Saturday, June 21, 2014

I miss you

Love notes from my husband - 'I missed you so much today, I love you too much!'
Sometimes the English language feels so inadequate.  I can’t count the number of times I’ve said ‘I miss him’ in the past 11 months since my husband passed away.  But each time I say it, I find myself thinking that these three words just aren’t enough to fully capture the ache that is tearing at my body, mind and soul.

‘I miss you’ was a common phrase in our relationship.  A term of endearment almost, up there with ‘I love you’.  As our courtship blossomed we quickly grew from two private, independent people, content in our own company, to love-struck sweethearts who felt incomplete when we were apart. 

I recall a couple of months in, when we’d planned on having a night apart to catch up on laundry and sleep.  We text on and off throughout the evening until around 9pm when he finally called and said ‘would it be ok if I came over… I miss you.’ My heart sung – he missed me and I missed him too.  We would say it to each other during the day while at work or when one of us ducked out to get groceries or were off spending time with our friends.  He wrote it on love notes that he left on my bathroom mirror (pictured) and I wrote it back in the notes that I hid in his lunchbox that I lovingly packed him each morning. 

We both had jobs that required occasional overnight travel and the evenings apart were difficult for both of us.  I hated falling asleep without the comfort and security of his steady breathing in bed next to me and often stayed up way too late texting or video-calling him.

One of the few things I remember about the day Dan died was laying in our bed that night, staring at the ceiling with my heart racing and my head spinning.  I was thinking: I miss him when we’re apart for more than 30 minutes – how am I physically going to survive never, ever seeing him again for the entire rest of my life? 

I actually didn’t think it would be possible.  Surely, I would die of a broken heart.  I couldn’t imagine anything more painful than a life without him in it.  And I couldn’t understand how his depression took him from me, when he loved me SO much.  He knew I was hopeless without him, yet the power of his disease was enough to cloud that from his mind.

Now, here I sit, 332 days since I hugged and kissed him goodbye that morning, when he left for work and never came back.  The sadness in my heavy heart hasn’t been enough to make it stop beating, but some days I wish it had.  The physical ache for him is almost magnetic – I feel like I’m being pulled out of my own body with the urge to reach out and touch his face or fall into his arms, almost as if my heart senses that he’s standing two metres in front of me but I just can’t see him.

When I’m having a bad day and try to explain to people what I’m feeling, the words ‘I miss him’ just don’t seem enough.  They sound simplistic, light and easy whereas the grief is suffocating and weighing me down like a dozen wet wooly blankets.

I hate that these three words that captured my love for my husband in such a sweet and affectionate way, now feel like a sentence that I will carry with me until the day I die.  What were romantic lyrics between sweethearts are now forever laced with the pain of his death.

I still, subconsciously, say it to Dan daily. I whisper 'I miss you' to his empty pillow every morning; it’s on my breath as I walk through the busy city streets; I close my eyes and hear it run through my head when I'm sitting with friends, feeling totally alone; I cry it out loud to our empty bedroom as the tears fall each night.


I know from speaking to other widows and reading grief books that the pain will eventually soften as I heal.  But I also know I will never stop missing him.  Part of me doesn’t want to – I want to cling to the pain, because it assures me that our love is still real and he’s not slipping away.  I don’t understand this grief and have to continuously remind myself that I can’t plan for it.  I can only wait.  Wait for the day where the pain of losing him is less than the happiness from knowing him. While this seems impossible to me now, I have to cling to the hope that this day will come for me eventually. 

19 comments:

  1. I know your pain all too well. Today is the third anniversary of my husband's sudden death. I write this with tears rolling down my cheeks; tears that began as I opened my eyes this morning. I suffer alone as friends and family have moved on with their lives. I make them uncomfortable when I speak my husband's name. I'm told to consult a counselor or take a pill so they don't have to hear how much I miss the other half of me. Our love made us whole and now I'm left as half of a whole. My love, I miss you so much.

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    1. I'm sorry to hear that you're not getting more support and understanding. I get that from some people too. I know that at least my widow friends will ALWAYS get it, though. I hope you've been able to connect with people in the widow community too.

