Embracing the Pain

Once I surrendered to enduring the pain of losing my husband, the process of healing began. It actually took almost a half a year to come to terms that he died. Only by calling out to God and feeling a peace slip into my soul, could I function during many days. It was too much for me to bear alone. The pain was wrenching. I just let it keep coming, day after day after day. It became a ritual to get through the day as a robot, and then cry and scream into my pillow every night.

The height of my pain went on for several weeks until I reached a climax. I reached a turning point. It felt as if I finally came to terms with my broken heart and felt comfort with the familiar hurt. Since the pain made everything real, that my husband truly died, I embraced it. Because I felt that once the pain faded, the memories would fade, and the memories were all I had now.

So as the intense suffering began to subside, the realization of wanting to keep my husband's memories alive, enabled me to embrace my grief. Each day I welcomed my journal time to grieve and reminisce. I'd sit down and journal my thoughts as I cried. This was my cleansing and my time of remembering my husband. Reality still felt overwhelming, so this was my way of living in the past and feeling comfort from feeling the pain. Does this make sense to anyone else?

No Pain...No Gain in Grief

Key To My Broken Heart

I understand how a spouse could die from a broken heart. I had to gasp for air. It felt like I was suffocating. There's nowhere to escape. Nelson was gone- five months. It felt like yesterday! The intensity of continuous pain felt like it was swallowing me up in misery. Though I felt devastated with human despair, my faith in Christ promised us hope after death. I believed Nelson had eternal life but now I needed to find hope for myself to go on without him.

There were times that my anxiety rose to levels that I had never coped with before. "How will this pain ever go away?" I grieved the hardest when I went to bed. The intensity of pain came like thrusts of a knife piercing my heart over and over. I'd fervently cry into my pillow. Never in my life had I ever experienced distress so violently. The pain had to run its course.

On the evening, of the 5 month anniversary of Nelson's death, I was visiting his family in Puerto Rico. As dusk fell, I excused myself for an evening walk. I wanted to be alone. I didn't want to force a smile or make small talk. I was hurting. What would make it stop? I wanted to feel comfort. I wanted to be near Nelson. I walked to the cemetery where Nelson was buried. The skies had turned dark but the streetlights shone on Nelson's gravesite.

It was so quiet and peaceful. I laid on my back, on top of the above ground mausoleum and gazed at the stars as tears slithered down my temples. There was nowhere else I wanted to be. "It hurts God, so much! Help me! I don't know what to do!" I let out a few soft sobs then curled up in a fetal position. After a few moments the pain subsided as if a blanket of peace embraced me.

This became a defining moment in my grief. I knew the pain would keep coming back for a period of time. Each time my tears overflowed, God's comfort continued to take away the throbbing pain. I handed my broken heart over to God to be healed. I could then live through the pain and move on through grief.

If we keep covering up the pain and not facing it, we'll never move on and find joy again. After months of running and trying to do grief my way, I finally broke and surrendered to God. My way wasn't working so well. It was time to move on and face the giant. MY BROKEN HEART!

What I couldn't have- My Best Friends' Husbands

I sense there are other widows that felt vulnerable after their spouses died just as I did. In my denial of grief, about the 3 to 4 month marker, I admit I started to yearn for a male's touch. If I didn't hold such high morals, and if my husband didn't have such good friends that held the same morals as I did, I could have easily gone down the wrong path and committed adultery with my best friends' husbands. They were hurting, and I was hurting, which makes for a very dangerous situation.

My daughters' school counselor had warned me before I began experiencing these feelings. "Don't be alarmed if some of your married girlfriends drift away from you," she said. "They may feel jealous that their husbands' attention is focused more on you than on them." "How sad," I replied. "I hadn't thought about that". She smiled and stood up. "I've known of that happening, so just a warning." We hugged good-by and I thanked her for the advice. I guess that meant...proceed with caution.

I soon yearned to be in the arms of the men that also loved Nelson. I wanted their attention and their hugs. No, I didn't want sex, but I wanted to be closer than what was acceptable as a grieving widow. One night, while visiting one of my closest girlfriends and her husband, I went too far. Lisa was tired and went to sleep, leaving me and Sal by ourselves. We talked and then took a walk around the block at midnight. He put his arm around me, only because I was bold enough to ask him.

