Friday, November 8, 2013

I Didnt Know

I did not know that it was possible to miss someone this much. 
I mean - I actually, really, honestly, did not know.

I had no idea that I would go see a production of the hilarious play Noises Off tonight, put on by the Theatre Department at the University I teach at; and laugh so hard that my ribs hurt, and then get in my car just a few minutes later, and suddenly be sobbing.

Sobbing because I used to take that ride back home with my husband, and he would be the one driving, and he would pull up the car to the performing arts building for me so I wouldn't have to walk in the rain to the far away parking lot, and then we would talk excitedly all the way home about how much we loved that play.

I did not know that the silence inside that car, and the absence of those conversations and those late-night theater reviews, would be so haunting and so painful and so unbelievably present. That the rain and the drive home alone would depress me so much, or that hearing one of my colleagues say: "That was great. I'm coming back again tomorrow with my wife" would feel like a knife twisting inside of my soul.

Innocent moments. Tiny things. Ginormous things. Small fragments. Friends. Phrases. Movies. Sporting Events. Food. A scent or a look or a weather pattern - I did not know that any or all of these things plus many many more, endless things - would have such a deep and profound effect on me, all the time, everyday that I live. I didn't know.

Why didn't anyone tell me? Shouldn't that be included in the "So You're A Widow" pamphlet? Might I have received some sort of directions or input on what to expect of some of the things that would be unexpected? No. Nobody thought of that. Nobody knew.

If I only knew, before I knew, sooner than I knew, what I now know today - I know this would be a lot easier to crawl through. Wouldn't it?

Maybe not. Probably not. Who the hell knows? Do you know? I don't know. And if I did know, I might not even tell you, because you wouldn't get it. Until, of course, you did get it. And then we would both know, more than we knew, back when we didn't know.

I miss the days of not knowing, all the many things, I did not know.
You know?

25 comments:

  1. I know. And I miss the days when I didn't know, too.

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    1. Me too....I tried to "imagine" what it would be like.....but I couldn't really "know" until "it" was here....the time for me to know......and now I know.....and it hurts more than I could ever imagine....more than I could ever know....

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  2. Kelley, how did you know to express just what I was thinking this morning as I was crying? I've been in this grief hell for 28 months. I have days when I think I can make it through this horror and then I have a meltdown and start all over again. For the past two weeks, I've started crying all over again. I hear a song and I cry; I see someone walking with their husband and I cry; I cry at everything that brings back the memories of my life with the love of my life. Why, why, why was he taken from me? What did we do to have this happen to us? Why? Why? Why? When will the pain end? When will the loneliness end? When will I stop crying and begging my husband to come back? When will I stop crying in the darkness of night all alone in our bed where he died suddenly beside me?

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    1. I know exactly how you feel and share those same thoughts. My husband died suddenly in bed as well. All the whys and I still contstantly search for answers after 36 months. I do believe, however, that the happiness that has alluded me since he died will somehow in someway return. I believe the same for you and the rest of us.

      Sending you many, many hugs that you will find peace.

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    2. I attended my youngest daughter's graduation from college yesterday - she graduated with high honors, gold cord! I was thrilled - it's been a long, difficult journey, financing being a challenge. My late husband died 7 yrs. ago & I still find the holidays, birthdays & this graduation, very emotional. My daughter worked 3 jobs, I sell real estate (which has been better the last 2 yrs., but a real challenge the 3 previous yrs.) & she attended school full time, maintaining a 3.99 average! I just regret her Dad wasn't here to witness her success & that of her 2 sisters & see his grandchildren. I miss all the things Kelley describes - I hate going to restaurants, shows, parties by myself - it is a real effort for me. Every year I tell myself, next year will be better, but so far, not so much...I have been trying to get out of a crying jag for about a week now - never know when it will hit.

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  3. I hear you. Not only the bigger things in life now we miss, the everyday life of sharing is now gone also. The small things are harder for me because they pop up so often that I really didn't think of before or realize how much they did have a big part in my life.
    God Bless..

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  4. Kelley, we must have similiar personalities or is it the widow connection, because I can do exactly the same thing with laughing one minute and crying the next. People in my office have actually even brought that to my attention. The laughter for me is those moments of escape when I can forget the broken heart that still exists within me.

    I am in the club with everyone else.... wishing so much we didn't know.

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    1. Dont ever feel indifferent about your feelings when dealing with grief, it has been 2 1/2 years without my husband & I still have moments throughout each day that will bring me to tears. I hate being without him! My life, my children's lives & my grandchildren's lives will never be the same. No one will ever understand the emotional longing & emptiness we feel unless they go through the same hell we are going through. I dont worry about going to hell I am living it each day without my love!

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  5. When we grieve ALL of our emotions are on the surface. Our friends will see that as how we are--those who are uncomfortable DON'T know. Blessings to all, Therese Tappouni

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  6. And don't we all wish that we were not in the club? I wish it for each of you. But selfishly, I wish it most of all for me and for my son. Not only have we been forced to know things and feelings we would rather be ignorant of. We have been forced to deal with the wedge that this loss has driven between us, because it pains him too much to deal with all of this knowledge.

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  7. You expressed this so well. It's the little things that crush me so unexpectedly. I know he's gone -- but even after 15 months, I can't quite believe it.

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  8. Kelley... think bigger. Your voice needs to be heard on a stage that is big enough for the world to hear. I won't say "I know" because I know I can't possibly. But I know that "the-thing-that-he-did-this-morning-that-pissed-me-off-so-much-that-I-didn't-kiss-him-goodbye" didn't mean shit. Stay strong, girl.

