No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear. I am not afraid, but the sensation is like being afraid. The same fluttering in the stomach, the same restlessness, the yawning. I keep on swallowing.- C. S. Lewis
I only left the house and went to the city for only a few times to work on documents during our six-week stay in the province. I cannot forget the first time, and I thought I was ok without my daughter. As the vehicle moved and the beauty of the clouds in the sky followed us, my hands and feet began to tremble and got wet; I had shortness of breath, chest pain, and palpitations, and unconsciously, I found myself crying the whole trip for an unknown reason. My nieces just watched and allowed me to express my emotions as they do not know what to do until I began to relax a bit and I was able to accomplish what I am supposed to.
However, what made the experience worst was my trip to the grocery store alone. I never thought that the place we enjoy and love to go to with my family became scary. It was not faith, after all, but fear that cannot be understood.
I never thought that a simple trip to the grocery store causes an excruciating and heart-wrenching experience. The sight of the shelves with grocery items startled me again. The feelings I had while we were on our way to the city were nothing compared to what I experienced inside the grocery store. I thought I was dying. All I can remember was I ran as if I am a criminal and somebody is following me. I never knew and recognized that I had an anxiety attack, and it does exist and is normal for a person who grieves. It is scary because it involves not only emotional but physical. The episode tells me there is something wrong, and I am not safe.
I realized the irony of grief. It makes you fearless but, at the same time, fearful or scared about everything. I don’t know why I am anxious. I have to prepare myself every time I go out. I need somebody to be with me because, at any given time, my hands tremble and begin to sweat, and my legs weaken as if I will collapse. There is that feeling of loneliness and emptiness, a hole in my heart even if people surround me. I am afraid to be seen, not to be seen, afraid to be alone, to walk alone, but I do not want to be alone, afraid to let go and hold on, afraid of silence, but I enjoy silence. How can people understand me when I cannot even understand myself? I want to end this suffering, but why am I scared to leave this world?
The familiarity of the grocery store hurt me a lot. It reminds me of my husband as I think of every aisle remembering the many times we shopped together with our children and the feeling of being trapped in a long gallery where boxes of coffee are displayed. I remember him spending so much time checking and eventually buying 2-3 coffee on the shelf. O, how he loves coffee. He is a certified coffee addict. He drinks at least five or more cups per day with the “venti” size of Starbucks or large-sized coffee of other coffee shops in the country. He was so addicted to coffee that he has a collection of mugs and canisters to keep his coffee hot. I know that his coffee is way better than any coffee shop around, and he keeps his recipe a secret. My daughter is saving for an espresso machine as her supposed gift for him this Christmas so he can savor and enjoy his coffee better. It saddened us that he will never get the chance to. He always says that the blood that runs in his veins is coffee. I have to remind him to slow down and cut his coffee drinking habit.
I made another trip to a smaller grocery store with my sister for the second time, and with her around, I felt much better. I purposely avoided aisles and shelves that will remind me of him, but I have to cut it short because I felt an anxiety attack is about to explode again. Since then, until this very day, I resolved that I will never enter another grocery store again, not yet. A grocery store is full of landmines of memories. I do not like to be embarrassed when my emotion creeps in suddenly because I had enough, and I dread the feeling of having the attack.
Though grief is selfish, it is not selfish to grieve, and it is not a loss of faith. Grief, when handled correctly, is a normal reaction to a loss that can co-exist with the comfort of one’s faith. We can grieve and still have faith, and I know; the Lord did not give up on me yet.
“Have not I commanded thee? Be strong and of a good courage; be not afraid, neither be thou dismayed: for the Lord thy God is with thee whithersoever thou goest.” Joshua 1:9
