Grief Changes and so do We
I AM APPROACHING THE 9TH ANNIVERSARY OF MY HUSBAND’S DEATH FROM CANCER. SO MUCH HAS HAPPENED IN THESE 9 YEARS, YET SO MUCH IS STILL THE SAME.
by Cherilyn Schutze
MEd., LPC, CCATP, CGC, EMDR Trained, DNMS Trained
I often wonder what others, who haven’t experienced a significant loss like the death of a spouse, think when they see posts from people like me, nine years after their loss– still missing, still remembering, still talking about their grief, still talking about their loved one and still sharing their memories.
I imagine those who haven’t lived it don’t quite understand why someone would still be talking about their loved one, or his or her death, this long after. I know that before my husband died, I didn’t quite get it. I would have interpreted that as the person being “stuck” in their grief. But now I know it is quite the opposite. It is healthy and good to acknowledge our pain, but to also create traditions and rituals. That’s how we cope and move forward. So, for the past eight years, on the anniversary of his death, on his birthday and on our anniversary, I have posted pictures of my husband and talked about missing him. I’m not stuck. I’m just missing my best friend and honoring his memory.
9 Years is Nothing and Everything— Grief Changes, and so do we
With this much time having passed, grief almost seems like too strong of a word to explain my feelings. Before I experienced it, grief to me was a finite, intense emotion that passes. What I didn’t know, and what so many people don’t know or understand about grief is that it is an everlasting part of one’s life. Yes, it changes; it gets easier; it gets less invasive, but it is always there in the deep recesses of one’s soul. It doesn’t mean that we are walking around with a dark cloud or a black veil over our faces. As my good friend and I like to say, it’s dialectical. We can experience both ends of the emotional spectrum at the same time. It isn’t black and white. It doesn’t mean that we don’t feel joy, happiness, and all the other “positive” emotions of life. The majority of us do move forward. Moving forward looks different for each person and there is not a strict timetable for how or when.
So as I approach this anniversary, I’m feeling both joy and sadness – but not the sadness I felt 9 years ago. I’m no longer in that intense pain I was in for the first couple of years. I’ve moved into a different phase—the phase of grief that is buried most days, but also, tugs at the heart when a certain song comes on, or I pass by a special restaurant we used to go to, or when I attend social events like weddings, especially weddings of children of lifelong friends, where it seems unnatural that my husband is not with me. It’s a different sadness—it’s a longing: missing my best friend and soulmate.
But in this grief phase, I’m also able to reminisce and laugh at some of the ridiculous things my husband said or did, or that we did together and even admit to some of the things that drove me up the wall. This is all part of grief. This is what I wish I understood before I had to understand. That isn’t how life works, however. We often have to experience things for ourselves to really “get it.” The difference with grief though is that it has been a taboo subject for so long. It makes people uncomfortable because it’s scary to think that they may have to experience it someday, so it doesn’t get talked about. Guess what—nobody escapes it. Some of us just have to face it sooner than life says we should.
Today is dialectical. I miss my husband now as much as I did 9 years ago when I lost him. But I’m also feeling so much gratitude for having had 36 years with a man I cherished and who cherished me. Not many people get to experience that, and so I thank God for giving us each other. I’m so grateful for the memories I have, and most of all for the gift of our four daughters. I see him in them, every day. I miss him, for them too. But I will celebrate his life and our lives together with joy and bittersweet longing.
In the coming weeks, I will post pictures of my husband both sad and happy, because that is the reality not only of grief, but of life. I will face the day with a bit of pain in my soul, but also immense joy in my heart for the life I had with him, the lessons he taught me and the future that is in front of me.
If you would like help in processing your grief, please reach out.
