Hitting Rock Bottom & Choosing to Get Back Up: August 2014

13 long, exhausting, heart-wrenching weeks have come and gone. People say that a part of you dies when you lose a spouse. I disagree. The term “die” or “death” is all too permanent for me, not to mention morbid; and with a career in healthcare, has always represented, in my eyes, complete end of life on Earth and the beginning of eternal life in the most beautiful place. You don’t die. You are forever changed, but you don’t die. You are actually forced to LIVE this life on Earth everyday, just without your soul mate, the one who was supposed to be by your side forever.

I didn’t realize how much shock I was in until it started to wear off… Don’t get me wrong, the shock is still there, it’s just not as protective as it was in those first few weeks. After hearing of other widow’s experiences, I’ve determined that grieving the loss of your spouse is pure hell. Moreover, unless you have experienced widowhood yourself, you have no idea what it is like and even then- it is still different. I once read somewhere that “grief is as individualized as a fingerprint.”

Although I was in complete shock immediately following the news of my husband’s tragic death, there are a few things that stand out in my memory. It took me a long time (12ish weeks) to not feel guilty about my first reaction that horrid night, which consisted of hugging my mother-in-law in our bedroom while she cried, followed by walking out into our kitchen and asking my sister-in-law if I should make a pot of coffee or open a bottle of wine. I didn’t cry right away. Once the tears started, though, they didn’t stop {and still haven’t stopped- I cry everyday, sometimes several times a day, over my loss}. That first week- sleep was minimal, at best. I remember napping during the daytime while curled up in my husband’s beloved La-Z-Boy as our house swarmed with company. I didn’t want to be alone in a quiet bedroom. I also vividly remember finding out I was pregnant on what would have been DJ’s 31^st birthday. To this day, I still don’t know how I managed to get through that week. How was I able to put on makeup and a dress on for my husband’s funeral?!

The day (May 24^th) DJ’s 802 (spray plane) went back to Timber Lake was almost harder than his funeral {See aforementioned thoughts on shock} along with June 4^th. There is nothing significant about June 4^th other than I consider that my lowest of low days. I sobbed all day and the physical pain was nearly unbearable. My grief overwhelmed me. Thankfully, to this day, that is still my toughest day post-loss on record. As a widow, you experience many bad days, a few ok days, and some days, it’s just “one of those days.” Following the loss of a spouse, you are on an emotional roller coaster that doesn’t stop- you can’t get off and ‘exit to your left’. You can’t hold up your hand to suggest ‘please stop I’m going to throw up’ and you can’t even close your eyes, hold on tight, and find peace in knowing it will all be over in 2 minutes.

Another day that will haunt me forever was the day I got together with Nicole, Kyrstin, and Natalie to sort through all of our hubby’s personal belongings that were on board the airplane. I was mentally prepared for seeing the worst and it was worse than the worst. I will never forget laying eyes on his damaged headset, the one DJ always wore when flying, immediately when I walked into that musty, damp room. A flood of emotions and memories nearly brought me to my knees. Nobody should’ve had to see what we saw that day.

When you are faced with tragedy, life comes to a screeching halt. Your hopes & dreams shatter into a million little pieces and you question everything. And I mean EVERYTHING. Was I not meant to be a wife? Maybe I wasn’t cut out to be a crop duster’s wife? Am I not worthy of motherhood? Why don’t I get the joy of having my own family as we planned? How about small town living? What about my career choice? The list goes on and on… I wasn’t prepared for decision-making without him and it has ~~nearly~~ paralyzed me. Most days I can’t even decide if I want just peanut butter or PB&J! However, I did make a spontaneous decision to get a tattoo on the inside of my left ankle {Welcome to widowhood, people-where you can’t decide what color of underwear to wear, but you can make a decision on a whim to put something permanent on your body}.

As I begin to pick up these million little pieces, I continue to remain thankful for your prayers of support. Although I’m not ready to put the pieces of my puzzle back together, I am holding them near and dear to my heart and keeping the faith that someday, that puzzle will be near complete again, always with two pieces missing.

“When you are ready to live again-life will be there waiting with open arms.”

--1fw {One Fit Widow}

XO-
Megan