Alone, again
Most of my adulthood I’ve been a single mom. Yes, of course it’s rewarding - but I’ve always wanted a partner. I have always felt like the odd person out at work, at school functions for my kid, even in my own family. Last year I met Rick and just went for it. He was 20 years older than me but we understood in each other in a way I’ve never experienced. He had been a single father (although all of his kids were grown and living out of state by the time we met) and he was a great presence in my daughter’s life. For the last year I felt like I had what I always wanted, a family. He asked me to move in with him and right before Thanksgiving I leased our home and we packed up our stuff and started the move. In the midst of the move, Rick had a heart attack and died. It was the most horrible time of my life. We were able to move back into our home and somehow the holidays passed in a blur. I remember smiling numbly at the funeral, meeting many of his family members for the first and last time. I don’t remember crying. Now it’s the new year and all I can do is cry. I don’t want to go to work. I don’t want to leave my house. I don’t want to cook food and I don’t want to eat. I know I have to be a better mom for my daughter but I just can’t right now. The hospital sent me a packet about grief and support groups, but I don’t fit into any of them - I wasn’t his wife. I am devastated not just because Rick is gone, but because I waiting my whole life for him and I don’t think I’ll ever have another partner. I just don’t want to live this life alone any more. I don’t fit anywhere. Is this grief? When does it end?
Oh dear woman, the pain in your story is massive. Yes, this is grief. Reconnecting with our strength can feel exhausting. If you only do one thing today, do something good for yourself. A seven minute walk in the sunshine. Google a local therapist and make an appointment. Eat something fresh, healthy, something that makes you feel good. Caring for yourself is priority number one right now. You have permission to cry and wail, and you have permission to build yourself back up, one walk, one meal, one load of laundry at a time. When does it end? It ends in bits and pieces. In the beginning those bits and pieces are the space of a breath or a heart beat. With practice, those bits and pieces string together into longer moments of peace, contentment and yes, even joy.
Grief can feel like an external event - much like love - something that’s happening TO us. However, grief is an internal and a normal response to loss. It makes perfect sense that your heart would be broken into a million pieces by these events. One thing we can do when the pain is overwhelming is to settle down into this very moment. Your partner tragically died and the life you wanted disappeared before your eyes. One truth is that he is gone - the worst has happened. Rebuilding can begin now. Another truth is that you’ve already lived most of your life independently, strongly, doing what needs to be done to care for yourself and your daughter - YOUR FAMILY. In her teaching and writing about resilient families, Dorothy Becvar said, “A family is whatever and however it defines itself to be.” You and your daughter are already a complete family, if you choose to see it that way. I bet she does. I bet she knows how strong and amazing you are, and I bet she loves you more than the stars in the sky…even though children aren’t known for expressing such things.
As far as being the “odd woman out” in grief groups, I’d say give them a shot. It’s surprising for all of us how we are brought together by the common leveling of loss. We have all lost the life we wanted. We all have to pick up the pieces of our broken hearts and put them together in a new way. You feel very alone right now, and that’s understandable. You’re not the first to experience this kind of devastating plot twist in life. There is a great website out there that might speak to you: www.modernloss.com - it’s tagline says “beginners welcome.” I’d say you’re already an expert on thriving in spite of circumstances, but you may find companionship there, and even the opportunity to offer companionship to someone else. You have a lot of grit and wisdom to offer. A common grief expression is: “a broken heart still beats.” Let your light shine dear woman.