Moments of Comfort in Grief

There were dreams, and then there were dreams that brought me comfort. Dreams where I'd see my former husband, Nelson, and know without a doubt that he was close by. I dreamt one night that I could see what he was doing in heaven, and that he was happy, healthy, and youthful. Other times, I'd cry to God for a sign. God never let me down. Nelson would come to me in a dream and wrap his arms around me. I'd know it was him by his embrace.

These moments of comfort kept my hope for eternal life alive. As the one year anniversary of Nelson's death approached, there seemed to be more moments of final comfort along with higher anxiety levels. These moments of comfort and anxiety were magnified in my life.

About 2 months before this monumental event of completing my first year of widowhood, my youngest daughter, Nicole, would be celebrating her seventh birthday. It would be the first birthday party I'd have to throw for one of my daughters by myself. Nelson always loved throwing the girls' birthday parties but now it was all up to me.  I didn't like it one bit. But it was time to suck it up and make it a memorable day for my seven year old.

We celebrated Nicole's birthday at the bowling alley, the day before her birthday. All of Nicole's friends showed up along with many of mine and Nelson's. The presence and support of my husband's friends emphasized Nelson's absence but also brought me peace to know how much we were loved. 

The comfort came the following morning. Nicole woke up on her birthday in a daze. "Mom!" Nicole's eyes opened wide. "I had a dream of Daddy! I was surfing at the beach. A huge wave came crashing over me and then Daddy came. He wrapped his arms around me and saved me! I felt him holding me, Mommy, he really hugged me. I could feel it!" Joy burst into my heart. Nicole felt a moment of comfort, too. And what better day but her birthday!

I believed that her father could have come to her and held her even if no one else believed it was real. The dream comforted us and helped us to go on. My children had their own grief journeys they were on and deserved to have their moments of comfort, too! Do you believe that dreams in grief are real, too?

Letting go to move forward

I'm sure my friends wondered why I still had the sympathy cards up 6 months after my husband died. I found them comforting. It visually confirmed all our friends and family that cared for my daughters and me. I wasn't ready to put them away. I needed to find a special place for them and decided one day I'd get around to it.

The closets were still untouched. One of Nelson's shirts had a musty smell. Had it been that long? My husband died in April and now it was October. Many friends offered their help. I knew they just loved me and wanted me to move on. Was I afraid that if I moved forward I'd have to let go of the past? Material things weren't important to me, however, I felt very possessive with Nelson's belongings.

Perhaps I was stuck in grief at this point. I think God knows how to nudge us when it's time to let go. Mornings were getting a little chilly. My friend, Dinah, called me one day to ask me what I was planning to do with Nelson's leather jacket. Dinah and her husband, Arturo, had been our very close friends.

My hand clenched the phone. "I hadn't thought about it," I said. "Well, Arturo was planning to buy a leather and if you're not keeping Nelson's, could Arturo have it?" Dinah asked. Our conversation caught me off guard. What if I wanted to keep it? But it was too big for me. The sleeves covered my fingers. I had no reason to keep it other than for sentimental reasons. It was Nelson's favorite coat!

Of course I gave the coat to Arturo. But when I did, I felt a part of Nelson go. God knew it was time and I had been holding on as long as I could. When Arturo picked up the jacket, my tears came later on that evening. In the midst of my painful cries, I suddenly felt God's peace flow through my body. He was my comforter.

The process of letting go became easier after this point. Closets got cleaned out and I felt like it was the right time. Now the cards were a different story. I waited until Christmas cards came in, then I replaced the sympathy cards with the Christmas cards. This was my way of adjusting. And I always did things my way! (With God's gentle nudging and guidance of course!)

My 12 months (not days) of grieving

These were my first twelve months of grief:

First month: Shock
They told me Nelson died. But I didn't feel sad, angry, or anything. I actually felt joyful that my husband was in heaven and no longer in pain. Why were others so sad?

Second month: Denial
Nelson's presence was still close. There were many coincidences that proved my husband had not left. I denied my grief and was comforted by dreams that he was still with me.

Third month: Instant Gratification (Out of control!)
Drinking, eating, gambling, shopping, and traveling. Within a couple weeks, I was into a pattern of habits that I couldn't stop.
(excerpt from my book)

"If I stay as close to the Lord, like I am now," I confidently told my friend, Lynette, "then I'll never feel any grief from my husband's death." I stirred my Margarita then swigged down the last gulp.

"It doesn't work that way." Lynette adjusted her kitchen blinds to block out the early evening sun. "You're still in shock. But once you get back home, the pain will come."

"We'll see." I didn't want to argue. "I think I'll have one more drink before we go out to eat."

Forth month: Guilt (Coming out of the fog)

Why didn't I call the doctor sooner. Doesn't matter. My husband is not coming back. I'm the only parent. What was I modeling? How could I be so selfish and neglect my children?

Fifth month: PAIN (My broken heart!)

Unbearable and excruciating pain. A knife stabbing my heart. Relentless nights of weeping to God. As the pain released, I felt God's comfort. Only God's love could mend my broken heart. 

Sixth month: Depression (Letting go)

It was October, a change of season, and the holidays were approaching. I started cleaning out my husband's closets. I gave his favorite leather jacket to his best friend. I cried.

Seventh month: Disorientation (Past or present?)

Sometimes I wanted to go back. I wanted to cry and live in past memories. A familiar place. But my children lived in the present and my friends encouraged me to keep going forward.  

Eigth month: Revelation (Acceptance)

My first holiday season consisted of visiting numerous family and friends from all time periods of my life. This revealed that Nelson was not my entire past, only part of it.

Ninth month: Comforting moments

The pain came and went. Moments of joy between moments of pain. We made new memories over the holidays by allowing our family and friends to share our pain and fill us with love.

Tenth month: What do I do now? (My future?)

Should I move closer to my sister and parents? But professionals say, don't make any big changes for at least a year. I better wait a few more months. I just don't have a clue as to what to do.

Eleventh month: Finding fun and socializing

It was time to go out and dance again. It was time to meet new people. I needed to feel alive again.

Twelth month: Time to reminisce

I spent the anniversary of my husband's death with friends. We all went out and celebrated Nelson's life. We all shared our best stories of the best memories we had of this wonderful man!