A heart that still hurts
On March 7 of 2017, I lost my husband of 32 years even though we knew each other longer. A long haul truck driver, he was found deceased in his truck at a truck stop in Indiana. I am sitting here, looking at the approach of the third anniversary of his passing. I wonder, how could it have been three years, when at times, it seems like just yesterday I got the call.
There are times, when I know that I have grown as a person, as a mother, as a friend. Then there are times, when I simply want to close all the doors, turn out the lights and hide. Just me and my pain. The emotions run the full gambit from feeling fine, to feeling the emotional mess. I have family and I have friends that I know are here for me, but I have those moments when I feel absolutely abandoned. It is those moments, when I know to stay away from social media as my pain bleeds out all over the page in the form of the written word. I feel the need to share that pain, feeling that if I don't share then a part of me will not be able to tolerate the build up in my heart. Part of me wants to shake the other saying hush, no one wants to hear all that. Some do, some don't. Some offer words of encouragement, some simply scroll on by. I am thankful that it is rare for trolls to find my posts and attack as that would do nothing more than feed the sadness. Thankfully, the feelings of great sadness are becoming more rare.
Most days, I can look at myself in the mirror and see someone who has been forced to grow. One who had leaned too much on someone that was no longer around. I can see the person who has learned how to handle situations never faced before. I can see the person who has grown stronger and developed a greater feeling of self assurance. I see the face of the person ready to take on the world and what ever it wants to throw at her. I see the person, who has already dealt with much and who knows that more is to come.
My new normal started from the phone call with that accidental telling. My world rocked and when it finally rights itself, will never be the same way, everything shifted that day. The fact that he was so far away from home made it more difficult. The fact of having to deal with medical examiners and coroners and red tape and all that comes with that had me a near basket case. Planning his celebration of life, seeing him in that casket, saying good-bye. It was all only the beginning.
In the beginning, there was always someone dropping by to check on me. There was notes and phone calls and people on social media. At times, it could be overwhelming, but always welcomed. Then, it all but stopped. Time has passed, almost three years, one should be better, one should be healed, one should have accepted that new normal and moved onward.
All the while, my heart struggles to heal and struggles to find that balance.
As a Christian, I know there is peace to be found in prayer, in faith, in God's Word. Every night I pray, just let me cling to the hem of His garment, that I may know His peace. My remaining pain, is not because God does not care, does not hear my prayers, does not wish to draw me near. My remaining pain is partly due to not having healed and partly due simply to human weakness. I have found peace in my faith, and I know that it grows with every prayer. I know though, that I many never fully stop hurting, because we were not /are not promised an easy life. There will always be some form of struggle or storm.
So I struggle and I succeed. I battle the inner demons of loneliness and find peace in prayer. I struggle to find a balance and as I walk this road, I get better. I stumble less often and I feel a heart that still hurts, heal just a little more.
There are times, when I know that I have grown as a person, as a mother, as a friend. Then there are times, when I simply want to close all the doors, turn out the lights and hide. Just me and my pain. The emotions run the full gambit from feeling fine, to feeling the emotional mess. I have family and I have friends that I know are here for me, but I have those moments when I feel absolutely abandoned. It is those moments, when I know to stay away from social media as my pain bleeds out all over the page in the form of the written word. I feel the need to share that pain, feeling that if I don't share then a part of me will not be able to tolerate the build up in my heart. Part of me wants to shake the other saying hush, no one wants to hear all that. Some do, some don't. Some offer words of encouragement, some simply scroll on by. I am thankful that it is rare for trolls to find my posts and attack as that would do nothing more than feed the sadness. Thankfully, the feelings of great sadness are becoming more rare.
Most days, I can look at myself in the mirror and see someone who has been forced to grow. One who had leaned too much on someone that was no longer around. I can see the person who has learned how to handle situations never faced before. I can see the person who has grown stronger and developed a greater feeling of self assurance. I see the face of the person ready to take on the world and what ever it wants to throw at her. I see the person, who has already dealt with much and who knows that more is to come.
My new normal started from the phone call with that accidental telling. My world rocked and when it finally rights itself, will never be the same way, everything shifted that day. The fact that he was so far away from home made it more difficult. The fact of having to deal with medical examiners and coroners and red tape and all that comes with that had me a near basket case. Planning his celebration of life, seeing him in that casket, saying good-bye. It was all only the beginning.
In the beginning, there was always someone dropping by to check on me. There was notes and phone calls and people on social media. At times, it could be overwhelming, but always welcomed. Then, it all but stopped. Time has passed, almost three years, one should be better, one should be healed, one should have accepted that new normal and moved onward.
All the while, my heart struggles to heal and struggles to find that balance.
As a Christian, I know there is peace to be found in prayer, in faith, in God's Word. Every night I pray, just let me cling to the hem of His garment, that I may know His peace. My remaining pain, is not because God does not care, does not hear my prayers, does not wish to draw me near. My remaining pain is partly due to not having healed and partly due simply to human weakness. I have found peace in my faith, and I know that it grows with every prayer. I know though, that I many never fully stop hurting, because we were not /are not promised an easy life. There will always be some form of struggle or storm.
So I struggle and I succeed. I battle the inner demons of loneliness and find peace in prayer. I struggle to find a balance and as I walk this road, I get better. I stumble less often and I feel a heart that still hurts, heal just a little more.
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