Tag: heartbreak

Pain is for Sharing

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May 28th, 2023

Do not feel worried about me. I appreciate it and I’m thankful to have so, so many people who care for and love me. I am alright. I’m not having the time of my life right now but I will be okay at some point.

The things is, secrets die in the light but are dangerous in the dark. I have hidden grief and pain, tried to keep it to myself, to keep from making others uncomfortable before and it 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴 turn into a monster. And that monster will eat you from the inside out. Ravenously.

Perhaps I could just keep these writings for myself, but I won’t. Why? Because maybe someone else who is grieving a huge loss is reading and now knowing they’re not the only one who feels this deeply pierced by it. Or maybe someone who is trying to support someone else who has experienced such loss is reading and will suddenly understand what that person is really feeling, that they’re trying hard to keep inside, in the dark. Maybe you’re looking at someone, never having gone through such a deep loss before yourself, and thinking “it seems like they should be over this by now; gotta keep on living…chin up, buttercup” but now you’ll realize how paralyzing it can be, how utterly shattering.

I’m beginning counseling soon, waiting for my appointment date to arrive. I am seeking help with the anger, the pain, the sorrow, the grief. I’m reaching out this time because I didn’t before and it nearly killed me. I’m talking to a select few people because I really don’t want to keep telling the story over and over and over. And I don’t want to talk about it often because it hurts. I want to talk about him. About who he was and how he changed lives and how he loved me and how he was silly and goofy and funny sometimes but serious about so many other things. I want to do whatever it takes to withdraw from this place of despair and rise into a place of comfort, happy memories, and purpose.

But for now, I will write. ✍🏻

One is the Loneliest Number

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May 28th, 2023

GRIEF TRIGGER WARNING (If you’re not in the mood for sadness this holiday weekend, continue to scroll, please.)

Loneliness is an odd sensation.

It can be ubiquitous and unwelcome while in a room full of people who are charming and kind. One can strongly desire to be rid of the feeling, but also have an aversion to speaking to anyone. It is not that you wish to hold onto it, but that you are unwilling, perhaps unable, to engage in the task that would alleviate it.

I don’t even actually know if this is truly loneliness or just an extension of the long arm of grief, a missing piece, a dark shadow. I feel as though I am alone, however, it may just be that the other half of me is absent, the part that made me complete.

Sometimes I think I feel “okay,” which is followed by intense guilt. It hasn’t been a month yet. How dare I almost feel “okay?” But then I realize it’s not actually okay, it’s that the numbness has returned, a quick-footed, protective guard in impenetrable armor who speeds in to the rescue when the dark gets…too dark. And then it feels a bit lighter again. That’s the “okay”.

Scott has been my best friend and partner for so long that my gait feels unsteady without him here. I’ve lived without him here, in this house, for periods of time. But this time I mean without him existing here with me in the same “realm”, on the same “plane of existence”…on Earth. Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in Heaven… I wish you could still be here on earth as you are in Heaven. But after experiencing what it is like there, I’d never bring you back here, even if I could. It would be cruel to make you suffer the pain in this world after you’ve been there. But, oh, how it hurts for me, for all of us.

I know you’d hate it that we are sad. I know you’d be worried about me, your mom, the boys. So, I’m still glad there is no sickness, no sorrow, no pain where you are. That eases my mind when I think of it.

Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things. (Philippians 4:8)

I keep trying to redirect my thoughts in this manner but the days are long and most times the nights are longer. And my heart can still feel that you are…missing. People keep saying you are with me, you live on in my heart, your spirit surrounds me, you’re watching over me. As much as I appreciate the attempts at kindness and compassion, such people have likely not experienced the gravity of such a loss as this. You do live on in my memories of you. Memories are of the past. They keep popping up in Facebook so you’ll keep being there, too, until some other social media overtakes the world’s attention.

But my heart knows you are no longer here. We cannot dream of the future together anymore. We cannot go together on the belated “honeymoon” we have already reserved for next year. We cannot plan out the wonderland our back yard was going to be for all of our grandchildren. I can feel your absence there, right in my heart. The fact that I love you is there but it feels like a balloon that has deflated and is devoid of air, of oxygen. It feels there, yet empty, barren, unoccupied, desolate.

