Letting Go.....
People - mostly people who have never had to suffer through the death of a loved one - think that there is a certain time when you just let go, when somehow the pain diminishes, and you can "move on" with your life. Some people assume this happens after you bury your loved one as a sign/type of "closure".
I just got back today from a 4 day trip with the kids to my family's favorite vacation spot - and where we scattered [some of] my husband's ashes. A few thoughts on this, not in any real order.
#1 - after scattering my husband's ashes, a part of me wanted them back immediately. I'm glad we didn't scatter them all. My daughter, who helped scatter his ashes, felt the same. A weird, horrible kind of panic set in as we made our way back to the truck after we let the wind take the ashes, and our chests got tight, like our hearts were in a vise. I realise now that if I had actually buried my husband, I don't know if I ever would've left his gravesite.
#2 - it was easier to do this far away from home. We had a lot of good memories where we went, and we loved chatting about "do you remember?" and not falling apart every moment. That made everything more bearable.
#3 - the closer we got to home, the harder everything became. I was sobbing by the time we got to the city limits. We tried listening to music, and that didn't help. I should be doing schoolwork right now, but I can't focus at all - because I am so overwhelmed with loss, again. still.
#4 - comfort objects. I bought myself a "charity wrap" on our trip - a beautiful, handmade blanket that donates some profits to charity. I knew I was going to feel chilly and alone, so I bought the blanket in colors/pattern that my husband would've liked. My youngest son, daughter, and I have all been taking turns snuggling under our "new" daddy's blanket.
#5 - apparently, a part of my brain "forgot" my husband was dead. Since we were gone for a while, and I wasn't in a place where I was coming face to face every moment with another reminder of my loss, my brain started to relax a little [more on this in a moment]. When we came inside the house, everything hit me all at once again, like it did the day he died. I was completely unprepared for it, but I also now realise how much I actually did relax {even though I still felt very stressed.}
#6 - I was finally able to relax enough to really cry. I've been crying in bits and spurts, but I hadn't really had a chance to let any real amount of emotion out yet. My eldest sister thinks that means I'm "strong". It really doesn't, and I resent that members of my family think that because it takes me longer to process my feelings that they think I either don't have them, or they don't matter, or what. [Sorry, I'm still hurt/upset/mad that some members of my family came down here ostensibly to help me, but instead went on long giant shopping sprees, spent all day visiting with everyone else, and who knows what else (I wasn't with them) instead of helping me and/or the kiddos when we needed it. I am also forever grateful to my in-laws for trying to be as supportive as possible.] Anyways, it wasn't a good cry and I didn't feel better when I was done, but I am glad I was able to get some of those feelings out.
After all of this - I don't feel better, I think I actually feel worse. I don't care if that's a "sign of healing" or things getting darkest before the dawn, or whatever. I did need the break, for my own mental health, because this weighs on a person so. very. much., but I feel crushed again. This trip solved nothing else, not that I expected it to. There was no "closure", no end, just the immense sorrow and struggle.
I just got back today from a 4 day trip with the kids to my family's favorite vacation spot - and where we scattered [some of] my husband's ashes. A few thoughts on this, not in any real order.
#1 - after scattering my husband's ashes, a part of me wanted them back immediately. I'm glad we didn't scatter them all. My daughter, who helped scatter his ashes, felt the same. A weird, horrible kind of panic set in as we made our way back to the truck after we let the wind take the ashes, and our chests got tight, like our hearts were in a vise. I realise now that if I had actually buried my husband, I don't know if I ever would've left his gravesite.
#2 - it was easier to do this far away from home. We had a lot of good memories where we went, and we loved chatting about "do you remember?" and not falling apart every moment. That made everything more bearable.
#3 - the closer we got to home, the harder everything became. I was sobbing by the time we got to the city limits. We tried listening to music, and that didn't help. I should be doing schoolwork right now, but I can't focus at all - because I am so overwhelmed with loss, again. still.
#4 - comfort objects. I bought myself a "charity wrap" on our trip - a beautiful, handmade blanket that donates some profits to charity. I knew I was going to feel chilly and alone, so I bought the blanket in colors/pattern that my husband would've liked. My youngest son, daughter, and I have all been taking turns snuggling under our "new" daddy's blanket.
#5 - apparently, a part of my brain "forgot" my husband was dead. Since we were gone for a while, and I wasn't in a place where I was coming face to face every moment with another reminder of my loss, my brain started to relax a little [more on this in a moment]. When we came inside the house, everything hit me all at once again, like it did the day he died. I was completely unprepared for it, but I also now realise how much I actually did relax {even though I still felt very stressed.}
#6 - I was finally able to relax enough to really cry. I've been crying in bits and spurts, but I hadn't really had a chance to let any real amount of emotion out yet. My eldest sister thinks that means I'm "strong". It really doesn't, and I resent that members of my family think that because it takes me longer to process my feelings that they think I either don't have them, or they don't matter, or what. [Sorry, I'm still hurt/upset/mad that some members of my family came down here ostensibly to help me, but instead went on long giant shopping sprees, spent all day visiting with everyone else, and who knows what else (I wasn't with them) instead of helping me and/or the kiddos when we needed it. I am also forever grateful to my in-laws for trying to be as supportive as possible.] Anyways, it wasn't a good cry and I didn't feel better when I was done, but I am glad I was able to get some of those feelings out.
After all of this - I don't feel better, I think I actually feel worse. I don't care if that's a "sign of healing" or things getting darkest before the dawn, or whatever. I did need the break, for my own mental health, because this weighs on a person so. very. much., but I feel crushed again. This trip solved nothing else, not that I expected it to. There was no "closure", no end, just the immense sorrow and struggle.
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