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    2. Hello, I understand u too.. I had serious medication for 31/2 yrs..counseling.. Oh yes. Much.. One on one ans several groups lastnite 6 wks at a time..one I went to my bp was so high from crying I had to rethink going back next week.. I thought I was loosing my mind on several occasions..one of my dearest friends is a breareavement counselor for yrs.. She even came to stay w me..it's hard I know.. All I can say hang in there.. And Pray..people have always said pray for world peace... Ok.. So now we can pray for every widows peace in her heart..we all belong to same club, as one other widow on here put it, sister widows understand..

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  2. Your words rang true to me. I only had two years with my husband. We were apart once for a week and promised eachother never again! In the early weeks I thought I too would die of a broken heart. It's almost 8 months and the more time passes I feel terrified. Each day I feel further away from him, our life and our dreams we shared. Missing him is an understatement...I feel a painful longing in my soul.

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    1. It's torture, isn't it :( Sending you lots of love Tracy.

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  3. I still have some notes my Danny wrote to me. Two are just a couple months before I lost him to Cancer Nov.23rd 2010...It will be 4 years and yet like last night the grief just washed over me hearing Time In A Bottle..I have learned to let the grief roll over me as I did waves at the beach...We shall always miss them as a piece of our hearts were taken with them...I still feel terrified,unsure and just hate my life now ..but tomorrow shows up and I Thank God I had 44 years with him...yes it does get a wee bit better and having other Sister Widows makes a huge difference...

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    1. LindaLou, I'm sorry for your loss. It's nice to hear that you're able to focus on your blessing of having 44 years together. I try to focus on the good times too, and be grateful that I met him ... some days are harder than others though.

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    2. Hello, just read yr post. U were married 10 yrs longer than me..God bless u.....the song by Jim Croce time in a bottle, oh yeah, that can drop u to yr knees. Many of our 70s songs can do that. Many..but music soothes our souls...just thinkn of Jim Croce makes me sad. His story, leaving a little so 2 yrs old never to knw his dad... Very sad..I loved his music.. How abt photographs an memories..aw.. He was good..it's almost as if he knew he was leaving.? I love his music.. He was a great artist for sure..we were young together.. I do hope it's Getn somewhat easier to cope without yr beloved..when it first happened for me, I was just mess..medication was one thing that helped me pull thru it, however I did hate all side affects..I just couldn't cope.. I pretty much didn't go out of my house for abt yr.. It's just something u hv to go thru if it happens to u.. I just didn't think I would be one of THOSE people.. My sister said we lived n glass house.. Death for one so ode never knocked at our door..an unfortunate reality check.... Can happen to anyone..and then u r n this kind of club?? But most every widow that loved their beloved spouse does get it, because it happened to them..May God gv u Peace n yr heart

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  4. You said this so perfectly, thank you for putting this feeling to words. I too say "I miss you" to him and "I miss him" to others, but you are right, it does not sum it up. Someone I know who is also widowed once described their feelings as "profound sorrow" and that resonated as well. The depth of the pain and feelings is so hard to describe to anyone that hasn't been there.

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    1. 'Profound sorrow' certainly does sound about right! I feel dramatic using such emotional words - but what happened to us IS dramatic! People who haven't been here just can't understand our pain (lucky them!!).

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  5. This really broke my heart. A lot. I do all those same things, and our relationship was very similar. We also said I miss you a LOT. Actually, we both called each other "Boo", so we would call or text each other "I miss Boo." I have also sat in my bed panicking about "How am I going to get through never ever seeing him in my entire life ever again??" Oh man. I soooo get it. I miss you just doesnt cover it, but then again, what does? Now I really cant wait to meet you in San Diego and give you a big hug xoxo .....

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    1. Thanks Kelley, I can't wait to meet you too! I'm going through a rough patch right now, with his first anniversary looming on the 24th of July. I know from your Facebook that Don has his anniversary while we're in San Diego too... Camp Widow couldn't come at a better time as far as I'm concerned.

