Grief Patterns

I have noticed, I guess, somewhat of a pattern in my grief. It seems like there are a few months out of the year where I really miss Spencer. During those months I really feel the loss and I miss him clear down to my core. It's not that I don't miss him daily, because I do, but these months he just consumes nearly every thought.

Year one it was off and on. At times I was numb, and at times I was completely exposed and vulnerable. It came in waves and was different at each moment. Year two, it really hit around December as I approached the first year mark of his death. Things got a little bit better, and then I got terribly sick and I had a rough time around March through May. It got better once I started feeling better. The rest of that second year wasn't terribly bad. I got back to 'normal' and he didn't consume my thoughts.

This year, for some reason, February has really kicked it off. I think a lot of it has to do with all the focus and time I put into writing an article about our love. (Hopefully it will be published soon and I can share with you all.) I delved into things that I haven't thought about for so long. I faced the reality of him being gone.

Then I struggled with the date that marked 26 months of him being gone, 2/11. I don't know exactly why this hit me so hard, but every time I wrote 2/11 down at work, thought about that date, or saw it on the calendar, all I could think about is "Oh, that's the day my husband died." For the most part, I have gotten well passed these monthly reminders (The 11th of the months). I hardly even think that it marks another month gone. But this month it consumed my thoughts. On the 10th every time I thought about it a lump would form in my throat and I just wanted to cry. I was pretty busy at work on the actual day so I didn't think about it all that much, but for the first 2 hours of the day it was tough.  Valentines day quickly approached and while I love the day, I hate what and who it makes me miss. It just added to how much I've been missing my husband.

And unfortunately it hasn't improved too much since then. I have been missing him constantly. Always thinking about him. Sometimes I sit here entranced in a memory of him, replaying it over, and over in my mind. I find myself wishing I could tell him something or wanting so badly to share a memory with him. Wishing that we could have went to all the places we wanted to go and that we could have done all the things that we wanted to do. Wishing I would have handled a situation a little differently or said something more to him.

I just miss him, so much. I miss what we had and what we will never get to have together. I wish there were adequate words to express how much it hurts sometimes. It doesn't often make me cry anymore, but there have been a couple times where I've been brought to tears. I'm not used to that. I don't like feeling so vulnerable. I don't like feeling so alone.

Just last night I was scrolling through my facebook and came across a post in a grief group I am part of on there (which I probably should just leave). Someone posted something saying, "I can't believe that he's gone. Forever." It stopped me in my tracks. Of course I know that Spencer is gone. Dead. But when I think of the finality of it like that, it is literally too much to bare. Maybe that's how I get through. I look at the life I have ahead of me. I think of all the amazing things that I can do with it and what all I can become because of it. I see the potential in my future because I know that I cannot change my past. I don't dwell and sit and think that wow... This is forever. I am never going to get to see my husband again in this life. I will never get to hold his hand again, lay beside him, hear him laugh, watch him breathe. I know this... but when I think of it in that way, it hurts and reduces me to tears. I wish I hadn't have seen that post. But I can't now undo what I have seen. I'm just going to try my best and not think of it in that way.

Sometimes it seems wrong, or that I am living in some kind of made up world that I don't think of the finality of his death. The forever part of things. It's like I'm just pushing aside the reality. But how else am I supposed to keep living my life if I don't do just that? I would be forever crippled by the pain of his loss if I stopped to think of that. I guess it's just whatever keeps me going. It's not that I'm ignoring the "Forever" part of things... it's just that I choose not to think about it.

There is some comfort, a lot actually, that I know there is something out there after death. I can't call myself very religious or strong in my faith right now. I don't go to church, don't read my scriptures, don't pray. I won't get into that muddy mess. But it doesn't stop me from my core belief that there is something more after we die. Will I get to see Spencer again when I die? I don't know. I can only hope that I will be reunited with him again. I can only trust and believe that I will. And sometimes that's what keeps me going.

But forever on this Earth is such a long time without him.

I miss my husband. And lately, it's almost been too much to bare.

My experience

Last weekend I attended a memorial service for a wonderful woman. A woman that I am so happy to have been able to call a friend. It was such an emotional day, but if one could look past the sadness, you could see a room overflowing with love.

Saturday was a very difficult day for me as I struggled to sort through the hundreds of emotions that I was feeling all at once. We [my mom, sister, and myself] arrived a little bit late because, for some reason, my GPS led us about 20 miles astray. We were in a completely different city and in a small community. We were lost and extremely frustrated and that started a flood of emotions. I just knew we were going to miss the entire memorial and I could barely stand myself I was so upset. But thankfully we arrived in Longmont and found the church about half way through the service. I'm so grateful for that.

