I Am Having a Horrible Grief Day, Today

img_20190913_160639253I am having a horrible grief day today. I’m having a horrible grief day because it’s been 36 weeks since the police officer knocked on my front door; since I saw his lifeless body at the hospital; since our last time as a family, just the four of us, was in a morgue; since I had to restart my life without him.  And feeling all of this, despair has flooded me today, because I’m having a horrible grief day.

I’m having a horrible grief day today because I can’t wrap my mind around how what was never supposed to happen, happened. How the ‘we are going to grow old together‘ changed to ‘we are going to grow to middle aged together‘.  How Death did part us way earlier than most married couples my age, like thirty years earlier, and I am jealous and angered and can’t look at/hear about those couples still together. How I struggle with the guilt in feeling this way and question where the good person, the good friend, in me went. And how I hate – a word I really use because of its strength –  how unfair this all is to me to my kids. And as I try to make sense of the senseless, I collapse in exhaustion because today, I’m having a horrible grief day.

I’m having a horrible grief day today because all my security is gone. All my unconditional knowing Peter would be there as I vomited during a flu, as my age betrayed my body and my looks, as I pissed off someone, as I was pissed off at someone, as I celebrated an accomplishment, as I cried by failing at one, as I needed to a shoulder, his shoulder, to lean on when the world got to much for me or my kids or us as a family. All of it is gone and I feel an indescribable weight on me because today, I am having a horrible grief day.

I am having a horrible grief day today because of the loneliness in my life. I am without my constant and without the crutch of Peter.  I am betrayed by the once important people in my life who chose not reach out from the beginning of my widowhood. I am missing some of the people who pulled back because they have their lives, they have their families, they think I am doing okay now. And I know they are good people and have good reasons, yet I am confused and lonely today because I am having a horrible grief day.

I am having a horrible grief day today because I want to feel happiness again. I want to feel the tingles of Peter’s touch. I want to feel the butterflies that crashed in my tummy when I saw him in certain lights. I want to laugh at inside jokes the two of us had.  I want to listen to his brilliant mind while it worked. I want to know things are taken care of because Peter is doing the taking care of. I want to chose foods with him again, to eat together, to be the first person I see in the morning, and the last one at night. I want all of these again because all of these add up to my sort of happiness in me. But my kind of happiness is gone. And today, I don’t know if I can get any type of happiness again, because I am having a horrible grief day.

I am having a horrible grief day today because I never got to say good-bye or a final “I love you“. I don’t want to debate which death is worse, the sudden or the dragged out because all I know is the sudden. All I know is the feeling of trauma in knowing my husband was coming home to me one minute, to his death the next…literally in a minute, he was gone. All I know is Peter’s instantaneous death changed my life for the worse and without preparation. All I know is the rapidness of how life threw me, my children, into a pit of a horrendous hell we are still trying to climb out of.  So any debate on which kind of death is worse will only make me defend my experience and I can’t and won’t. Not today, because today, I am having a horrible grief day.

I will give into my horrible grief day today. I will veg. I will sleep. I will tell my kids I am checking out today, and then I will.  I will curl up on the couch as one heaping mess of anger, confusion, loneliness, longing and pain.  I will let all of what has happened to me overwhelm. I will think of Peter and my deep love for him, not pushing back anything, any memories, from my thoughts. And I will cry, feeling every one of my feels.  This is how I will rise again. This is how I will push myself to move again. Only I will rise and move tomorrow because today, I am having a horrible grief day.