Love is also an interesting thing. I remember wondering, when I was pregnant with Luke, how I would ever have room to love a child as much as I did Austin. By the time I was pregnant with Owen, I had it all figured out; you just grow more. And more again when you begin to love daughters-in-love and grandchildren. So, now I just need to figure out how my heart can be so full of so many and yet feel so destitute, so bewildered, so uninhabited, at the same time. I feel like an emotional amputee, learning how to function again in “normal” circumstances. And yet there is a part of me that just doesn’t even want to function. And there certainly is no normal.

I will. I will figure it out. I’m not a quitter. I’ve had to live much of my life as a warrior in one battle or another. The sound of swords clashing in spiritual warfare is not foreign to me. And make no mistake, this is spiritual warfare…all of it. I am mighty only because my God is. He lets me rest on the journey…or perhaps wallow…for awhile and then He always rouses me to my feet…from His arms.

I know where my help comes from. My help comes from the Lord, the maker of Heaven and Earth. Today seems like a good time to wave my white flag (to Him, not the enemy, ever.) I give up. I can’t do this alone. I’m terrible at it. Fight for me, Abba. You fight the shadows. And I will fight beside you, under the shelter of your wing.

Be A Wildflower

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May 28th, 2023

Two years ago, I got this tattoo when I was in Miami with Scott on one of many visits while he was on contract there. The simple things, like seeing this tattoo and knowing he was sitting right by me when I was inked, those things make me so sad now and then tears come out of nowhere. It makes me scared to go out in public because I don’t want to be a reason for people to stare, especially right now. And I don’t need pity. I just need him back.

Today I’m going to try to go back to church for the first time since…well, you know.

Scott had been looking forward to getting his surgery done so that he could go to church with us again. The last two and a half months, he had been in too much pain from his injury to get ready and then to sit in straight-backed chairs for a whole service.

I don’t know if I’ll make it through a whole service today. I’m going to try. I’ve looked up what series they’re doing now and it’s not on anything like marriage so I’m hoping to make it through.

Most days I’ve gotten out of bed. Most days I’ve gotten dressed. Today I brushed my hair and put on tinted moisturizer and just a little waterproof mascara because I know I have to learn to do the normal things again without him here. Most of the time, it feels pointless since he’s not here but I can’t let my feelings determine the worth of what’s left of my life. I’m still here so God says it’s worth it. He says there is purpose in it. And because he loves me, He says that one day there will be joy and not only darkness.

There have been times I have felt worthless, as a person, but God said different. Today, I’m giving God the opportunity to say different about what time is left in my life, even if it’s a whisper. Today, I am a wildflower warrior.

***EDIT TO UPDATE: Today we sang “There’s Another in the Fire” as part of the worship music. “There’s a grace when the heart is under fire,
Another way when the walls are closing in.
And when I look at the space between
Where I used to be and this reckoning,
I know I will never be alone.

There is another in the fire
Standing next to me
There was another in the waters
Holding back the seas
And should I ever need reminding
Of how I’ve been set free
There is a cross that bears the burden
Where another died for me”

I cried. I raised my hands to praise Him in this storm. “You are who You are, no matter where I am. And every tear I cry, you hold in your hands. You’ve never left my side, and though my heart is torn, I will praise You in this storm.”

I cannot pray right now. No matter what I do, the words won’t come. But I will sing.

And I still want to just be a wildflower…actually, I guess I’ve been one for awhile.

And, just so you know a little bit about what’s “behind” the tattoo:

May 28th, 2021

I got a new tattoo.

It’s wildflowers.

Wildflowers aren’t planned; they aren’t even meant to be there.

But they still have a purpose, even if they are weeds. They are still beautiful despite what people may think because God created them just as they are.

They were already a part of His plan. And despite the struggle, they keep coming back. No matter what mows them down or plucks them up, they rise again, reaching for Heaven. Wildflowers are warriors.

Be a wildflower.

Nothing is without meaning and purpose.

May God, the source of all hope, fill you with all JOY and PEACE, by means of your FAITH in Him, so that your hope will continue to GROW by the POWER of the Holy Spirit.
~ 𝓡𝓸𝓶𝓪𝓷𝓼 15:13

Gift from Heaven, First Class Mail…

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May 26th, 2023

I lost it today. Fully lost it.

The mail came. I got a notification that a package had been delivered and I didn’t order anything. But I’ve gotten a couple of things that someone has sent from Amazon in kindness over the last couple of weeks so I figured that’s what it was.

