I’ve been pushing with all my might since October 5th and I can claim many little victories: The kitchen is now mine. The living room is now mine. The closets – all except for the big scary one - are all mine. But the house is a wreck with piles of stuff. I have one pile of stuff that’s the Keep This Forever stack (that pile is filled with emotional land mines and prickly pear.) Another pile is the eBay pile. Another pile is the Give To Others pile. (The process of distributing those gifts will be all kinds of fun.)(By the way, that was extreme sarcasm, just in case it wasn’t clear.) Despite the enormous emotional effort, I feel like all I’ve managed to do is shuffle stuff around while making a complete mess of my house.
And everything has come to a complete stop.
My faithful helper texted me Monday to ask if I wanted to make another big push forward this weekend. My heart went cold. I didn’t even respond at first. I feel like I’ve hit a wall. Go figure. The last big push I made three weeks ago left me a slobbering mess of a man. It was the hardest of all by far, except, possibly for that first big step. Now I fear I lack the resolve to push through to the finish, the last big push: to clear out our closet.
I dismissed my helper’s request with an honest self-assessment of my timidity: I’m seriously rattled from our last bit of work and need some recovery time. But yet I feel I must continue. This process is just simply unforgiving. I get weaker with each step I take yet I know that that despite the pain, this is the right path.
For now, like a climber’s respite at the butt of the final summit, I’ve paused, out of breath, out of energy, and out of motivation. But where my wind, muscles and drive fail me, my devotion will not. I am devoted to the pursuit of a life that would make Maggie proud. She’s worth that. And so am I. While I may rest for just a bit, I will not stop my progress.
(Damn this is hard.)
this process Is unforgiving.
ReplyDeleteRelentless.
amen.
The wise climber always stops to collect himself and clear his head before attempting the summit.
ReplyDeleteThank you for this. That perspective colors my pause as a moment of wisdom. I'll take it.
DeleteYou will succeed... just because you paused doesn't mean you're done. I so get the "shuffle stuff", doing that at my place too. Yes, it is hard but after awhile it gets easier, I get tired of looking at it and just take it to Goodwill! I have found that what I think my friends or family might want, really isn't, they take things to appease me. So I have stopped offering, all but to a few.
ReplyDeleteKeep on keeping on... you will succeed.
So, so, so proud of your effort to reclaim a life you love. Keep going Chris, I believe in you...and of course, your Maggie does.
ReplyDeleteYou amaze me! I am completely in awe.
ReplyDeleteTo keep that perspective (that you're doing this for both of you) even when you're as torn down as you are is incredible. Way to go my friend.
I started and I have to say I thought if you could try so could I - damn it is hard - I am having a quilt made from all of his Buffalo Bill/Buffalo Sabres shirts for our 11 year old for christmas - so that has pushed me farther than I thought I could/would - but if his scent was on it I am sorry to say it stayed in the closet - I am so pathetic that I even smelled his shoes in the closet to see if they had his scent before I would part with them -it seems like so much work and effort I put into this for what little result I see - but you have to take the first step right?? and I didn't fall of the cliff but damn the air is thin up there on that cliff . . . .
ReplyDeleteWell said. You didn't fall off the cliff but man, it sure makes for some dizzy times when you are up there.
DeleteBy the way, there's nothing pathetic about smelling his shoes. For those of us who understand, which is likely all the people who read this blog, it's a bit romantic and totally normal. Smell away. You aren't the only one who's done such a thing. I promise. I know for certain.
One more thing: This quote from you "I started and I have to say I thought if you could try so could I" is exactly why I share all this stuff with all of you on this blog. Thank you for telling me that. It means I'm helping, even just a little.
DeleteThank you.
Chris,
ReplyDeleteYou are sooo right...this whole journey is so very tough. I think you are on to something--that is, pacing yourself and getting back to the task at hand when you feel ready to continue the climb. I hope you feel good about all the hard work you have done so far. Kinda feels like we are moving mountains sometimes, doesn't it?
Forgive me for asking this question, but what is driving you to do this task, when it is so painful? Why is it important to do this? I glance every day past my husband's shirts, lined up in the closet exactly as they were the day - two years ago - he left for work and didn't return. I assume that one day, perhaps, I will feel that it's time to move them, but that time is not today. Perhaps that time will never come. What made you decide it was time?
ReplyDeleteClaire,
DeleteThere's no hurry and certainly no timetable. You will know when it's time. And until it's time, it's just not time yet. I've learned that how long it's been is not an indicator of when it's time for you or for anyone. But just so you know, it was 2 1/2 years before I touched a single thing.
