words resonate within me. i am in a similar place, wondering how i will handle hurdle after hurdle. i am exhausted. i keep thinking that i should be happy, but happy just doesn't come. i try, but that true happy, feeling good just isn't there. i want to be hopeful too. thank you for your words.