We've all done it (or still do): picked at a scab and ending up making it bleed freely again. Then trying to be extra cautious to leave the wound alone and let it heal only to rip the scab off again either intentionally or unintentionally a few more times.
Grief is often like that. You are wounded but the mind and body try to heal itself. Not a scab exactly but an empty place in your head that keeps you from thinking about your loss. Then something comes along and rips the wound open again: bleeding those memories back into focus.
In the beginning everything did that to me. Going to church, a song on the radio, kind words spoken by friends, even poison ivy (you'll understand that later when I get to the post about our first date). Everything reminded me of Jeff and thus everything reminded me of his loss and the pain I was in. It's overwhelming and exhausting.
One thing that hit me was how much of my life was intertwined with Jeff. I know I was married to him, but even things from "my corner" of the world at work would make me think of Jeff. Nothing was safe. Jeff and I spent a lot of time together, most of our leisure activities were together, and we talked all the time. It was not unusual for me to get a dozen emails from Jeff in a day and he'd still call me five times.
I missed having him to talk to and so I filled the air space by talking about him. My poor co-worker AH, he got to listen to me prattle on and on about my husband. I had a mostly captive audience and he never met Jeff. What a perfect opportunity to inundate someone with hilarious Jeff stories! Every little thing that reminded me of Jeff I would launch into the Jeff story. I can't begin to explain how helpful this was. I got to talk about Jeff almost non-stop to someone who'd never heard the stories so I wasn't boring them. I have no idea how AH feels about hearing all these stories because he knows Jeff is gone. But he's listened right along and never given me the impression that I'm making him uncomfortable because I'm talking about my dead husband. I'm lucky in that regard.
Less and less reminders crop up unexpectedly now. It could be a letter in the mail, a notice from someone trying to LinkedIn with Jeff, or an early spring snowfall that reminds me of how Jeff would plow our driveway.
This means that I make a few forays into thinking about my loss intentionally. Partially by writing this blog, it dregs up my grief and reminds me to feel my pain not bury it. Sometimes it's watching the screen saver on my computer scroll through pictures of Jeff. Almost 90% of the pictures of Jeff with the kids so it brings forward another side of my grief: the loss of the father for my children. I recently went back around my home and hung up pictures of the family. I have a picture of Jeff in almost every room of the house. It may be painful for me, but it's good to hear J2 say "That's my Daddy". Or J1 say "That's a picture from when you got married."
They need those pictures. I need those pictures even if it rips open my wounds. I hope that soon I can organize and display even more...
Sincerely,
Jeff's Wife
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