The first thing I did was to throw away a bouquet of roses I was sent the day after Maggie died. It had been sitting on her side of the bathroom for 2 1/2 years. And I was just fine with it sitting there, along with all her other things until one day I wasn't fine with it any more and that's when it started. But that day, I didn't really think about it. I just did it. Out they went. It was scary but it didn't hurt as bad as I thought it would. (You can read about that day in my post on this blog from Sept 20, 2011 called Business of Change.)
I’m sorry about your husband. And I’m sorry that this hurts. But don’t add pressure to yourself about pushing yourself to make changes if you aren’t ready. I’m now 3 ½ years out and I’m ready to live my new life so, for me AND for Maggie, it’s time. So I push.
I hope this helps somehow.
Claire- for me it felt like I was stuck - I wanted to live again in the present but I wanted to stay in the past where I was because that is where Dale was even though he was gone (and my case was the same as years he left for work that morning and never came home -an accident at work took him from us)- it has for me only been since May 15th but I looked at our son and he deserves a mom that is really present for the here and now - we talk about Dale daily sometimes like he is still with us and gosh we miss him sooo much and just like Chris I am going in baby steps and it is hard - I am not going to lie how hard it is but I have to say I feel like I am moving towards life again and this is a baby step towards it - don't beat yourself up - this grief journey is hard enough on all of us - c'mon I am smelling shoes so you know how hard it is when you do that :)
ReplyDeleteChris,
ReplyDeleteIn choosing a picture of your ascent to Machu Picchu for your post, I see the symbolism of your struggle to move forward as you gaze onto a consecrated place, a place symbolized by the Incas where "things that seem to exist out of their natural order, remarkable things because of their exceptional beauty or excellence". Those quoted words describe Maggie and your relationship, I understand that depth of love quite well and what makes it so difficult to ascend to a new place.. and yet you are, you have and you will...a few steps forward, a few steps back, and the beauty will always remain despite the pain.
Chris,
ReplyDeleteWhen I read your post I experienced a moment of shock because you described exactly where I am right now. I'm almost four years out and have been on a big push to make our house my own and to make decisions about what to sell, what to give away, what to keep. My house feels chaotic and disorganized as a result with bins and boxes of memories everywhere. It's hard as hell. And like you I've reached a moment of full, dead stop and my energy to keep pushing (such that it is) is out of steam. It was encouraging to see that someone else is going through what I am right now, and encouraging that you still see the light at the end of the tunnel and believe in your ability to succeed.
Thank you for your post, it helped me a lot.
I happy my post helped. It might surprise you, but helps me to know that you are there struggling with the same things I am struggling with. We should take pictures of each other's house and trade, just for a good laugh. My house is such a wreck, with piles everywhere. And this is called progress? But it is progress because things are moving that haven't moved in 3 1/2 years. When things are moving, things can be changed. Putting things in motion is the hard part, a la Newton's laws of motion.
DeleteKeep pushing, my friend. I'll do the same. (After I rest my heart a bit in my wrecked home.....) We can do this.
This is the first time I have ever read anything, anywhere, about being a widow, and how others feel. Thank you Chris. I don't know how I found this, don't know what I was looking for, but here you are. Everything, is so new. Sometimes the sorrow is so deep there are no tears. I'm trying to find the hope. I lost my husband Henry, 3 and a half months ago. We live on a little island in the Caribbean and have our businesses here. Everything has now changed. I have to continue to pick up the pieces with our businesses. I have to make the decisions daily. The house is a disaster. I'm sorting and separating, I'm painfully reliving thousands of moments that each item brings. I'm packing to move things back to California, I'm sorting to give away, and sell away things. Making decisions about properties and projects. I don't know how to move. Sometimes my spirit is silent as I watch the world go by. I'm dealing with death in a foreign country, US Embassy rules, and all that's involved when your loved one dies outside of his country. I'm dealing with insurance companies who need more documentation than I have. I'm trying to live through the loneliness with no family or life friends close by. I am over whelmed.
ReplyDeleteDear Victoria,
DeleteI am so, so sorry for your loss and the additional complications you face due to your location. I am so glad you found us here...however it is that you made your way. If you read back through our archives (found on the right side of the blog) you will definitely find more reassurance that others are walking this journey right beside you, even though they may be literally on the other side of the world.
Another amazing place to go for support is our Widowed Village. That link is www.widowedvillage.org and there is a whole community, complete with a myriad of life experiences, with one thing in common: we are all widowed. I feel sure you will find support there as you sort through the challenges ahead.
In any case, I just wanted to reach out and assure you that there is a whole community of stranger friends available to you who will listen, share stories, and serve as support crew as you pick of the shattered pieces of your life.
Sending energy, understanding, and the glimmer of hope that you do not have to walk this road alone.