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  6. dear Rebecca,

    you are so right - no one can understand the depths of missing our Beloveds if they haven't experienced such a painful loss. the loneliness is so consuming, and as you so well expressed, it can be just as heavy a weight on our broken hearts even in a room full of people. and that fact just seems to add to the isolation we feel. it makes me feel so desperate to think of never seeing my husband again - 13 mos out and I just can't stop thinking of how empty life is now - a desolate place without being able to hear his voice, to feel his embrace and kisses, to see his dear face, to feel safe and secure and loved beyond anything I could ever have imagined before we found each other.

    I try to imagine what it would be like if I would have died first. and in that imagining I believe that I would never leave him, that the essence of who I believe I really am (my soul) would always remain connected to his soul, and that if he thought I had abandoned him with my death, i would feel so devastated. I would imagine myself feeling so futile and frantic to find a way to let him know that just because he would not be able to see me, or feel or touch or hear me - that the love we shared lives on, that I would always be there to love him, to watch over him, and that I would always be present in his life. so sometimes when I am despondent with the aching and longing, I turn my thoughts to him and talk to him; I tell him I know he is there, I invite him to lay down beside me when I get into our bed at night, and ask him to please hold me close and just love me to sleep. I tell him how much I love and miss him, and recount memories of our life together, and tell him that even though I feel his presence, the truth is, because I am still human, dragged down with this body that craves his touch, the scent of his skin, the feeling of his embraces, the blue of his eyes, his laughter, and all the secret codes we shared of being deeply, wildly, madly in love from the first moment we met, is still and always will be the most profoundly decimating pain that permeates every part of me. and while I talk to him sometimes I still ask if he can't, please, please just come and take me away to be with him.

    I am so grateful for your post, and so very sorry for what I truly understand is the horrible, unrelenting pain of how much you miss your husband, your Love, your Dan. I am happy for you to be able to meet up with Kelley and many other widows...I hope it brings you comfort to know you are not alone.

    sending you much love and warm, gentle hugs,

    Karen xoxo

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    1. Karen, thank you so much for your comment, you've really given me something to think about. You've brought me a lot of hope and peace tonight xo

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    2. dear Rebecca,

      I cannot thank you enough for your response to my comment. I read every entry in the blog, hoping I can do something to help others - sometimes, just getting outside of myself gives respite to all the horrible grief and loneliness. to know that I have been able to say something that is worthwhile to you means the world to me, and I thank you for taking time to be so kind and leave this message.

      muck love, xo

      karen

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  7. So well said! I tell him every day how much I miss him!

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  8. Looking at my situation through widows' eyes, I can now see how ENORMOUSLY cruel and devastating the things that were done to me were*. To never know if I would see my beloved again, or in what circumstance. Wow! Over and over. How have I survived? Have I?

    I find myself saying "I miss you." upon finding a cute café, or a new trail, or something that would be perfect to share. So, I say it. I acknowledge the empty space beside me, the ache, the howling loneliness. I offer these words up as a prayer to whatever forces for good there are in the universe, and I hope they will be swayed to look upon me more compassionately. Maybe a kind word, or a charming scene will ease the pain. I have become an artist at living alone. And people mocked me, assaulted me for that. 30+ years later, I say to those haters: @#$% you! He was worth it.

    * I have a slightly different circumstance, but this place is where I find comfort.

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  9. Hello, I'm new to this site. Just this weekend.. I have read all yr wonderful love stories..aug. Will b 6 yrs for me.. Stil can't believe it..I must b honest 3 an half yrs I had to b medicated heavily.. I just couldn't cope..being a kid 18 Getn married spending 34 yes w one man.. I can tell u this thru th u yrs I've had a broken heart, however the day he died my heart was shattered, never to be again..for me if u truly Love I don't think it's possible to ever have that agan..after all we grew up together.. One love till death us do part. Never taking that vow serious? After all we were young.. U don't think if mortality at 18.. However as years went by an we were married 30 yrs we started to talk of it, often.. And I said to him hopefully we will go together and they can put us in same coffin, he laughed , said now look it will be pretty crowded in there because neither one of us r the size we were day we got married.. We laughed...and I always told him God was gonna let us b married n heaven and we would wait on each other. We would wait..

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    1. I'm sorry for your loss and I'm glad you found our community here. Thanks for commenting.

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