Where are you?

Dear Kirk,

Where are you? Are you anywhere at all? I wish I knew, or least knew what I believed. I wonder all the time if you are there somewhere, and if so, are you connected to us somehow? In my analytical way (yes, it's still the same me!) I wonder,

Can you see me but not hear me or know my thoughts and feelings? Just in case, I think about what you might see - do I look sad enough? If I smile or laugh do you think it means I'm over you? Do you see how much thinner I am and think - who is she losing weight for? Do you see me leaving work earlier than I ever have, and think, why didn't she come home earlier to me?

Maybe you can hear me, but not see me or know what I feel and think. Just in case, I talk to you. Out loud, quite a bit. Do you listen? When I talk to other people about how I feel, I try very hard to choose exactly the right words, the right everything. I re-explain what I mean in so many ways. If they misunderstand, I work hard to clarify. For a long time, I thought I did this because I wanted the person to understand exactly what I feel. But I have realized that the effort is not for them - it's for YOU. I worry that if I get it wrong you too will misunderstand, and you might be hurt. Like when I said I was glad it was you this happened to because this hurts so much I can't stand the thought of you feeling it if it were the other way around. Do you understand me? I'm NOT really glad it was you - I just wouldn't want you to experience this.

Or worst of all, do you "observe" me not through sight or sound, but by knowing how I feel? I'm most scared this is it. Because I am just not sad enough yet and I'm afraid it hurts you. Don't get me wrong - I'm really sad, and I miss you terribly. There are tears every day. But it's still not enough. Why? Because my grief is not yet as big as my love. How can that be?! I should be unable to eat, sleep, work, get out of bed, take out the garbage, think, drive, shower, feed the dogs, read a book, buy new shoes. I should be completely dysfunctional - not forever, but sometimes, for now. At least for a day!! Why am I not? I hate it that I am not - how can the grief not be as extreme as the love? It makes me afraid you will think I didn't love you as much as everyone thought I did. As much as I thought I did - as much as you thought I did.

It's like an algebra equation - one side always has to equal the other. Let's face it - that's what we ALL think right? That the more you love someone the deeper and longer you grieve. I love you so much - the grief HAS to be bigger. Where's the rest of it? If you can feel my feelings, I'm so worried you are thinking you were mistaken about me.

People say that I'm strong - that I'm doing well. Some say they don't know how I'm managing - that if it was them they don't think they could do as well. I know they mean this as encouragement - maybe even as admiration or a compliment. But it makes me feel worse when they say it. Instead of hearing something nice, this is what I hear - "I guess you didn't love him as much as we all thought" or "I love my spouse more, so his/her death would devastate me more." I do know this is NOT what they mean, but there is no logic to grief and how it twists my thoughts, and no amount of reason makes me interpret these comments any differently. Do you hear me - I want to be SADDER - I want to hurt MORE. I do NOT want to be doing well.

I have been struggling with this for over a month now - I just can't get past it. I don't know if the real reason I am so functional is that I am still numb, or that I am in "denial," as the conventional wisdom goes. Recently I read a page in a book called "Healing After Loss - Daily Meditations for Working Through Grief" by Martha Whitmore Hickman (thank you to Sandy B for giving me this wonderful book).

On this particular page, the author quotes Washington Irving - "The sorrow for the dead is the only sorrow from which we refuse to be divorced. Every other wound we seek to heal, every other affliction to forget; but this wound we cherish and brood over in solitude." Hickman then writes, "Grief...can make us feel we have stayed close to the one we loved. After all, the loved one's dying was our last connection, and why wouldn't we want to hold on?"

This makes some sense to me. Do I want to be even more sad because it keeps me close to you? I don't know. I desperately want to be close to you again.

If you can know my feelings, please don't notice the grief and use it to measure the love. Look past the sadness and find the love itself. You will feel how big it is, and know that you were right all along.