For almost a month, I stayed silent from my grief on social media and to people I saw and met. They see a “stronger” version of me and believe that I have gone past my grief. I often talk and interact as much as I can with them during the day and between my online classes while doing some administrative job. Daytime is more manageable because I keep myself busy and preoccupied to keep up with the goals I set. I was able to control my emotions and avoid the triggers. There were only a few occasions that I could not hold on to it, but I was ok immediately after. Only my son knew that grief begins to flood without any warning until the day ends when I am home. Nobody to wait to, to talk to with the affairs of the day. The silence is deafening. What I want to do is cry. Sometimes I don’t already know if the tears I cry are for my husband or myself because I must now live without him, but one thing is sure, I miss him so much. I try to shy away from my son not to affect him. Still, sometimes he is quick to respond by just looking at me as if he is reminding me that he is still alive and my husband is looking and watching over us.
My children always wanted people to come and see me and ask them to keep communicating even though they have nothing to share; they want people to be with me. They supported me in all the things I wanted and planned to do, even if I ended up not finishing at all. All they wanted was to keep myself occupied and not give in for any room for grief. This is the reason why I try to appear strong and hide my grief, but they know I am not because when the night is closing in when everything is silent, and all you can hear are the buzzing sounds of cars that are passing through until the wee hours of the morning. The pillow takes on my sorrow and my solace as I stare at the blank wall. The loneliness I feel is unbearable until I find myself to sleep.
It will be my darling’s 1st birthday in heaven in a few days. His life here on earth began 53 years ago. At 17, he became a Christian. I was a witness of his love, dedication, and faithfulness to God for 34 years. Personally, and intimately, I saw him “perdure” in the ministry for almost 12 years since he resigned from his lucrative job. I never saw him complain, but I saw his disappointments, frustrations, and struggles, especially towards the end of his life. He wanted to serve God more. He said he still has much work to do, which is one reason I am grieving. It should have been me instead… In a few days, he should be 54 years and looking back, 53 years ago, there stood a man, with the material things of this world that he can get, left all and preached the Word of God to the “despised & neglected” and to people, he met- because it is his highest calling and his greatest passion. He knows how honored I am to be his wife and my children to be their papa. We were not the “showy” personality type. People never saw us show any PDA (Public Display of Affection). In social media, people can only count our message of affection to each other and our family but, within the confines of our home, the four walls can attest to this love and respect we have for each other and our family. In fact, If he is here, I am sure that he will not approve of the publicity that I am doing in his honor; that is why I still keep my post private to friends only and my writing with anonymity including the one that is due to be published in an International Christian organization after getting approved.
I must say, over time, I am getting better. I was not hurting as I used to. There are still many tears. I am still broken. This feeling has already become part of me, and I have grown used to it. Humanly speaking. I know that the one I lost is the only one that can repair the brokenness and heal the wound, and I am aware it is mission impossible. Only God can fill this void and loss through His infinite grace and mercy in my life. I feel pain. I wouldn’t say I like for this pain to stop completely. I am learning to grow through pain, and I become stronger. This pain allows me to adjust and find a different way to live, and I can continue living productively. It is a reminder of my total dependence on God, and I do not want to be slack on it.
I have been candid in this journal. Although better, I still cannot accept my new title as a “widow,” my new identity. It’s still so hard to admit that I am no longer married, being called “my wife, my mahal,” and I’m not going to lie – there is an identity crisis. This is a realization that I need to address, we rarely get to choose our circumstances, but we decide whether to react or respond to these circumstances. I don’t exactly know what God’s plan is for me yet. But I know I need to get up and get going not for myself but my children and keep and continue on my husband’s desire, to serve God and help people, especially the people in the “bonds” and missionaries and pastors in the far-flung areas, those away from the city. I do not know how this can be done, but by God’s leading, He will reveal it in due time. Meantime, I am taking my baby steps and allowing the Lord to use me through the Church.
This journal is very helpful. This is where I reveal my innermost self. The pen is very obedient to whatever I write and powerful because it has helped me release the overwhelming emotions I have without the guilt of burdening the person to hear of my heartaches. With my first article on the grief journey already due for publishing, I hope that people who read it understand what we are going through. The article is not just for the grievers but also for those who “think” and believe that they are helping in our grief.
I cannot say I am already ok. My progress is very slow as I am already in my 10th month. As a former pastor’s wife, I should have overcome this grief with all the support I get from all over, but I am learning not to mind this thought because we all grieve differently. It is not a competition in whoever recovers from grief the fastest wins and will be awarded the one with the most faith.
To my darling in heaven, memories of you doing what you love to do and making sure that you’re living and doing the best for our God provide comfort to my fragile heart. We may not be together now and will never have a chance to be together in this life, but thinking of you looking down on our children and me, sharing the same sky, somehow brings me peace and quietness. Somewhere over the rainbow, higher than the eagles reach, you exist and live. I miss you very much. Agapi mou s’agapo.