You’re guessing what happened because you’ve seen it in some movie somewhere. Because this kind of thing only happens on the Hallmark Channel. But it did.

He sent me a gift. 😭💔

I opened the package and there was an envelope inside. I opened it and that’s when it happened. The floodgates opened but so did the ache in my heart explode.

It said, “Love, Scott”

I can’t explain the plethora of feelings that overtook me then. I started hard, ugly-cry, sobbing, folding over into myself. This is it, the last gift ever. The last surprise. The last…the last…the last…. When I tell you I cried, I mean that it was a hurricane of emotion pouring out, felt like my soul was shaking, felt like an emptying of my spirit…felt like…loss. And beauty, all at one time. It was tumultuous.

Scott used to randomly go on Amazon and pick something out of my “saved for later” queue and have it sent to me. Sometimes he would be home when it came. Sometimes he would be in Miami or New Hampshire, or North Carolina. A cute pair of sandals. Earrings. Something I’d been wanting to get for Lillian before she was even here. A dress. An air fryer. There would be no occasion. He just wanted to literally spoil me. He just wanted to give to me. He just wanted to love me and make sure I knew it, all the time. And this is the last.

There was a cute wooden box inside. I had trouble opening it. Luke & Patrice were here so Luke had his arms wrapped around me as I tried to reel it in, the tidal wave of emotion that was drowning me. Patrice cried, holding Lillian, in the other chair. When I did get it open, a silver chain and charm were inside. The side I saw first was his fingerprint. He left a piece of himself for me. The flip side was engraved: “I love you more. 3/21/17,” our marriage anniversary.

I know it was from him. Not some well-meaning family member or friend. I know a lot of people say I love you more but it came from China or Thailand or something. That stuff always takes weeks and weeks to get here. No way someone ordered it a week ago. We didn’t even get his body back to the funeral home until last Saturday so there was no time for someone to get his fingerprint and have it sent. It was 100% from him.

I love that he was thinking of me. I love that he was so thoughtful in his choice of gifts, as he always was. He was always very sentimental. This present just shows exactly who Scott was. Exactly how he treated me and loved me. But, oh, how it still hurts. It hurts so much because it was the last one and my life will never be the same. I will find a way to pick up and carry on for my family but a part of my life is irrevocably changed in a way that I hate. I want him back so badly. He should be HERE, with ME. He should be here. And that just hurts. 💔💔💔

I swear my life with Scott WAS just like a movie on the Hallmark Channel, although now it feels like it should be on Lifetime. I always said we had our very own fairytale.

Funeral Finality

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May 23, 2023

Today has been hard. Funerals are hard but this…a whole different level.

I want to make something clear, though. I don’t grieve for Scott. I have no doubt that he is living the good life where he is now. I grieve for myself, for the future we had planned together. I grieve the loss of my very best friend in the world, for the person I wanted to be beside me all the time. For the man that he was and what that meant in my life.

Many who knew us may have wondered why we rarely did double dates or ever went on girls trips or guys trips separately. We both love other people, lots of them. But we were so content just being together. We were peas in a pod, peanut butter and jelly (or marshmallow cream, since Scott loved Fluffernutter sandwiches). We knew ten years ago what we had found in each other and didn’t want to miss out. When we were separated by Scott’s travel assignments, we talked a minimum of twice a day, usually several hours at night or off and on ALL day on the days he was off. We counted down the days to when I could go be with him for a week. Or when he could come home to see us.

And we did spend quite a bit of time physically away from each other, but that is because Scott had big dreams and plans for our future, for the time when we would be retired together. He didn’t want me to work anymore and he wanted us to be able to enjoy it together when it was time. We always thought there would be time. I grieve the loss of that time. Those plans.

I don’t regret those times now. Of course I wish we had more time, but being a provider and protector, both of which he was wonderful at, made Scott happy. He felt better about himself when he knew I was taken care of, even if that meant trimming the bushes I wanted done in our yard, bathing the dog, or helping with dishes. I told him once that, when he sat in the living room watching TV while I was cooking supper, I’d rather him come sit on a stool in there and talk to me. He never watched TV during my cooking again until he got hurt. He said he felt the same but didn’t want me to feel like he was hovering.

