I’ve been feeling like a faucet. Pretty sure I’ve cried every day in the last two weeks.
Some days it’s just my eyes watering when a memory of Chaz come to mind.
Some days the tears roll down my cheeks when the ache in my heart is too strong.
Some days the waterworks start and stop. Start and stop. Start and stop.
Then there are the days when the reality of my life hits me like a freight train like it did at the beginning. When my eyes overflow with tears and I’m gasping for a breath. Tears and snot mingle. And I want to crawl into bed and run away at the same time.
My tears express the grief that I carry and the love I still carry for Chaz.
“There is a sacredness in tears. They are not the mark of weakness, but of power. They speak more eloquently than ten thousand tongues. They are the messengers of overwhelming grief, of deep contrition, and of unspeakable love.”
My grief is my own. It doesn’t belong to anyone else. Which means how I work through things, how I show grief and how I move forward cannot be compared to anyone else’s journey or what people think it should look like.
I’ve had people close to me feel like they can’t share with me what’s going on in their life because they are comparing their grief to mine. My grief isn’t greater. It’s different.
I do have moments where I fall into the temptation of comparing my grief to others. I remember in the beginning being in Facebook groups for widows and COVID widows and thinking that I wasn’t grieving the right way based on what others were sharing. But I’ve learned that grieving my way doesn’t mean that my grief isn’t more or less than any other person’s grief.
If I’m not comparing my grief and my journey then you shouldn’t compare either.
A few days ago I posted this on my Instagram story.
I got lots of love and a couple messages from this story and I wanted to share a little bit more of my thoughts on when grief attacks.
Grief Is Always There
My grief is always with me. The loss of my husband and the way that he died is always with me. Time doesn’t make the grief go away. But with time I have learned and even have come accustomed to carrying this loss with me. I have lots of days where I laugh and smile. Lots of days where I don’t cry. But I still have days where I do cry. Days that I’m really quiet and get lost in the memories and the what-ifs. I still can’t believe on some days that this is my life. Sometimes it feels like my life with Chaz was dream and I’m now awake in realty.
Triggers and Reactions
Because the grief is always with me it can be triggered. Triggers can be something in a tv show, movie or music. Sometimes seeing someone who kind of looks like Chaz or acts like him triggers me. Seeing couples together can be a trigger. Meeting a new person and realizing they will never know Chaz. Conversations about COVID and death are also triggers. And sometimes what was a trigger the month before doesn’t trigger me the next time I encounter it.
When my grief is triggered, I can feel it more intensely. I feel like crying or I do cry. I feel like I can’t breathe. Sudden exhaustion or anxiety comes. My body physically feels the pain and loss. Sometimes though the trigger makes me laugh or express dry/dark humor. I remember talking with someone and the conversation was about farting. Next thing I knew I was laughing and crying because I was reminded of how gassy Chaz was!
When It Happens
Best case scenario for me when grief attacks is that I’m alone. Or with select people who I’m really comfortable being around and being vulnerable with. I prefer to have privacy when I’m crying and having an intense reaction to a trigger. But triggers can come at any time. In public, at work or a social gathering with newish people.
I’m not about drawing attention to myself so when I was at a social gathering with people I’m still getting to know and the conversation shifted to having a will, medical directives and death, I:
Breathed
Held myself together
Moved through the grief and not ignore it
And really hoped that no one noticed what was going on
Aftermath
I came out on the other side of that intense grief attack and was able to enjoy the rest of the evening. I know that if I had expressed the grief in a more visible way that it would have been ok. To me it’s more about acknowledging the grief that I feel in a way that makes sense to me in that moment. I can’t care about what other’s might think or feel if they are present. I have to honor my grief.
