LOSS
Loss. Suffering a Loss. Being Lost.
Separation. Deprivation. A person or thing is missing.
Loss. The opposite to winning, gaining, holding.
Where once there was a tangible, precious something, now there is nothingness.
My beloved. I have lost you. And so, I am at a loss.
In my distress, my suffering,... I have been thrown for a loss. Innocence is lost.
Loss is one of those inescapable paths we each find ourselves on at some point in our lives. We experience many types of loss. Loss of personal objects, loss of a friend, loss of an opportunity, loss of a pet, loss of perspective, loss of health, loss of youth, loss of a relationship. Some people experience many losses early in life - either breaking youthful resolve or alternatively, building early-won resilience and buoyancy. Others seem to float through to midlife unscathed and then suddenly experience a cluster of devastating losses derailing every aspect of life.
When we have lost someone we love, we have a choice to confront our feelings, immerse in the discomfort of loss. Take the time we need to pause, reflect, and yes, talk to our beloved as they sit beside us in spirit, if that gives comfort.
September Day
It’s one of those rare September days where the sunlight is that exact shade of gold reigning down on our little section of the planet, filtering through the leaves. And the temperature is so perfect, it’s like someone meticulously adjusted the dial. And the ambient air has a stillness, like nature holding its breath.
It’s one of those days, where we, my Love, would have taken to the back allies, the pretty leafy streets, the forest trails, for a walk, holding hands, lost in each other, and saying how lucky are we? How I loved the feeling of your hand-in-mine on those walks – the perfect fit, the comfort.
But, I find myself walking alone and it’s disorientating in its strangeness. It’s as though a mistake has been made, and you will reappear at any moment. There’s a fissure in the equilibrium of the universe and I’m feeling off kilter. You feel it too my Love?... from your place amongst the angels. I can almost sense your spirit fighting to get back to me through the veil that separates us.
But I keep walking because there is still part of my brain and consciousness that is roughly hauling me back into my new raw reality of living without you. Experiencing life as this exposed, struggling singleton, wanting to run and scream – as if that will help me find you around the next corner, the next tree. You will jump out, with your gorgeous smile and say “I’m here my Love”, “it’s all been a crazy joke, a terrible misunderstanding”, as we fall into each other’s arms.
But this dream scenario is all in my head, and so I keep walking. I put one foot in front of the other, I push through this incredible pain, and I compel myself to absorb this beautiful rare golden day. I must find the beauty in life, I must somehow find the joy, until again, my Love, we will be together.
SADNESS
Deep deep sadness.
After the flurry of post-funeral activity, the sadness settles into your spirit, your guts. It’s a constant ache, a hollowed out space in your chest, a fog covering your brain. And these sensations can only be covered up, not remedied.
Deep deep sadness.
The terror and absolute bleak realization you’ll never feel your Loved-One’s arms around you. Your Loved- One, forever gone. FOREVER. Ad infinitum - pushing out light years across the universe for ever and ever. You wail and scream, but you can’t scream loud enough to eject the blackness from your guts, your deepest core, your spirit.
Deep deep sadness
It’s a fist around your heart. It begs you to lie down in the middle of the forest, look up through the trees; compels your body to decompose into the earth, to release your spirit. Release oh spirit, be free of this dark persistent sadness. Fly into the sky and join your Love.
Deep deep sadness.
....a constant companion, muting any emotions of joy, happiness. And when you’re in a coffee shop or a store and you hear someone with that bursting joyous laughter, it’s startling. You feel miles removed from that experience. You observe it as a bystander with curiosity - what does that feel like, how are they able to do that?
LONELINESS
Alone
Loneliness, Lonely.
Isolation, friendlessness, detached.
Physically or emotionally separated from companionship.
Being alone and lonely, or what I grew to call “Alone-ness” (alone and loneliness combined) was imposed on me as a widow by life circumstances, the universe, whatever great force you associate with in your belief system.
