The top of Bald Bluff

In April of 2009, Tom hiked up to the top of Bald Bluff.  It was after his surgery, after they had removed his right upper lobe.  It was a "good day."  He was pleased with what he could do. 

I took the same hike on Sunday, now so many years later, to the top of Bald Bluff.  As I took in the view, stood where Tom stood, I thought about what he might have felt on that particular day.  I have pictures because he brought his tripod along; he looked happy. 

Some days, only bad memories exist for me.  If you have taken care of someone who has a long protracted illness, there are many, many days that are not good and they leave an indelible imprint on you, they waft  through your mind, pictures that haunt and torment, memories of  pain and suffering that you watched play out, helpless to do anything. BUT,  then there are those days where you get to take a breath, where you climb to the top of Bald Bluff, where you have a good day. 

I think grief is the same thing.  Grief feels like an illness.... a long protracted illness and you wonder if you will have a good day, if you will be happy, if there will be relief or only more suffering.  Can you heal from your grief?  Will you recover?  I know this; Sunday I hiked up to the top of Bald Bluff and I was happy, it was a "good day." 

Grief of the heart

For my entire adult life, from the time I was 18 years old until I was 57, I was in a relationship with a man I would later marry.  We would go on to have 4 children and 2 grandchildren.  On November 5^th, 2015 he died.  And while we had forever been known as “Tom and Holly,” I have had to learn how to be “Just Holly” (thus the name of the blog).  And no, I don’t like it.

My goal for this blog is to not just to write about being a widow and the adjustments that I have had to make, not to just write about the roller coaster that becomes your life overnight, but to write about the good times too.  Yes, I said good times. 

If you are a recent widow (less than 6 months) you cannot possibly imagine that there would be any good times in your life left.  I can assure that I felt exactly the same way.  From my journal, this entry is dated June 21, 2016:

“Father’s day, first wedding without Tom, my birthday, fourth of July ~ all of the ‘firsts’ that tear at my being, my heart, my soul.  Missing Tom is what I do now, who I am.  I feel lost, distraught, robbed, alone, not at all like myself.  I keep trying to feel like ‘myself’ again, but I do not think I ever will.  There was too much of me that was ‘Tom and Holly.’

Every grief reaction is different, but seven months into the work of grief I still felt so broken, I could not imagine anything would ever get better.  And yet, as time has marched inexorably onward (as time is wont to do), I have somehow come to grips with the fact that while my life may not be what I want, it’s not too bad!  I write that statement with some hesitation because, if you are like me, to have a good time without your spouse feels like a betrayal.  It is not; it is what they would wish us to do (unless they were selfish human beings who only thought of themselves, which would be all the more reason to enjoy your life).  Not every day is a good day, but not every day is a bad day as it was when I was overwhelmed with grief.  I determined when my husband died that I would keep my wedding ring on for the first year and I would concentrate on the hard work of grief, which I did.  While I cannot say that my grief work is done, I most certainly think that it is not, I can say that I have made progress.  Unfortunately, you cannot walk around this or avoid it; you have to face it head on and march through it.  Will you collapse from the sheer weight of it?  Yes.  Will you get up?  Yes. 

I am now about 14 months into learning how to live without Tom.  My plan is to share this journey with you, fellow traveler in this world, and my hope is that you will have hope.