The following morning, Lisa was quiet. The silence between us was uncomfortable. I persuaded Lisa to go out to breakfast. "I'm not jealous that you and Sal went for a walk. It's just that I envy the hours of conversation you had with him." She took a sip of coffee. "That's something I seldom have with my husband. I want it, too." I then understood exactly what the counselor meant. I apologized to Lisa and promised myself I could never do this again to Lisa or any of my other girlfriends.

At that point I felt frustrated as to why I was feeling and acting in such inappropriate ways. I ended up going to the bookstore for answers. Reading books helped me make sense of my behavior. I realized I had been transferring the attention and energy I would have given to Nelson, or received from Nelson, to someone else. It also stated that these attachments with inappropriate people could even lead to committing adultery. "Oh, no!" I couldn't believe I was reading this.

Since I was just beginning to come out of my shock and denial, I started to feel some emotion. I learned that using gratifications, to escape the emotional turmoil was common. I was still fighting grief because I didn't want to feel the pain. As I studied the stages of grief, only until the emotional pain was purged, could I then let go of my past and forward with my life. Oh, I knew I had a long way to go from this point. But I would just do it, with God's help, one day at a time!

Am I alone here, or has others felt exactly the same????

Denial in Grief: Catch Me if You Can!

Once the shock and numbness wore off after my husband's death, it felt like adrenaline began pumping through my body at an accelerated speed. It wasn't time to accept what happened. Nor was it time to feel the pain...because it was going to be explosive. And I wasn't sure I could handle it. So I had to run from it!

So what would make me feel good and forget my pain for a while? For some widows, it might be shopping or working. For me, it was going on road trips to visit family and friends. It had been 2 months that I had become a young widow. I HATED THAT WORD! We had lived in California prior to living in Florida so my intent was to visit my friends I hadn't seen for a few years. It started out as an innocent summer trip, cross country, from Florida to California, with my 2 daughters.

The more friends I reunited with on our trip, the more joy I felt. I quickly realized, this numbed my pain. When I began to slow down, I'd feel an ache. This made me run faster. I began to overindulge in drinking, eating, and gambling. We also drove to Las Vegas to visit family. After unlimited rum and cokes one evening, and not remembering how much money from sympathy cards I had spent on slot machines, I was running at full speed and had no intentions of slowing down.

Once we left Las Vegas, and were returning to California for one more week, I felt like I was on a Merry-Go-Round and couldn't get off. I knew I was running out of control, but I couldn't stop. If I stopped, I knew I'd feel the pain. The faster I ran, the harder it was for me to stop. I was on a high while seeing friends, eating good food, and drinking to numb any kind of pain that was trying to surface. I tried to convince myself that I could keep up the pace, and grief would never catch up.

But probably everyone knew, including me deep down, that grief would eventually catch up. It usually does. I couldn't run forever. I could only take so many trips. Money would run out. I did have to buy new clothes after summer because I gained 20 lbs.! And I didn't like the way hangovers felt. So at the end of that summer it all came to a stop. With God's help, I believe He pushed me off my ride and showed me that it was time to open my heart and grieve.

SHOCK! Safe in God's Cocoon

I glanced up toward the hospital ceiling, "Can you see me? Do you know that you died? Are you hovering over me, or did you go towards the light?"

I believed my husband's death marked a time to rejoice. I felt that we'd all be in heaven one day and see our family and friends again. Why should we cry? What's so sad about death? My only sadness was for my fatherless children.

As I settled in for the first night as a widow, I lay staring at the ceiling. "Nelson, where are you? Can you hear me? I wish I'd die, too, so we could go to heaven together." My thoughts raced back and forth all night between imagining my husband's adventure to heaven and planning his memorial service. The joy I felt came from knowing he no longer lived in pain but in eternal peace. I kept thinking, "How cool is that! Isn't that where we all hope to be one day if we're Christians?"

I tried to stay in this spiritual realm for as long as possible. I felt happy, safe, and peaceful. Besides, it looked so dreadful how family and friends were mourning. I wanted to stay in my happy place and be happy for my husband. Because of my faith, I knew that he was ok. I realized that my family and friends needed to grieve in their own ways, even if I didn't understand. Probably many of them couldn't comprehend God's cocoon I was living in that sheltered me from the pain.

"Cindy, I've watched you today," said Fran, a friend from church. "You're a tremendous witness for God. I see how He's filled you with strength and peace. I noticed how you shared your faith, hope and beliefs to others."

For a month, God did fill me with His strength and peace. I could not have done it on my own. I only wished I could have stayed in His cocoon forever!

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!