I walked in to her service and I don't think there was a dry eye in the church. As we were ushered to our seats, we were listening to Molly's Eulogy. He had just begun to talk about Starbright World and shortly after sitting down they mentioned Molly's beloved friendship with Spencer. My emotions got the best of me very suddenly, more suddenly than I expected, and I was doubled over in inconsolable sobs and anguish at the loss of both my soul mate and good friend. I cannot ever remember crying as hard as I did when their friendship was mentioned. It hurt me so deeply words cannot even describe. Molly and Spencer were are so very special to me and thinking about their friendship both warms my heart and slices through it deeply at the very same time. I wish that I could talk to them both, together, about the times they shared together. In that moment I suddenly missed them more than I ever knew was possible.

I was a complete mess through the rest of the service. It was really hard for me to sit there and listen to what was being said. The love shared between Molly and her husband, Corey, really got to me. He was so right when he said most people search a lifetime to find the love that Corey and Molly shared. Spencer and I were told that countless times, and I still am to this day. Knowing that they found that love, together, is beautiful and they are so lucky they were able to share it. While they were talking about the relationship that they had, I nearly left the sanctuary. I was so overcome with grief and heartache it took everything that I could possible give to not sob so loudly. It was the first time since I lost Spencer that I really felt the need to let everything out. That I ACTUALLY had the ability to let it out, as every time before that I had tried numbness would set it. And it was the need not only to let out pent up emotions about Molls, but also about Spencer.

The emotions that were building up in my heart were was literally more than I could process. Tears sprung out from the corners of my eyes. My bottom lip and jaw trembled uncontrollably. Sobs that I was desperately trying to hold back kept escaping from my throat. My hands, legs, and really just my whole body was shaking. I couldn't open my eyes as they were stained with tears. I could hardly sit upright. Using my muscles and holding myself up was almost more than I could manage in that moment. I felt like I was going to explode. I was completely overwhelmed. I missed my husband more than ever in that moment, and I was so, so sad that my friend is no longer here.

As people smiled at me I was physically unable to smile back. I just wanted someone to take me in their arms and cry with me but at the very same time I wanted to run off and be by myself. The presence of people, whether I knew them or not, was almost too much. I was so lost and there was no understanding to be had.

I am just stunned that the emotions I experienced were so intense. I never expected them to be. That whole day I felt completely shattered, and to be honest with you, I still do. I feel like I have lost so much and it's unbearable. I don't really know how to keep on going. I know a lot of this, a lot of this, relates back to Spence. I feel like perhaps there are some feelings that I have not been able to identify or express that are lingering from Spencer's death. Maybe since things have been able to soak in from his death and the fact that it's been about a year since I've lost anyone close to me, I've had time to process things and it's given me the ability to express whatever it is that is festering in my poor, broken heart. Whatever it is, I was pretty blind sighted with the way that I felt last Saturday.

It was also so strange to me that I almost felt worse on Saturday then I did when I lost Spencer. I don't remember feeling any of those emotions until Saturday. I think part of it is because of the fact I was able to accept Spencer's decline and death and I gave him the final say as to when it was ok to let go; whereas I was not with Molly before she passed away and I wasn't able to accept anything that was happening. The loss of a friend is so, so different than the loss of a spouse. I didn't really expect it to be. I thought losing Spencer was the ultimate pain, if that makes sense. As I said, I know that Spencer's death ties into Molly's quite a bit making it a lot harder.

I don't know... last weekend was just hard. Very hard. And I'm glad that I got through it and that day is now in the past. I can't help but think about Corey, Melissa, and Lauren every single day. They are just starting the journey of missing and longing for their wife, daughter, and very best friend and I know they are feeling her loss so much more than I am.

The hand of death

*I say the word "we" in this a lot because I was talking to a dear friend of mine today and I think I am speaking for all of us who have lost a lot of the same influential people in a short amount of time*

When you lose your husband you kinda think and hope that the worse is over. You've lost the one you love and treasure the very most. The one that you choose to spend the rest of your life with, so the worse must be over, right?

Wrong.

It has been proven to me time after time again that that is just not true. The hand of death doesn't stop just because you've been broken once before.

I've never lost a good friend until now, and the emotions and feelings I have been having are much different and more difficult to accept and express. I am much more seasoned in the area of loss than a 22 year old should ever be. I've experienced more loss in the last 2 years than I ever thought was possible. I feel kind of like an expert in the subject.

