Tuesday, December 4, 2012

Knock Knock. It's grief.

October is such a blur.  Drowning in grief and only getting above water once in awhile to suck in the air doesn't leave much to reminisce to.  I was determined to get out of the water...or at the very least get into shallower ends of the pool.

It got to the point where I was desperate.  I needed joy in the worst way...so in November, I sought out distractions, and as fate would have it, I found them in droves.

I obsessively relished in the distractions of friends and family.  Movies.  Lunches.  Internet.  Exercise. Kids.  Holidays.  Special events.  I didn't want to talk about losing Ryan.  His passing began to feel more like a dream than a reality, and guiltily I embraced that.  I didn't want it to be real.  I missed his touch, his affection...his everything.

I needed to forget.

And to be honest, I really tried.

I didn't forget Ryan...Ryan is seriously unforgettable, but I tried not to dwell on his passing.  I tried to forget the hurt, and the loss.  I focused solely on the thought that he wanted me to be happy.  So I jumped into another section of the deep end and tried to find happiness there.  When people would ask how I was, I would give them the thumbs up.  When people tried to ask about how the boys were getting through, I would change the subject.  "They are doing really well, how's the new job?"  When the littles would go to therapy I would question if it was a good idea..."I" certainly didn't want to talk about it.  Was I making the right decision having them talk about it?  Shouldn't we be soldiering on?  Wasn't it best to leave the heartache behind us and normal our way through our days?  It hurt too much to remember.

I tried distancing myself from the pain.  And in a small way, I succeeded.

Unfortunately, I didn't see the tsunami wave of grief looming above my head.  I was too busy, remember?

As it turns out, you can't shut the door on grief.  Eventually, it just knocks it down.

And now here I am in December, the distractions left far behind.   And mourning the loss of those distractions is like adding salt to the wound.  I am back to square one.  The Christmas decorations, the rain, the quiet, the aloneness...

I'm over my head again and realize I can't fight the under current.  I need to let it take me downstream to my future...and I'm realizing that this grief is part of the process that will get me there.

I miss Ryan.

I'm angry he is gone.

It isn't fair.

We need him.

The loss of his unconditional love has left the facade of my wonderful life in ruins.  On the floor in front of me remains the broken shell of what once was...and that old life can't be put together again.  A giant piece is now missing. 

I miss being told every morning that I am loved.

I miss being hugged tight until I called uncle.

I miss my hand being held in the car.

I miss being kissed.

I'll stop there...

If it wasn't for the boys, I don't know if I would even try to keep my head above water.

Christmas shopping without Ryan?  Really?

Even though I feel a bit guilty for my November quest to numb myself...I am thankful that I was afforded a small break from all the pain.   I know I needed the respite from the storm, and I am completely thankful for my friends and family that provided such worthy distractions...

But now that the grief has returned in full force, I need to find a way to function and come to terms with where I am in my life.

That will be a process.  A process that will take a lot of faith and hope...which I am sure I have stashed in one of my pockets here somewhere...

Dang.  Did they get thrown in the wash?

I'm taking December one day at a time.

And if that doesn't work...one hour at a time.

In the mean time, does anyone have an inner tube I can borrow? 


  1. Love you...I wish I had words to bring comfort but human words at least most of them aren't what your broken heart needs. I am thinking of you and praying for you every, single, day.

  2. Oh Meri...I think its good that you have tried to numb yourself, and I think it is even better that you realize now it is time to feel again. Hour by hour, day by day. Whatever gets you through. I cant imagine being just 3 months in as a widow (I hate that word too) and already facing the holidays. Im so sorry for your lonely, grieving heart...I still have you and the boys in my prayers every-single-day!!! (((HUGS))

  3. Give yourself time, as much as you need. No guilt - none! And by letting yourself be sad, you'll give the boys the same opportunity.
    Prayers and hugs and love for all of you. Oh, and pockets for your tissues...

  4. I am happy to have been one of your distractions. Sending you an interweb intertube.

  5. I don't know what to say. I want to come and hug you and go shopping with you. I know it's not the same, but you ARE loved... By a shit load of people. Take your distractions when you need them and let the grief in when it knocks. Whatever YOU need to do. Do it! I love you, Meri.

  6. I know, I do...really. ((HUGS)) you will get through this amazing, talented, lovable, huggable, incredible you. one day at a time. you can do this. and as always you are never alone. double ((HUGS))

  7. I don't know what I can say . . . . so I'll just remind you of how much I love you.

  8. Or one moment at a time, "Dear Heavenly Father, please help me get through this next minute", you can ask for it 1,440 times a day and He will help you.

  9. Oh, how I wish I had the words or magical powers to make it all better for you. I love you, and my inner tube is your inner tube, if you want it. Sending love and hugs! ♥

  10. Meri, you and your boys are always in my prayers. There isn't a day that goes by that I don't take a moment, think about you, and send a prayer on it's way. From now on, I will wrap each prayer in an inner tube. Love you!

  11. Watching someone you love suffer, even someone you don't know, really is like putting them in a sailboat isn't it? Praying daily for your safe return to shore...

  12. Sending you tons of hugs and just as many prayers... For you and your boys!!

  13. Meri, The only life line I can throw is God. Let Him be your refuge. My heart just breaks for the grief that you are feeling and the only thing I can do is mourn with you. May God blanket you and the boys in His comfort and peace.

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  15. OH Meri, I cann't imagine what your going through I wish I had the words to help, minute by minute, hour by hour, day by day , you will find a way . Thinking of you
    hugz and blessings Rhianna

  16. Hang in there, Meri. We love you guys.

  17. Sorry Meri. I can't even begin to imagine what you're enduring. Wish I could be there to give you hugs in person. God bless.

  18. Meri- I do understand what you are feeling and going through. It's hard for me to believe that tomorrow, it will be two months since Brian died. I miss his everything about him. He wasn't just my husband, he was my best friend. Please know that you are in my prayers and you are not alone.


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