Wednesday, October 10, 2012

Grief is always in season

I feel that time coming on.

The weeks leading up to Jeremy's death.
The march.

It feels corny to call it that, and I have to admit I've been resisting it. Because truthfully, I have no reason to complain. Life is good. I have an incredible family, a wonderful loving husband, a beautiful home, and great friends.

But, I feel the hole that can never be filled.

I didn't really realize what it was at first because I was trying to focus on being thankful. But I felt sluggish, tired, emotional about everything, unmotivated....not really wanting to participate in life right now. But the more Steve and I talked through it, the easier I recognized it as grief rearing its ugly head. It makes sense because I held on to all those days before Jeremy died - trying to remember every detail and holding on to every piece. I remember my last October with him. And now, I feel him closer than usual from remembering all those little details I've locked into my heart to never forget.

The distinctly annoying characteristic about grief is that it's always in season. No matter how much I want it to go away, it never goes out of style. There may be days, weeks, or even months when it's more obvious than others but it never really disappears. It follows me around to creep up on me at any given moment.

In the bedtime stories that I remember him reading to the kids.
In a silly chord progression in a hymn at church that he loved to sing.
In the smell of fall.
In the talk of applesauce that Caleb wants to bring as a snack to school.
In a situation where I need his particular advice.
In a photo of Tom Hardy that a friend posted on his FB page that looks eerily like him.

I can't escape it. I stopped trying to. I've learned to embrace, yes embrace, this time and soak up the moments when Jeremy feels close to me. Even if it's painful.


  1. I love that - "grief is always in season". There is always something that leads us back to them. I decided to plant some new bulbs this year. I bought them, fine. I spread them out where I wanted to plan them, fine. And then boom. For years I laboriously planted them by hand - took me hours and hours to work them into our hard soil. One day he shows up, says that's too hard, goes into the garage and emerges with a drill and an auger bit and we had those things done in 20 minutes. I had a mixture of fury and relief - how could he not have done that before! He simply said he knew how much I loved gardening and thought I was enjoying myself - and he loved watching me do it. He had suddenly realized how hard I was working and decided to help. Now, I can see all the years afterward when we simply did it together and laughed about the whole thing.

    1. Isn't it amazing how the smallest things, and the least expected things, seems to be the very things that spur grief on the hardest? Thanks you for sharing.

  2. Thank you for this beautiful post. I just thought this the other day. There's always a time, an occasion, a month or some random thing that happens and there he is.

    Fall sets me up for when he took sick in September, all the treatments and hospital stays in October. My birthday, our anniversary and Thanksgiving happen in the same week, Christmas. January Super Bowl,February is Daytona which he looked forward to (he was a NASCAR nut). He would start announcing, in January, how many days until Daytona (probably more so because I didn't care one whit). March we started getting our motorcycles ready to start riding in April. May is his birthday, June Father's Day and then the anniversary of his death.

    But the other day was no anniversary or remembrance time in particular but I woke up thinking, "It's been three years and I still can't get used to being without you." Later on that day I was going through our "storage" room. Most of this stuff is his and started throwing things around and said out loud, "Why did you leave me with all this crap?" Then I felt guilty. As if he would ever purposely burden me or not want to be here. I can be incredibly sad and then remarkably angry all in the same day. For no apparent reason.

    Grief is always in season.

    1. Thanks for your comment, Susan. It seems the moment you get through a big date on the calendar, another is right around the corner waiting for you. And then, when you think you get through em all, something mundane and ordinary knocks you over just as hard!

  3. I am incredibly sad, remarkably angry, and really scared right now.

    1. Dear Anonymous,

      Don't give up, keep seeking out resources like this and know that you are not alone. If you need someone to talk to, my email is My prayers are with you.

  4. This is only the second time you've done this. I think we need more practice to make it seem like part of the natural rhythm of our lives, rather than something unnatural, unbelievable, and unbearable. All the wonderful things you have, while they give you support and things to be thankful for, don't change the size and shape of the thing you lost.

  5. What a great way to look at those difficult times - birthday, anniversary - as a way to remember the details of the love we shared with our spouses. To embrace that time. Up to this point, I've dreaded those days ... thinking more negatively about what is gone from my life rather than taking those special days to celebrate the love we shared. Thank you, Vee. I'll remember this when those difficult days come in November - Steve's birthday followed by our wedding anniversary the next day.