“My work… my writing… my grieving process… all are grounded on the belief that just like love itself, grief doesn’t have an endpoint.” This is not just letting go & moving on but moving forward with the person and discovering who we become into the life that we need to rebuild in the after. This is the painful part of the healing process. Finding identity and how to start all over again.
I just passed the 6th month, and I cannot imagine the actual physical effect of grief had on my body. The “bleeding” episodes that my OB-GYNE said that I need to address because I just had it again, the “grief brain” or “widow brain” and repression. Repression became my normal psychological reaction to suppress the event and episode that I wanted to bury and forget, that is, my hospital memories with my husband, anything related to COVID 19 treatment and when triggered, I can do things I might regret later which, I did. I literally walked out in the middle of a Wednesday worship service when the guest preacher described his hospital experience with COVID19 and how the Lord delivered him from the disease, while the others were not as blessed as he is and succumbed to it. I have no ill feelings against him, but I must admit, I was hurt, deeply hurt because God answered his prayers and the prayers who rallied behind him, but my prayers and prayers of people who also rallied behind us were not answered. I have to go back to my knees and ask for God’s forgiveness for that action. The devil had a hold on me, and the wound that was slowly healing was opened. I thought that was it, but I was wrong.
During my very first grief session just recently, a daughter from the group began to describe her hospital experience by taking care of her dying mother of a similar condition. I was caught on the spot again, and the trigger was all over me as she began to use familiar terms related to the same disease. I thought I would be able to handle it, but, I was so wrong. I almost “walked out” again during the session, but I opted to turn off the audio instead. What got me off was that she was so accurate with her description. It is as if I was in her shoes, and memories after memories came rushing in; the wound is not just opened but was exposed for more vulnerabilities. I felt defenseless because these two episodes led one to another; with the wound re-opened and exposed, it felt like salt was added to it, adding more pain to the injury or injury to the pain.
We are now preparing for our travel in a few days to visit the remains of my darling. Every night, my daughter and I talk and pray individually about our preparation. There was a night that she could not sleep and had been weeping all alone and when she could no longer handle it, she came down and slept beside me with his brother sleeping soundly on the other side. I did not ask her why because I knew it all along, it was about their papa. We cried together, and I assured her that her papa loved them both very much. If he had been here, he would have been very proud of her achievements and her brother’s progress. She said that she felt that somebody was whispering to her that night and believed it to be her papa from her unconscious mind.
Part of our preparation is the processing and completing our documents online to be allowed entry to the city. The papers are taking toll on us because of the changing protocols set by the local government. Although not required, we opted to have the rt-PCR test done to avoid being discriminated (again), and that was the salt put directly to my wounded heart. The agony of going through a similar procedure, passing the mall that we as a family usually go, is too much to bear. As we walked towards the three buildings, I held on to my chest, walked straight forward, without looking to my left and right, took some rest and a few deep breaths, prayed for more strength as I mumbled, “keep on, go on and fight the anxiety off” . It only took us an hour for the sample collection including the queuing time, but it felt like days of travel due to a heavy heart and it was exhausting. We all felt tired when we reached home, my daughter has to take emergency leave because of this, but I need to work. The grace of God was with me because I survived the exhaustion and met my class, but in between periods, I struggled physically and emotionally. I always held on tightly to my “security doll” and that somehow eased the pain and relaxed me a bit.
I am broken and anxious again, but a big part of us is excited to go back and feel and savor the memories we have of my husband. I am looking forward to my heart being flooded with good memories, his arms wrapping around me, his laugh and baritone/country voice that doesn’t exist here in our place. His familiar scent that will enter our noses and travels up to our memory banks and directly down to fill the cracks of our broken hearts. (Although I have a few of his used clothes with us, the smell is already fading). Going back home reminds us that he was once there, and he existed. I know these memories will hurt, but somehow, I believe, they will provide me relief after.
Though broken, I know that God loved me so much that He chose to give me a man to love, be loved, be married to, and bring up a beautiful family. He took great care of our family with the best he could by providing and protecting us and fighting for us. He worked hard his whole life for us and, most importantly, for God. He left the pleasures of this world by resigning from a lucrative job that could have provided us with the physical comforts of this world. He taught us to be reliant on God, and that He never will forsake us. “I will always keep talking about you darling, you deserve to be remembered, and even if people grow tired of hearing your name, I will still keep on.”
One of the hardest things, if not the hardest, to do after a loss is to reset, restart, rebuild, and pick oneself up one more time. You need to adjust to a new normal with your loved one, not physically by your side. It will take some time, and it is important and healthy to recognize that one is not yet ready and there is no rush. There is no schedule and no time frame. Once we get up, there is no certainty that life will surprise us if we are ready to face another challenge because that’s how life is consistently unpredictable, and without God in our life, it will be difficult. Without Him, I don’t know if we are still breathing with my heart and children in pieces.