Michele
Victoria-
DeleteI'm so sorry for your loss. What a challenge it is to lose someone so close to you and to face all that comes with that loss while trying to keep businesses functioning on a small island, that I just can't imagine. I'm sorry.
I hope by now you have clicked around this web sit site and seen that there are others who are walking a similar path - a lot of others - although no two paths are alike. On this web site you'll find many, many stories and, as Michele mentioned, Widowed Village, you will find real people struggling with finding a new path in this reality that's been thrust upon them. I hope that just knowing that you really, really, really aren't alone will give you just a little bit of hope today.
Thank you for your kind words of support, understanding and encouragement. Today is my first, first and next week is Henry's 60th birthday. We had plans, they are no more.
ReplyDeleteReading your words brought torrents of tears with such a mixture of emotion I can't decipher what is what.
I know my family and friends in the US care and are concerned, but I don't want to call whenever I feel the need to reach out. They have probably had enough of me by now. I don't fit in.
I'm living in a state of confusion and flux. Sometimes I dig in and accomplish a task or two, then I pick up some ole piece of junk tuck into his desk drawer and you'd think it was worth a million bucks. I agonize about tossing it out. Who am I now?
It will get better, or so I'm told, but sometimes I feel like curling up in a ball and disappearing, just not to feel. Not that I always "feel", sometimes I just am, with no thoughts, just emptiness.
I want to close my eyes and heart and wake up when this is over. I know life must go on and it does. I see the merry-go-round of every ones life around me and I'm standing still, wanting to get on but taking the steps are so difficult, too painful, and full of sorrow. I know I must get on because I can't just stand still. I miss him so.
Victoria, I too am so sorry for your loss. Your Henry sounds a lot like my Doug, always willing to help another no matter what the task. We, too, have a business in the islands, charter boat now for sale, meant to live aboard; the business will all sort itself out as time continues. Do the tasks you can do, ask for help on those that overwhelm you. People will want to help, don't be afraid to ask. Prioritize what must be done.
DeleteYou will always miss Henry, and the life you had planned. It's ok to stand still, it's ok to be where you are, it's ok to just be. We all get where you're at, we have been there too. Time does ease the heartache, but it takes as long as it takes, it is not the same for everyone. Take care of yourself.
Henry would want that most of all.
I try and try every day to be "normal" again but fail dramatically. I still don't want to be around people, just the few I feel are like family. Yesterday, I took a short walk to the lower Cay. I had a difficult return walk to my house, holding back a flood of tears, and having to try to speak politely and intelligently to those who stopped me on the street. I made it home and had a crying fit until my heart stopped hurting. I'm not good company now, I hope to be some day again. I hibernate in the house where I feel protected somehow. No one who asks me "how are you" really wants to know, nor do I really want to tell them. I'm a drag....
ReplyDeleteSometimes I think now is worse than when he first died. Back then I was just a mess, in shock, and could only manage one moment at a time. Now I feel sick, depressed, and struggle to try to make sense of it all. I know I have to get better and sculpt my new life without him, but as of yet, I don't want to. I just know I have to because I can't live in this emptiness pretending to be part of life. I never never thought it would be so hard to keep on moving forward. I don't know how to step out of where I am and be able to take a deep breath and feel free.
Tomorrow is Henry's 60th birthday. My heart is aching already, the tears are already here. Another first...his first missed birthday.
Victoria, I'm so sorry you are going through this. This is hard, hard stuff. I’m so glad that you’ve been writing here on this blog post. Writing helps. Please continue, if you’d like. You are with friends here.
DeleteAnother place to reach out is on Widow’s Village. There you will find chat rooms filled with people who you can talk to over the computer live. They are all friendly and want to listen. You will be amazed at how much it helps to tell your story to people who don’t judge or expect you to be strong. They will ask about your husband and your days together and they will share in your grief like only those of us who have lost our partners can do. Please reach out there.
The pain of experiencing this "new life" is blinding, overwhelming and just crippling. It doesn't feel like it, but you are doing a great job. You really are. The enumerable tasks at hand seem to be overwhelming and, for now, they probably are. You've just been through a meteor strike. Give yourself some time and space to be human and to be sad and to reflect. Give yourself permission to be weak in the knees now, just like you gave yourself permission to feel the love for your husband when ya’ll met. Remember that some days will be better than others. Some days, success is just simply remembering to breathe.
Can I ask you for something? This may sound silly but, please do this, if not for you, do it for me. Today do one thing just for you that is completely focused on you, something selfish - anything. Even if it's just as simple as eating a few bites of your favorite food or picking up a beautiful flower to put in a vase in your kitchen. Pick one thing and do it and let me know here what you did. I’ll be watching for your update.
And, again, please log on to Widow's Village. Here's the web link: http://widowedvillage.org/
Many hugs from Texas.