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  9. It helps to know that I am not the only one that goes through this. It is like riding the waves and you never know when something is going to wipe you out....like seeing a truck he use to drive....or knowing your 16 year old son is getting ready to play his first basketball game without his dad there.

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  10. I know ! ! ! Wish I didn't know so well what I didn't know then. And I haven't gotten my copy of the "So you're a widow" pamphlet yet. Must be "in the mail". Love your wit and sense of humor. Similar to mine. My husbands been gone 33 months and I still can't believe it.

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  11. To Kelley Lynn and all who have commented and probably all who will comment, too:

    Thank you for baring your heart and soul in this Widow's Voice blog. It really helps to know that I am not alone. I must say that I thought I knew, because I have always been able to empathize with others' sorrowful situations. But now I know that I was so far from knowing and feeling this most devastating emptiness, loneliness, feelings of being torn apart. We all used to use the term "heartbroken", but now we are truly experiencing a broken heart.
    I'm approaching the second anniversary of his death. And I, too, am having periods where I go from smiling at a good memory to crying because I'll never experience another opportunity to form a good memory with him.
    I keep hoping that "time heals", but so far - not much.
    Carol

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  12. One of the things I didn't know is that it is "there" every single moment. Thanks for a beautiful article

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  13. Kelley, thank you for "getting" me and "getting" everyone else who read and comments, or just reads your words on this blog.

    Tomorrow it will be 18 months since my husband passed away suddenly from a blood clot. Recently I thought I was doing better with handling my grief and everything that comes with the death of a spouse/partner: still dealing with legal and financial items; making sure I am there for both our daughters (ages 20 & 16) who don't have their dad; taking care of our 2 pets; work, home...

    And then last Monday at my job I found myself hiding under my desk crying and calling 911 when an unstable man locked himself into my female manager's office along with another female coworker. He was pounding on the door and throwing his body repeatably against the wall for more than 10 minutes. Luckily he left, wandered outside and was arrested. But for a short time, I just laid on the floor, with my eyes shut, my cell phone clutched in my hands. A co-worker found me and told me that everything was ok.

    I wanted to say it's not ok, and it will never be ok. I realized that I miss the simple things such as my husband cooking out on the grill, mowing the grass and riding with him and our girls in his black Jeep Wrangler as much as I miss the vacations to the beach and going out to movies and restaurants.

    But all I can do is get up every morning and do it all over again. And read this blog which helps me each and every day. Thank you.

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  14. Wow thank you so mmuch to aall of you who commented. I truly wish that none of us "knew" any of what we know. However, I also didnt know just how much I would rely on and feel genuine friendship toward a group of people whom Ive never even met. Sending love to everyone xo .....

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  15. Beautiful. I had hints. I knew on those exhausted suffering, nothing-left-to-give nights that I'd look back with longing at all of it. But knowing in my head and living it are so very different. I had no idea the ache of longing would be so strong, his inner presence so immediate, and the loneliness so insistent for so many years. Life moves forward in many good ways and that longing is my new companion.

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  16. They tell us everyone's grief is different, I am starting to believe we all share the same grief but it is just hitting us at different times at what ever moment we are in. We are all traumatized by the death of our loved one and our lives will never ever be the same. It has been 2 1/2 years and I still even more lost without my husband. The pain of not having him with me is unbearable. It does not matter is it is sunny, raining, snow or just lying in my bed, every moment can trigger a memory and a longing for him. I loved him so much and he loved me. I think when we have all shared a loving relationship and so much that life has to offer our family & ourselves will never be the same. We can only pray we get through each day!

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  17. I didn't know.....wish I didn't have to go down this path of finding out. I didn't get the "now you're a widow" pamphlet either. I cry everyday.... I'm so tired

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  18. Oh Kelley! How eloquently you write about this awful journey! My husband died suddenly in his chair on March 23,2012, and I think the first time I laughed, TRULY laughed, was during your session at Camp Widow West, in June, 2013. When people give me their, "I know...I understand" speeches from now on, I think I will simply hand them a copy of your blog instead of trying to explain to them they DON'T know... Just like we didn't know, and couldn't begin to fathom. Thank you for sharing your grief so we can all better understand our own.

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  19. Oh Kelley! How eloquently you write about this awful journey! My husband died suddenly in his chair on March 23,2012, and I think the first time I laughed, TRULY laughed, was during your session at Camp Widow West, in June, 2013. When people give me their, "I know...I understand" speeches from now on, I think I will simply hand them a copy of your blog instead of trying to explain to them they DON'T know... Just like we didn't know, and couldn't begin to fathom. Thank you for sharing your grief so we can all better understand our own.

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  20. It's 8 yrs. this month & although I don't cry as often, when it does hit it lasts several days - just feeling down & going through the motions - not really engaging with anyone but my thoughts of him & what he's missing.
    My oldest daughter gave us a handsome grandson; my granddaughter,
    Lilly, talks now & her parents bought their 1st home & more little everyday events - I miss sharing with him. I miss having a man in my life - not just any man, but the right man. And it isn't because I can't cope w/being alone. Sometimes it's enjoyable, but it is not on holidays,
    weekends & special events. I was completely "dumped" by our "friends," after my husband's death. Even his family was distant! I felt it was me & my 3 daughters alone in the world. We're doing much better now, 2 graduated w/high honors, a pediatric nurse & elem. ed. teacher. My oldest has a few credits to go, but with a newborn, it will wait a bit. I can finally breathe a bit easier about their futures. It's just the intense loneliness, the wanting to share thoughts & feelings with that special person. And that special person is still my late husband, Ira. He was all men to me - personality plus, great humor, kind, fun, loving, loyal, so handsome, intelligent, sharp wit - he had it all. I'm approaching a crying jag, feel the tears coming...

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