Those first few months after Mickey's death were pretty horrible. People called to offer their condolences and comfort me. I could tell that most felt sorry for me, but no one wanted to hang out with someone that was so sad. Going out to dinner and other once normal activities became a thing of the past. It’s probably too soon, right? Someone might order a dish Mickey liked or a song might play that triggers a memory and then it would be super awkward for everyone. Give her some time. Times heals wounds. What a load of crap!
Anything social was a bust, so I decided that immersing myself in work would help me feel more normal. Back to work, yes, keep busy. I found myself keeping busy avoiding the looks on the faces of my coworkers. It was like everyone knew a secret that I wasn’t included in on. Note to self, avoid the break room at all costs.
I would have rather put everything out on the table so no one had to worry or wonder what was going on in my head. These were all people that knew me, so being honest about what I was feeling would have been a good option. Unfortunately, that isn’t in my makeup. I am a people pleaser, therefore, I had to seem okay so that no one around me worried about me. It’s my job to worry about others.
Friends were making things awkward and work wasn't much better so I decided to get out of the house and get lost in the crowd shopping. Retail therapy had worked many times before. The strangers that I would see while out shopping quickly became the ones that I began to blame. How dare these random strangers go about their business like nothing had happened? Where was their concern? I wanted to yell at everyone. I wanted to stop every customer in the grocery store that I passed and ask “don’t you know I just lost my husband?”. They didn’t seem to care. No one seemed to care. They were running their normal errands and living their normal lives that hadn’t been shattered like mine.
I felt like life had become a merry-go-round that continued to spin around and around and I couldn’t seem to jump off. All of the other passengers could come and go as they pleased, but not me. I apparently had the season pass on this carnival ride. Friends went about their lives, coworkers continued to punch the clock, strangers ran their errands, and I was alone.
Eventually, I realized that people really do care. Sometimes they are at a loss of what to say and how to say it. No matter how hard they try, people who haven’t experienced the loss of a spouse cannot relate. I slowly began to accept the kind, often uncomfortable words from those around me. Most only wanted me to be okay.
Still, there were those who should have just remained silent. I must have heard “well at least you had 15 good years together” a hundred times over the past year. I agree, we had 15 wonderful years together but I feel that I was robbed of 15 more. “At least he left you financially stable and you don’t have to worry about money”. Yeah, sure. This life insurance policy has me over the moon. Maybe I will take our dream vacation by myself or buy some new pillows for our bed and sleep on them alone. Seems like a fair trade, right?
With all of this being said, my advice to those who want to reach out and offer a kind word is to keep it short, sweet, and honest. A simple “I am sorry for your loss and am here for you if you need an ear to listen” is sufficient. It is unfortunate that people experiencing loss have to suck it up and deal with all of the insensitive comments people make, but, ultimately, I think people really do want to help us through this tough time. There really isn't much anyone can do, but sometimes acknowledging what one may be going through instead of avoidance speaks volume. If I have learned one thing through my loss, it is that I will be a better friend to those going through a similar situation. All we have is each other.
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