A Hermit in a Civilized World

My world turned upside down when my darling passed away. I never imagined all the heartaches that would devour my heart. The darkness of grief was unbearable. That is why I wanted it to end. The world I once knew became a memory. I never felt the joy I had before with my husband.

My journey became more and more trying as time pass by; every day was a struggle; my children and I went and stayed in the province for more than a month to take a breather from our loss. My sister and her family, who lovingly welcomed us to their home, witnessed the worst part of my grieving. They saw me talk all by myself while looking at the sky as if I was talking to him. (He loves the view of the sky, his mobile phone is full of it).  Odd because people will mistake me for being crazy. They wept with me in silence. At one point, my sister courageously asked me what I want, and I told her I want my husband back, and she said in surrender, they cannot do anything as God only has the power to raise the dead.

The first two weeks were the saddest, the days that I felt empty and lost a reason for living. I was like a hermit in a civilized world.  I lost track of time and forgot to take care of myself. From sunrise to sunset, I stayed motionless in the corner of the house to the extent of developing edema. I felt a heavyweight in my chest that I have no desire to move and speak. All I want is for the night to come so I can close my eyes and sleep. I also had some “blood” issues, which I am not supposed to have. Grief taught me to be unsanitary. My daughter patiently took care of me as if I am a newborn babe, preparing my food, clothes, and the extent of wanting to bathe me.

I was different, and I cannot recognize myself. I lost my self-esteem. I was not the same person everyone knew me before. The turning point happened when my children finally got the courage to talk to me. Filled with sympathy, agony, and anger, they told me that I was not the only one who lost a loved one; they also lost a father that they love. They also said that I still have them, and they cannot afford to lose me. With my indifference, I told them that the love between a spouse and children is incomparable, and If it is “my will,” I want to follow their papa also. Anyway, they are grown-ups already, and they can take care of themselves. In pain, they said, we all might as well “die together.” At the end of the confrontation, my sister talked to me. She told me that I am blessed to have wonderful, loving, and responsible children and they don’t deserve the treatment they get from me, and I don’t deserve the treatment they are doing to me.

Grief is selfish. I failed to see my children grieve and suffer. Now, I know that they hurt, but they are surviving. They told me that they are trying to be strong because they knew how much I love their papa. They use the word “marupok si mama pagdating kay papa,” I must admit that I have difficulty grieving because my husband completed me; I only feel that I am just a half-person now. My children and I had series of soul-searching together in the days that followed. I have to acknowledge that I need God, and I have to inform him of the pain. Although I know that he already knows, I need to express it; my feelings are valid, and I must not allow the pain to cover the goodness of His character. I must recognize that God, in His mercy, stands by silently as we agonize. He is simply waiting until we realize that we have nowhere to run but to Him.