I thought I was being proactive. I was pretty sure that I would find it hard to be alone for Christmas Day. Even if I did invite my daughter and her husband over for supper, I knew that they would only be there for a few hours and the rest of the day would be spent alone. So I took some advice from another widow and asked my daughter if I could have a “sleepover” at her house. We had a wonderful time. Very low key but it was nice to have someone else to talk to. For me, it didn’t matter if I was cooking Christmas dinner at my condo or at their home. My daughter came down with a cold on Christmas Eve so I’m really happy that I was able to look after the supper so that she could rest. Plus I had the benefit of enjoying their dog, Baylie, who I love dearly.
What I wasn’t expecting was the crash that came on New Year’s Eve. Daryl and I had never really done much on New Year’s Eve. In our early married life we would often attend a New Year’s Eve social at a local community center. But as we grew older, we would just spend the evening with a few friends or family members and order in some Chinese food. The social committee in my condo building decided to have a pizza night and since I knew the group would be small, I decided to attend. I left at 11 pm though because I wasn’t sure I wanted to ring in the New Year with so many people. I’m glad I made that decision because soon after midnight I was sobbing. Thinking about starting a new year without my husband was totally overwhelming me. I’ve been finding it hard to pull myself out of this grief bomb this time. Some people call them waves of grief. I’ve decided to call them bombs because they leave a lot of flack behind and they hit me so suddenly and unexpectedly. Since New Year’s Eve I’ve often been breaking down in tears. I want to stay in my condo and not talk to anyone. I know I will pull myself out of the hole left by the bomb as I have done each time in the past. It’s just taking me a little longer this time. Of course, the fact that it is freezing cold outside and has been for over a month has nothing to do with it! Maybe I’m also fighting some cabin fever.
Sunday will mark the 9th month anniversary of Daryl’s death. I’m still dealing with lots of flashbacks of his last day. I try to get them out of my head but they swirl around like an angry snowstorm. Often they are the worst when I’m trying to fall asleep at night. They invade every corner of my mind until I’m in tears, admit defeat and climb back out of bed. The other night this happened at 3:30 am so I got up and spent some time on the computer. YouTube is my friend when I feel like this. I search for songs that will minister to my soul and give my mind peace and rest.
Some days I wonder if what I’m feeling is grief or is it depression? This is a question that I will need to ask my grief counsellor the next time I see him. The hole in my heart is not healing quickly. Just when I think I’m rounding the corner and making progress, the grief bomb will explode. I’m learning that I have very little control over this grieving process.
In February I have some surgery booked to replace my knee. A few nights ago I found out that all of the people that I rely on will be away on winter vacations during this time. I don’t have a car so when I need to go to an appointment or for groceries I have to ask someone to take me. I’m expecting that I will have appointments after the surgery for physiotherapy as well as an appointment to have my staples removed. Thinking about facing this alone has been very difficult for me. I’ve always had Daryl to do those things for me. So now that he is gone, I feel very alone and not sure how I will manage. I’m sure that this is adding to my depression right now.
And so, what does one do to navigate through this maze of grief? Literally one minute at a time. Try not to think about what tomorrow will bring. Keep your focus on the small tasks that are in front of you. Read a book. Take a walk. Reach out to others. For in doing that, you will heal yourself. And most of all, allow yourself to have bad days. And don’t apologize to anyone for having them. It is all part of the journey we are on right now.
Flatlander Widow 