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I laid in bed the other night, eyes brimming with tears, threatening to overtake me at just the thought of Jeremy's smile or to hear him laugh just one more time. Ultimately, I couldn't shake it and balled at the overflowing grief that seemed so prevalent.
It's weird that lately, my ache for his personality and presence is so strong. The way he got excited about things, his voice when he was happy, the way he brought life to a room....I miss that. More than I think I ever have before.
It struck me the same evening that my grief goes through different seasons. In February and March, while my children were celebrating birthdays, I was really grieving the loss of their daddy in our lives. It was hurting me that Jeremy was missing them reaching new milestones and getting older and bigger, and he wasn't seeing any of it. I couldn't seem to turn a corner without feeling a stab of bitterness that he wasn't here for our kids.
Now that I think back, I can remember going through different seasons of grief. Not just the stages of grief like anger, denial, or depression....but grieving different specific pieces about the man that I loved. I went through a long phase of grieving not being able to experience Heaven with Jeremy, or constantly wondering what it will be like and yearning for the experience. Anything that was different than life without him. I went through a phase of really missing his knowledge of being able to fix anything, answering the questions I couldn't, and figuring out every electronic in our home. I remember for weeks in a row focusing on the absence of his physical presence - the feeling of holding his hand, the physical space he took up in the bed next to me and how empty it felt without him there, the comfort of his embrace. Then, it was smells - I missed his cologne, and the smell of his deodorant could have sent me on a downward spiral of tears....I even missed the smelly work clothes wreaking of cut grass, sweat, dirt, and body odor!
Has anyone else experienced these different seasons of specific pieces of grief? I call them seasons because they inevitably come back around. I will eventually grieve those pieces again in different situations along the way. And I also wonder what other pieces of him I haven't fully grieved yet.
Ultimately, it's all pieces of the same whole. All the parts that made up the man that I fell in love with. I grieve him completely, and apparently separately for all the different voids he left in my life. Different views of the same heart. Seasons taking affect on the same tree. But, oh, that tree sure was beautiful. I will miss it in every season.
Yes. The smell.
ReplyDeleteFor the first few months I would occasionally stick my face into Dave’s closet and smell his shirts. (Very sad when that faded away.) When he died I threw out his toiletries except for his spray cologne. Occasionally I would spray it into his closet. (I actually finally brought myself to clear out his clothes last weekend, so now almost all of his clothes are sorted into boxes to be given away and/or donated. Won’t even be able to spray his cologne and smell his clothes anymore...)
The smell from his cologne was missing the extra element of his own body odour. He was a carpentry teacher - so it was that cut woody smell.)I have occasionally visited his old co-workers and sometimes walking into the shop stops me in my track with that once familiar smell.
And Yes. Just his presence around the house. I still occasionally visualize him here with me in the house. Sometimes it makes me smile, and sometimes it makes me cry.
Dave too could bring a room to life. He was larger than life sometimes. He could be hilarious. Have a whole room bent over in laughter. Man, I miss his laughter and his smile.
It’s been almost 3 years and I still can’t grasp that.
It’s definitely like seasons. Everything just seems to roll back around again. Most of the time now I think I’m OK and will be fine and am actually happy, but there are still times that I don’t think I can live another year, week, or minute without him.
The guy that took Jeremy's job after he passed is a friend of ours, and if I ever see him after he's been at work all day, sometimes I can't get too close to him because he smells like Jer and it's too hard.
DeleteGlad to know we're not alone. And glad to know
You're finding seasons of happiness or "ok"ness in between.
Oh my gosh, as I read this I felt like someone had been peeking into my head and heart. All of the above. I love the seasons analogy, it fits perfectly.
ReplyDeleteSmells get me too. My husband was a landscape designer and I treasure some of those smells-- freshly turned soil and mulch, irrigation pipe glue, sweat from the Texas sun on his t-shirts, or his favorite cologne or shampoo when he cleaned up. I keep his closet door shut so that when I open it, I can still put my face in his clothes and breathe in his scents. I sleep in his t-shirts, some so worn they are threadbare in places. It's only been 4 1/2 months and I think I've just decided not to do anything with his clothes until the scent fades away. I guess scents would be my favorite "season".
Don't do anything with that stuff until YOU are ready. The only thing I have left with Jer's scent after 2 1/2 years is binocular case that was with him when he died and his wallet. I cherish them both.
DeleteSmells are definitely one of the strongest seasons? Something about smells can almost bring things to life. Almost.
Marty used to wear a signature cologne. I save it, but it makes me sadder rather than happy. I knew one day I'd be out and smell it again.....and I did, on an Urgent Care doc; I wanted him just to linger so I could close my eyes and breathe in what used to be part of my life.
ReplyDeleteThose onsets, especially when they're unexpected, can really knock you to your knees. My boys like to wear Jer's cologne (they ask me if they can smell like daddy) and it has become more sweet now because I can pass on a tangible connection of senses between them and their dad. But like you, sometimes I just want to close my eyes and take it all in.
DeleteWhen I smell the cologne he wore on someone, I often have to leave the surroundings, it is so strong of a trigger. Like you Valerie, that cut wood smell gets me, too. He was a carpenter, and I helped at many a jobsite. I'm purging the shed of excess wood scraps, and often cut some up just to smell it. Gotta get my fix somehow.
ReplyDelete"Get my fix" - exactly. I keep Jers wallet and binocular case close by so I can smell it when I feel like I need to.
DeleteThank you for writing this... it was a beautiful comparison and reminded me of such phases in my own life. "Completely and separately" - that was a great line - it is so exactly like that. Every few weeks seem to be a different focus.
ReplyDeleteThanks for your encouragement, Sarah. And thanks for reading.
ReplyDelete