Saturday, August 23, 2014


"Spirit" © Sarah Treanor 2014 
Living with the loss of partner, or any great loss, is one of the most challenging things we will ever face in life. It sends us on a journey through the fire – into a darkness the likes of which we have never experienced before. It brings us to our knees and breaks us. Severely. I certainly remember this feeling well. Before my fiancé died, I knew I could handle anything that life threw at me. Only I didn’t really know that at all…
On the day he died, and the dark days thereafter, I came to find out what it really means to be able to handle anything life throws at you. To lose a soul mate – particularly in a sudden way – takes you to a place more painful and terrifying than I ever knew could exist. It breaks you right down to your bones. I know… I don't have to explain that to any of you. You have all, unfortunately, been there too.
I feared for my life – in a very real sense, for probably the whole first year. I feared for my life because I feared the death of my spirit. I was so badly broken that I honestly did not know if my spirit could ever recover. I was afraid that I would become dark and lose my sense of childlike wonder and hopefulness about the world. That this brokenness would overtake me and I would not be able to come out of the fire with my eyes ablaze anymore.
YET… I can still recall in the midst of it all – in those first hours and days and weeks – something inside me WAS ablaze. Something inside me was saying that this world can throw anything it wants to in my face and I will not stop believing that this life is beautiful. Or in the words of Mr. Tom Petty… “You can stand me up at the gates of hell, and I won’t back down”. (one of my go-songs right after he died, and still today).
I didn’t really know it at the time, but am quite certain now… that this was my spirit. This is the kind of stuff that amazes me about the human spirit. How broken we can be and yet still somehow, inexplicably, that soul part of us stands up for our broken human self. It doesn’t mean we feel any less broken. Or powerless. Or scared. But what I do know is that listening to my spirit was – and still is – something that gave me the ounce of strength I needed each day to get up and keep on trying to figure out what to do with all of this.
Looking back over things two years later is incredible at times. Because it feels like no time has passed at all – and often I still feel like I’m back at square one with my grief. But other days, like today, something lends me some perspective. And on days like this I can actually begin to feel like, yeah, I’ve crawled out of the fire… out of the worst of the darkness. This week's image from my "Still, Life" self portrait series is about just that. I’ve been battered and bruised and burned and scarred by this long journey, and I will be battered and bruised and burned and scarred much more before my time here is done… but I have not been brokenMy eyes are still curious, my heart is still hopeful, and my spirit still burns bright… perhaps, even brighter than before. 
"Still, Life" is a weekly self portrait/written series I am doing for the entire year of 2014 - all about my journey of living with loss. To see more of this project you can check out my blog at


  1. Sarah. ...This is so profound yet full of truth...I too am amazed at the sheer fortitude of the human spirit....
    You put into words what us almost impossible to explain. ....
    It has been a little over 2 years that my spirit nearly died.....and now...I learned that my spirit will survive...yet will be battered....
    Thanks. ..Linda

  2. Sarah, that was profound and so true. It has been three years for me since my husband died suddenly in the middle of the night from a heart attack. My spirit is still battered and bruised. When I think of never seeing the love of my life again or feeling his arms around me, I find it difficult to breathe. Every aspect of this grief journey is still surreal and very painful. When my husband died beside me, part of me died with him. My life was forever altered. I pray that I am not as broken as I still feel. Thank you so much for describing what so many of us feel and for offering hope for our futures.

  3. Sarah, thank you for writing this powerful truth. Yes, I have been there -- almost five years ago. I did not know whether I would survive, yet here I am, missing my beloved husband every day, and yet living and loving life.