Tuesday, May 21, 2013


Two nights ago,  I lay down to sleep and cried for an hour straight.
I haven't cried that hard for some time now.
I haven't felt the immense unfairness of my loss so hard for ages.
That bewilderment that he SHOULD be here, but isn't.

....and I went back to that locked room in my brain.
The room that contains the memories from of that afternoon when I found out that Greg had died 5 hours earlier.
I turned the key.
I unlocked that door.
...and was swamped by the intense grief as that pitiful wraith in my head was unleashed,
her screaming ... no
....  her keening howls drowning all other thought
drowning all other feeling.

Her shrieks so loud that I am not entirely sure that my head can contain them.

I know her screams too well.
Her screams are the echo of mine from that day that is forever etched into my mind.
They are the ones that came from my every pore when the policeman tried to tell me that Greg had not survived the accident.
They are the screams that started that day and which have never really stopped.

Most of the time, the door is locked and those screams are muffled.
Most of the time, the screams are quiet.  Whispered screams....
Most of the time, things are OK.

But sometimes, I revisit that day and it knocks me down.

....yet I know that each time I am knocked down, I get up again,


  1. Amanda, I just can't tell you how much this blog resonates with me. I hear "her" screaming too when the paramedics told "her" he had not survived the stroke. The suddenness and shock of that horrific day will forever stay locked in my brain. As much as I try to keep the lock firmly planted, sometimes my brain just decides to open it and there I am in panic, fear and deafening sadness. I hate when the lock comes off but like you do realize that I will get back up when I decide to.

    Thank you for helping me feel that I am not alone. And yes, so unfair.....

  2. The screams. Ya. I've never screamed that way either before...like a wounded animal. I still replay that in my head too. It doesn't seem real yet all too vivid at once. Sending you a big hug.

  3. I read your words and tears immediately came to my eyes, remembering. I don't think those "scream" memories ever go away completely, but I found that over time, as I unlocked the door and took them out to feel them again, each time they were a little less raw and a little more bearable. Getting there took a long time though. I don't have to lock the door any more. Both time and courage to hold those feelings up to the light help. Good for you for having that courage today.

  4. I hear her too, but it's his sister's voice telling me "I don't know how to tell you this" before telling me that her brother was killed while riding his motorcycle and then it was getting on my work email and seeing the police press release with his name in it. That screaming, I can't tolerate hearing it right now and this post brought tears to my eyes too.

  5. My husband didn't die by accident. He was diagnosed with a terminal disease, day one. No hope ever existed.
    I came home from the hospital, after his brain biopsy and I screamed at God - . . . I screamed God out of my consciousness . . . forever.

    NO! please don't send me notes about why God still exists and how "he" still loves me and is with me . . . .

    That day, I changed everything I believed in. I didn't plan it - it happened.
    I occasionally unlock that door. I remember how i bartered for his life, how I said "kill me now, just please leave him = whole."
    He died 14 months later.

    I see the grace in some of what happened. But I remember that night. That horrible blackness. I am at peace now - 2 1/2 years later . . . mostly. But sometimes, I close my eyes, I remember the screams too.

    Sometimes we have to unlock that door. Sometimes we have to remember, to let it out, to say it happened, to hear it again - to understand the depth of loss. To remember.
    Thanks for sharing this Amanda.

  6. Yes, I hear and see her, wounded forever, crying, trying, trying to unwind the tape of that fateful night that ended with that sudden heart attack and ended my life as I knew it. He went for a walk and never returned. I can only hope that our beloved dog comforted him. And that my cries did not damage my teenage kids. I think I need to let the cries out more often now, 20 months later. Too often now the emotions hit me in the gut.

  7. I was so thinking about something so similar today. I thought about posting something on facebook about missing my love, but then decided against it. I thought about the silent scream that live underneath the surface of the calm woman that goes on with her life,but isn't really over losing her husband.Thought about how I just want to scream some days, but know that it will not make me feel better, but might make others feel worse, because they can not help me. It will not bring him back. What is the use! Yet, it still lives there daily waiting....