Sunday, January 27, 2013

The Bubble


My body is already preparing for the 3 year "sadiversary." 

It seems this has started a lot sooner this year. I can feel it in my heart, the tears are falling often again. 

My physical grief always starts in the arches of my feet and the palms of my hands.
From there it spreads to my joints, and eventually, my brain. It takes me a while to realize I am in a grief cycle.

I have 6 months until the 3 year anniversary. Today is 30 months since my husband left this earth.

My brain keeps count of how long it’s been. It’s constant. Counting, counting. Never ending. I keep waiting for the day that I stop counting.

Maybe that day will never come.

I am secretly starting to panic over the 3 year anniversary.  Since I am starting to panic (already), I feel weak.

I have this vision in my head - that come the 3 year anniversary - my grief will shatter at my feet. I will be able to walk over the broken pieces of grief, and make a major jump forward.

As I see myself coming into the 3rd year, I keep envisioning myself in a bubble.

The bubble drowns out all the sound of life. Everything bounces off it. Even good noises and good things are drowned out by the bubble.

As I look at myself in this bubble, I keep waiting for the bubble to explode.

Of course this is going to be the year the grief magically disappears, when the bubble will burst.

When the bubble bursts, it might be so loud and so sudden, that it will leave my ears ringing and leave me wondering what the hell just happened.

The bubble might not explode. It might get a small tear, and will lose its air slowly. So slowly that I might not even realize the bubble is gone.

When the bubble pops, I envision myself covered in thick, sticky grief. I might be able to shake the goo off easily.

Or I might be stuck with the goo for the rest of my life.

Being naive, I think the 3rd year will be the magical year, when everything I have been through will fade away and I can skip forward and live a happy, joyful life.

Maybe it’s not being naive. Maybe it’s me lying to myself, telling myself it will magically get better.

Maybe it’s because I am hopeful, but the experienced me knows it’s not that easy.

I know there will be no magical turn in my grief. I know it will slowly fade.

So slowly that I probably won’t notice until years down the road.

I’m still hopeful for the 3rd year, magical grief turn.


  1. Hi Melinda,

    I too will have my third anniversay this year of Andrew's death.....and all we have is hope, so keep hoping and maybe just maybe, we will be surprised in a good way for what passing that three year mark will bring for us. Stay strong Melnda.....really we have no other choice.

    Much love,


  2. I am approaching 2-15 my second year sadiversary. I too can feel the unrestful emotions that accompany it. I am having some medical issues that are further complicating how crappy I feel.....because it was my Marty that would be at my side through thick and thin of any and all medical stuff going on; now it is my daughter or my girlfriends. I am thankful for them, but we all know they are not "Dad" or my husband. And most of all I know. Even today, the second day after a 24 hour stint in the ER, I am home without my man, the man who would rub my feet so I could sleep, the man who would've figured out breakfast and dinner and encouraged me that it's all going to be okay. Instead, a girlfriend for who I am thankful is bringing over dinner. These new "Firsts" of medical nature make me very acutely aware of who is not here and the pain gets all stirred up yet once again. Hate this. Hate the death march toward the sadiversary date where I am already reliving our last weeks together. Hate this.

  3. Melinda (and anyone else who wonders),
    If it happens for you the way it has happened for me (and I think it will), then it will be a very, very small leak. It won't be noticeable ...... at first. You'll keep doing what you're doing and staying busy with life as usual, so you won't really feel anything.
    But then one day something will catch your attention. It may be that you see something that reminds you of him ...... and you won't cry, or feel sad, or get knocked to your knees. You'll smile at the memory. And that's when you'l notice. You might not spend much time thinking about it, because it's still only leaking at a snail's pace, and it doesn't change anything consistently. But one day you'll notice something else. It might be that you went a full hour without thinking about him and the fact that he's dead. And that will make you pause a whole lot longer. You may be tempted to think that's a bad thing and get sad about it, but I hope you don't. I hope you remember these words: your bubble is certainly leaking ...... and that's a very good thing.
    I don't think that you'll one day find yourself with grief stuck all over you, but small parts of it will certainly be with you forever ...... on the inside, in your heart. Because that's where he is ...... safely in your heart.
    Keep breathing.

    1. Janine,
      Thank you so much for your kind words. It warmed my heart and made me tear up. Good tears of course. Tears of hope.
      Much love,

  4. Well I am coming up on the first year of my wife's death on Feb 5th...."Whew".......what a year...barely breathing...

  5. I would so like to think that the 3rd year anni of death will bring life changes...but I think I know better. That date is just a few days away for me. Yes, I do feel ok some days, but then a song or a random thought or just about anything can take me back to that old life. I keep reading Janine's words to hang in there, one day you will notice a slight difference, the sadness and grief will not be as intense. I'm still hanging by a thread many days, the lifeline is still raveling with me at the end of it. Life has gone on, and I'm trying to get back into it, but not succeeding.

    1. Anon - I wish I could tell you that there's some magical date out there, waiting for you to arrive on it and suddenly feel "healed". But we both know there's not. However, I can promise you that you WILL one day feel better than you do today. It does happen slowly, but it happens. Please keep breathing and continue to take small steps forward when you can. Some days you have to literally make yourself take them, but choose to make them.
      You'll get here. I think you have less bad days in front of you than you do behind you. That's my belief ...... and my hope.

  6. I found this blog by accident at 3:30 am when I finally gave up on pretending to sleep and decided to look for a financial checklist of what to do after the funeral is over and the family has gone home. Reading these posts in the middle of the night gave me something I knew I needed, a friend I wouldn't feel bad calling upon when every normal person is asleep. I'm older than most of you, but I too just lost the soul mate I'd been looking for all my life. Thanks to all of you for putting a little save on the raw spots last night.

    1. Anon,
      I'm glad that you found us. I'm sorry, so very sorry, that you had a reason to find us. But since you do have that reason, the same reason we all have for being here, it's nice to meet you. We have plenty of people of all ages (how sad that we have plenty of people) so I doubt that you're as much older as you think. But the funny thing is, being widowed certainly levels the playing field. 100%
      There's no dividing line of age, sex, religion, race, sexual preference ..... none. It's all about pain. And grief. And breathing.
      Then it's about baby steps forward, still breathing, and hope.
      And hope will be the one that lasts as the others fade.
      So for right now, keep breathing. And those of us who can, will hope for you.