Love is bigger

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I was thinking about Amanda's post last week comparing divorce to death and how perturbed it made me what some people have the nerve to say. I've been lucky that no one has been dumb enough to try to compare the two to my face....or I should say, they've been lucky enough.

Not even my husband, who has been through one of the most painful divorces I know of, tries to compare the two. Just as I don't ever try to play the widow card to trump the hurt and pain that he's gone through. We know they're different and both painful in their own right.

But in my own personal experience, I have recently really noticed the difference that those tragic experiences have played out for our children. I ache every time I realize that Jeremy is missing out on things in his childrens' lives and there is nothing that will ever fill that void. But there is one thing I'm always certain of: Jeremy was an incredible daddy and his children will never doubt the love he had for them. Now that our oldest girls have gotten to a place where they realize their biological mother is not in the picture because of her own choice, that is a much harder topic to trudge through. The questions of why dad was the one who did the things that moms were supposed to when they were little are hard to answer. Knowing that we look for opportunities to honor Jeremy and talk about him in our household is a stark contrast to the care and sensitivity we take to not expose the pain and hurt the runs deep (and unfortunately current) caused by a mentally and physically unhealthy person who wants other people to be as unhappy as she is. I never thought the ripples and scars left by that tragedy could be as complicated to heal as my own.

How could you choose a more painful experience between watching a child that has night terrors about their parents leaving them or a child who has a hard time trusting people because they don't feel safe with the person who is supposed to care for them the most? A child who asks why daddy had to die or a child that ask wonders if it was their fault that their mom never did their hair or bathed them and would leave for days at a time? Which is worse? The truth is, they both are and comparing the two only makes it more painful.

What is boils down to is that it's ultimately not about divorce vs. death, but it's about love. While I wouldn't wish a death of a spouse on anyone, I can say that I am thankful for the love that Jeremy gave me, and I would NEVER trade it, even if I had known I would lose him so soon. And while I certainly would never wish a divorce on anyone, I know that divorced parents are not DEAD parents. But to feel a parent choose to leave is a painful trail in and of itself. I get frustrated in either situation by people who abuse these experiences to hurt others, or put children in the middle of it. In my book, that's unacceptable. To feel unconditional love is to be given wings in a very heaven laden world. Love matters, and when you get to experience it, no matter how short of time you have it for, it changes you and the way you see the world. It makes the harder parts easier to walk through. It make life worth living.

At the end of the day, we love our way through grief and divorce when our children struggle, because love is bigger than both, and the only thing that gives us the strength to keep going. We might not always have the right answers, but we are sure they cannot be out loved.

In the end, love wins.

Misconceptions from the ill-informed

 

I wrote the following on my facebook page after I attended my high school reunion last Saturday night, where it quickly became apparent that the "cool kids" were still trying to tell the rest of us what we "should do".  A few facebook friends asked to share it, so I've reposted it here as I think we all have had days like this, or people who think they know what widowhood is like when they have no way of actually *knowing*.
(I looked awesome and totally HAWT at the reunion BTW, thanks for asking:) Despite the idiots, I did also manage to have a great deal of fun with some truly awesome people (including two other widows) who have always been there for me.
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I need to be clear about something before I next feel the urge to scream at someone: grief is not something you can just "get over".

Grief is NOT the same as depression, although the two can often be found seeping through the neural pathways, hand-in-hand.

Telling me that you know how I feel because your dog /  Great Uncle / axolotl (yes, I know!)  died is NOT helpful.
Neither is comparing widowhood with divorce: they are not the same.

It is OK to still be sad 2.5 years after the death of your spouse.  For that matter, it is OK to be sad 50 years later too.  Grief is like a roller-coaster ride where there are dips and turns in the most unexpected places, but the thing is, you either learn to live alongside it, or you don't.
Literally.
(and the latter option is where the depression kicks in).

Telling me to "get help" because I say that I still grieve the loss of my husband is ludicrous. The Actual Professionals (as opposed to armchair psychiatrists) agree that my mental health is worth bottling because I realise one truth: I will never be truly "done" with grief. 
But I also realise that for every wave that knocks me to the ground, I will get up after it passes because I am made of strong stuff.  And the surf isn't as wild as it used to be so I don't get knocked down as often or for as long.

So - how do widows deal with grief?
We talk.
We cry.
We laugh.
We joke.
We hug.
We compare notes.
We laugh at daaaarrrk humour.
We roll our eyes at each at ill-informed comments.
But above all, we talk.

Because by talking, we realise that we are not alone and we can draw strength from this realisation.