He spoiled me to no end. I tried to spoil him, too, in different ways. We had different love languages and yet figured out how to make the other feel special. I always felt like I didn’t deserve him and he always felt the same about me. We both always wanted to make sure that the other felt loved and appreciated. I think that says something about a relationship. Neither thinks they are higher than the other, both thinking their person makes them a better woman/man. And he definitely made me better.

So, I don’t grieve for him. I do grieve the way he went but he’s not there anymore. I’m just sad that I’m here trying to pick up the pieces and find a way to make just enough of them fit to make it to glory myself.

So, today was sad, but not for Scott. Scott’s somewhere on the outskirts of Heaven, waiting for me to get there. Then we really do get forever.

Forever was Fleeting

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May 23, 2023

I never imagined that grief could feel like this.

I was sad when I lost my Granny. Very sad. I could tell myself that she lived a long life. She wasn’t sick anymore.

I was really sad when my stepdad died. So sad. He had been suffering from Parkinson’s for years and I could tell myself he was better off now, could picture how well he was in Heaven.

When my nephew died, I was heartbroken. I cannot explain the sad because he was healthy and way too young and full of life and beauty and color and noise. And the heartbreak of my sister and brother-in-law took my breath away. Scott was there to walk through it with me, to hold me when I sobbed. To take me to be with them. To join me in every small measure of help we could muster.

I still never imagined grief could feel like this. People keep saying “I can only imagine what this must be like for you.” I know you’re trying to imagine it but you can’t. As hard as you might try, you just can’t. A very precious few friends who have already walked in my shoes can feel it, I imagine all over again, by watching me go through it because they have lost soulmates. They have been where I am today.

I described it to someone as having been given a paralytic before surgery but someone forgets to give you the actual general anesthesia. Someone starts cutting, opens up your body and starts taking parts out, and you can’t even scream or move to tell them you’re feeling all of it. And since you can’t really imagine that in a way that you can feel it, I’m thankful most cannot feel this either.

My sister and I are close but we cannot really comfort each other now. We’ve texted but have only spoken on the phone a few times since it happened. The rawness of my pain and of hers intermingle and pour over us like white hot lava, but a mysterious kind that doesn’t consume anything in its path; it just solidifies and burns continuously, taking your breath once over and over. How did sixteen days steal so much from our family?

My mother-in-law is the strongest person I know right now. She has lost both of her children in less than a year and a half but still finds a way to comfort me and hold me up when my knees no longer want to. And we do not grieve as those who have no hope but, dear God, I don’t know how to wait on that day right now.

Today we do what they call “laying him to rest” but there is no rest for me and he has already been resting for almost two weeks. I doubt I have consumed what would normally be one day’s calories in two weeks and have slept three hours or less per night except one when I miraculously made it to almost five. Everyone keeps telling me to eat and sleep. But even when I eat it returns and sleeping brings no rest. I’m thankful Scott is not in any pain, that his heart doesn’t hurt like mine, but it doesn’t change the fact that my pain is so deep that I feel I cannot breathe. There are literally times when I feel like I have to think to take a breath, like my body doesn’t know how to do it on its own anymore without him.

All of our children and our granddaughter are what keeps me tethered here. Without our boys and our girls, I don’t think I’d bother getting out of our bed…it’s such a huge bed now. Scott’s body was always like a furnace; I used to tell him that he could keep me alive in a desert tundra just by staying/sleeping near me. I imagined yesterday that I would be comforted by being able to put my hands on his face one more time. It wasn’t comforting at all.

I don’t know how to walk through this day. Or all of the tomorrows. Why does this day feel like such a final goodbye when I already know he’s been gone for so long…how is it only two weeks? There will be people there who try to comfort me, people who want nothing more than to ease my suffering. I wish I could make them all feel better by acting like I do…but the life sentence of living without him beside me reaches so distantly into the future.

I will be okay one day; I know that I will although it doesn’t feel like it is possible right now. Like everything else in life, God will give beauty for ashes even in this, as unfathomable as that seems right now. He’ll find a way to use this thing He didn’t cause to bring cause for me to walk a dark path with someone else who hurts. And then He’ll give me the strength to do it.

But today feels like an ending, all over again.

I love you, Scott. I miss you insurmountably.
I was supposed to spend the rest of my life with you. But I realize now that you spent the rest of your life with me and I know that you loved me with your whole heart until the moment you had to go.
Until we meet again, my heart. ♥️