Crying was easier in the first year after suddenly losing my wife. It felt right, like what I was supposed to do. It felt cleansing. I could write about her, read her emails to me, or look through her pictures and the tears were so perfect that I could keep reading, writing, and looking through them. It washed away layers of pain and weight, giving me fresh strength and positivity almost every day for months.
It cleared my mind and my heart and opened them to new possibilities and opportunities for love. I threw myself into this new world and got hurt as I entered my second year as a widower. I don’t regret embracing my vulnerability for a moment, it’s freeing and downright wonderful to know that I can love again. To know that I can lose again and be back on my feet before the count starts.
I don’t know if that’s why the crying is different now. I don’t know if it’s just the way grief works. Maybe I’ve reached a deeper well of emotion. I’ve discovered, and rediscovered, many things about myself in the last year. Perhaps my pain brought me to a place where I could love more deeply, and therefore, hurt more deeply.
So the crying is awful now. It’s the convulsing, muscle seizing, hideaway-and-wonder-if-it-will-stop kind of stuff. It’s not often, but it is brutal. It has me asking “why?!” in a helpless, mind-numbing tone. It answers me by holding me down and barking my mistakes at me. And it only takes my energy when it’s done with me. There’s no cleansing or feeling of freedom from the pain, just aching exhaustion.
I’m a zombie for a little while. Meditation, prayer, laughter with my boys, dancing, singing…none of my tricks work. It’s like I’ve been dragged to the underworld and just have to wait for Charon to ferry me back to the living. There’s a fee and it’s a non-negotiable amount of time.
All this and I still believe I’m right where I’m supposed to be. I’m figuring things out, or I’m insane.
God bless,
Jason
Oh Jason, I ache with you.
The second year is often harder than the first because somehow we’re have the mistaken idea that we should be better now – maybe even “over it.” But it doesn’t work that way. We never get “over it”. We learn to live with it. Eventually the waves of grief lessen in intensity and frequency.
Embrace the pain. It is testimony to the depth of love you shared – even if it was not always expressed as you wish it had been.
The tears are still cleansing. Still healing. There is no way to avoid it. Give yourself permission to sob and scream at the pain. Schedule a time in your day to let it flow.
Know you are not alone.