Through all the people I have lost, I have found that I unknowingly and unintentionally put up a front. I appear to be so much stronger than I really am. I look at the positives, I remain optimistic, I remain confident that I will see them once again. Around people I have the ability to be my normal bubbly self. I walk around telling myself things are okay, that I have to much to be thankful for and that I will be okay. I do my best to not express any sadness what-so-ever. I would almost convince myself that everything was okay even though my whole world was shattering around me.  I realized several months ago that the only change that happens when my strong front is up, is that with each person I lose, the more light I lose, the duller my eyes get, the weaker my smile gets. Only those close to me recognize these signs of hurt and the signs that I am breaking down. Through all the losses I have become a lot more numb to loss. I experience sadness, but none as deep as what I did when my Spencer passed away. When I'm by myself and I am actually able to put my strong front down, the numbness sets in and I'm unable to cry, get angry, be sad.

But through this loss of my dear friend, most of the above has went out the window. That strong front is getting so much weaker and I am unable to convince myself that everything is okay. I can't look at the positive, I can't be optimistic, and I certainly am not longer certain that I will see the ones I love again. When I'm in public and trying to keep it together, on the inside I am crying out in pain, wishing anyone who saw me would understand the inner turmoil I'm going through.

I'm not certain that this will make sense to you, but half of me feels numb while half of me is feeling every single thing that I could possibly feel. Losing Molly has kind of pushed me over the edge. The part of me that feels numb, I think is in part disbelief that this happened. We all knew it was coming. I knew for several days and in all those days I have been incredibly angry. But the part that is feeling every single thing that I could feel.... well it is just too big to even begin to sort through the emotions and piece them together. It's too big to be able to express, in writing or in words.

With every loss that we experience, the more we continue to be broken down; The more tired we become; The more we tend to bottle it in, whether we mean to or not, because it all added together becomes way too much to process; The more we become afraid to express the hurt that we feel because we are terrified that the hurt will never stop, that the tears won't stop when they start; The more afraid we are to start the process because we know how much it hurt from the previous loss and we know it will be even worse this time.

With every loss that happens, the more vulnerable we become.


And because I am vulnerable? I am feeling completely 100% broken and shattered. More-so thank any other time. There is too much going on in my mind and in my heart and I almost feel like I can't be in my own skin right now. Because I am vulnerable I am experiencing emotions from my past that I have dealt with and moved on from and those chronic emotions that are now only temporary, only coming and going every once in awhile. Emotions come flooding back that I forgot were even possible.

I'm naturally really missing Spencer all over again. I want him here for comfort. My emotions for my husband are very high right now. Molly and Spencer were best friends and shared a lot of memories together. It really hurts me that I feel like I've lost another part of Spencer. I have lost memories of Spencer. A connection to Spencer that I no longer have. I am so thankful that I spent time with Molls last summer and heard some of her memories of my husband. I will cherish them even more now that she's gone.

I am so, so heartbroken because of the empathy I have for Molly's new husband. I'm so sad for her family. I'm now understanding some of the feelings Spencer's friends went through when he passed away. The helplessness. The anger. The hurt. It's all different when you lose a friend compared to when you lose a spouse. I didn't expect it to be.

We continue to add to the number of people that we need to grieve. It makes it so hard to even start the process because we know how much more time it is going to add onto the process as a whole. I know that Molly's loss is going to tack on a significant amount of time to my grieving. For me, I am finally starting to get to a good spot in my healing journey with the loss of Spencer. But with that, I am noticing the loss of my mother-in-law more, my grandma more, and my grandpa a little bit more. I am just now starting to grieve their loss. It's been 18 months since I lost my husband. I'm just NOW getting to that point. I still have 3 other people to grieve.... and now 4. It seems like a never ending process. This loss has really thrown me for a loop. Every loss I experience the more complicated my grieving process becomes.  Each and every time things get harder.

For some reason losing Molly has me questioning every single thing I once believed -- and that's really hard for me to swallow. Before I was very firm in my belief that I was going to see Spencer again. We were going to live eternity together. I guess what other choice did I have but to believe that? I needed that comfort and that reassurance. That through the heartache and pain I was experiencing there would be a reward in the end. There have been several times where I have briefly questioned my beliefs... My belief in the afterlife and even my belief in a higher power. But I was always able to recover and dismiss those thoughts very quickly. It hurt to much to think that I'll never see my husband again. But with Molly being gone I feel like I have lost all of my faith. How can this happen AGAIN. Why does this happen so often. I am so ANGRY that this has happened. I am torn between whether to believe Spencer and Molly are together, or whether to dismiss that idea and wonder if we will all be reunited again. It's a very, very hard thing to think about. Right now I'm just going with it because I don't have the strength to try and correct it and work through it.