And in my fresh grief, I found my self simultaneously viewing this new state of Alone-ness with morbid curiosity. There is no one asking - is now a good time to have your beloved ripped from your life forever? ...or does next year, next decade work better for you?
This imposed state of Being Alone was one of my earliest and most profound “aha” moments. Suddenly I was a singleton, on a planet of nearly 8 billion people. As a point of clarity, the concept of Alone-ness is quite different from the concept of independence (a point of confusion noted in one of my conversations with an acquaintance, after my widowhood took hold). A person can be independent, functioning AND lonely. The vice versa also true. Independence or dependence – that is a different conversation, I will not be addressing here.
Throughout my life I have experienced many losses and states of Alone-ness (as have many of you, dear readers). My experience with losing a beloved husband was by far the most jarring.
After losing my father and then my mother, the feeling was akin to being orphaned. The comforting calls with a dear parent forever silenced. The awareness, that for the youth in my life, I was now the upper living layer of the family branches. With grieving came a profound sense of duty.
The feeling of being alone after losing a dear friend is one of abandonment and feeling left behind. Stories unwritten, a confidant lost, companionship voided. And a feeling of unjust, that a life in full bloom is cut short, provoking much reflection.
The feeling of being alone after losing a beloved partner is like walking beside someone who suddenly falls off a cliff. One minute you have that love, warmth, that presence beside you on the path – a precious connection, a rhythm, an anchor. The next minute, a vacuum, causing disequilibrium, stumbling, confusion, and shock.
The abrupt, stark awareness of Alone-ness after the death of a beloved is forceful. There can be a sudden and compelling desire to throw oneself into the afterlife. This desire to “go be with a beloved” is overwhelming, terrifying – and is a very real threat that a support network of friends or family need to take seriously. There can be a surreal, other-worldly sensation of detachment from humanity, and a sense of entering a spiritual realm those early days of widowhood. This does ease as the first month, the first year progresses, as the brain has time to process, and as shards of hope for living, take seed.
Take heed dear reader that our society has expectations around widowhood – and the length of time a widow must be alone, without pairing those expectations within the context of imposed loneliness. The framework may also come from those who have had to navigate loss and pain, and so project pain and experience to others on the same path. These dear friends, family, neighbors, colleagues, acquaintances are well meaning and struggling with whatever cultural norms they knew as children and youth. I address this Alone-ness in a later section.
Alone-ness
Everything Reminds Me of You
Your tools sitting in the garage, in the same position you left them. I have stood alone, amongst your man- cave paraphernalia and sobbed, because this garage is you. It’s where I go to be close to you, .. to feel your happy energy, your dreams. We had joked that we’d have some communication device so I could be in the kitchen and you in the garage, but we could still talk. You were going to build garden boxes with your nephew. The garage is where you also connected with the neighbors or just puttered. I would watch for you from the back window, excited to see you lock up and come toward the house.
The parking pad at the front of the house. This is a tough one. I loved to see your red truck pull in at the end of the day. I couldn’t wait for you to come in the front door. And at night, that red truck was always there, paired up with my vehicle, - like they were also a couple, snuggled in for the night, in their respective spots. And now that parking pad is empty. A constant reminder that things are different, that you’re gone, and even my vehicle looks tiny, vulnerable, lonely, sad. The parking spot is like a gaping hole, while, waiting to be filled, will never be ever quite the same. The void is symbolic of the void in my heart.
Your pajamas. They have become pajamas with many purposes. They are noise-mufflers when my sobs turn to wails. They are my security blankets, worn over my pajamas on nights when I need to be close to you, but can only wrap my arms around myself, feeling the material that would have been on your body.
The creek down the street from our house. You were so drawn to this water, the babbling path as it flowed down through the trees. Near your death you were almost desperate to walk to this water every day. I may never understand why, but I now visit your spirit there each day, and want to so badly to put my hand in yours as I stand there.
My Playlist
Tim McGraw (1999).
Please Remember Me
"all our tears have reached the sea, part of you will live in me....."
A Place in the Sun. (Album)