People say to give it time. Time will heal you. With time things will get better, easier. But as a good friend put it today, "That's the one thing I feel like we don't have. [Time] is what we keep losing to." I can't express that any better then she did. When I have now lost 6 very close people whom I love very much in less than 2 years.... I feel like I am rushing against the clock. Our concept of time has completely changed and it's very hard to alter it back to the way it once was.

And with so many losses in such a short amount of time.... it makes one question who is going to be next and when is it going to happen. I mean how much time do we really have with one another? It's an awful thing to think, and a thought that I hate, but it's too hard to get it out of my mind whether I want to or not. I think of our close knit group, all of us living with chronic illnesses. We're more susceptible to death (I guess you could say) and it's scary to think about who might be next. You think that it's finally done now, at least for awhile -- but then life is cruel and steals another one away. I know for a fact that thought gets a little bit better the further out from a loss that you get, but it's a hard thought to live with.

I don't know how to end this. I have no words of advice for my friends experiencing her loss. I have no words of encouragement or hope. I am completely broken and I'm struggling to hold it all together. I am glad I have a close knit group of friends who understand most everything expressed above. Talking out things with one of them was extremely helpful for me to sort through a couple of my thoughts.

If I know anything, I know this -- I feel an overwhelming need to tell those I care about and love just how much they mean to me. It's so important to let them know, and often. I hope to be able to make more of an effort to do just that.

He's still alive through pics, videos, and moments that take our breath away

Some days I miss this guy so deeply words can't quite adequately express it. So deeply it just weighs me down. Of course I miss him on a daily basis, but it's something I've learned to live with. It's just part of my every day life. It isn't very often that I miss him this much, but sometimes it just happens, and I know it will continue to happen. I'm finally okay with this.

Today overall hasn't been too bad, but I've had some moments that pulled at my heart strings. I've thought of memories of Spencer and I, and I've had some moments of complete disbelief that he's gone. That he's really, truly gone. Those feelings of disbelief, though very rare, are so powerful! They come about as quickly as they go.

On the 1st anniversary of Spencer's death my best friends gave me a small angel wings charm that fits in your pocket or onto a key chain.

It meant a great deal to me and for the longest time I kept it in my jeans pocket. It went through several wash and dry cycles and it wasn't until I got pulled to the side in airport security, twice, that I decided I should take it out and find another place for it. I had honestly forgotten about it in the last several months until today. 

I decided to do a small load of laundry and when I pulled out a few clothes from the dryer I paused and started to get a huge smile on my face when I found this charm sitting perfectly on the lip of the dryer, in plain sight so I couldn't miss it. I just stood there looking at it for awhile, clueless to how it got there. It briefly took my breath away. I did wash my purse and I honestly don't remember putting it in there, and I also checked the pockets of it before I washed it, but that's the only place I can think of that it came from!

Now I've really never been one to trust in or believe in 'signs' from my loved ones who have passed on. I always just think of it as a coincidence. I don't necessarily know or think it was sign from Spence today, but regardless it sure did make me smile and realize that he's still looking down on me... especially since I was having a pretty frustrating day with my physical capabilities. 

While the above situation made me smile and put me in a better mood, tonight I certainly miss him on a pretty deep level. No tears being shed, I just miss him. As I was looking through my e-mails tonight, I ran across an e-mail from my sister that I completely forgot that she sent me. While I was in Kansas she was looking through her phone and found a video that she took of Spencer Christmas of 2010 -- his last Christmas with us. It's a fairly short video, but it's of Spencer being, well, Spencer -- silly, fun, and quirky. Videos always get to me because they are the most real evidence I have that remind me that my memories weren't just a dream. Videos make his existence real. Tangible. The movements. His voice. 

So it's no surprise that they capture an emotion within me that's just too deep for words.

This is your typical Spencer: I haven't been able to make out some of what was said since my roommates are sleeping and I'm not up to watching it over and over again because I'm certain I might cry, but even if I don't know what's being said I love it. 

The first time I watched this I was really focused on what was being said. But then I watched it a second time. I started giggling a little bit half way through, and then at the end I experienced a huge burst of some kind of emotion that I honestly can't describe. I ended up laughing, a deep belly laugh, but at the same time I had a knot in my stomach, the urge to burst into uncontrollable tears. I quickly stopped before that happened. 

I love watching videos of him. If you have any -- could you please, please share them with me? =)

I love you my SweetPea and miss you every day!!!!