When the Numbness Wears Off...

You always hear about how difficult it is adjusting to life as a widow. What people don't really talk about (and maybe it's because everyone handles things differently), is that you go through a period of time where the numbness masks the real pain. From the time of Jake's passing to his funeral, my days were consumed with making plans and making sure my kids were well taken care of. After that, I was trying to accept the fact that he was gone, which was difficult because he spent nearly 3 months in the hospital, with 2 of those months existing in a state of altered consciousness in varying degrees. I haven't talked to him in what feels like forever, even though he's only been gone for just over 2 weeks. Now, I know he's gone, and the numbness has worn off. I feel extreme pain.

Even through the numbness, I cried for my loss. I knew I missed him, and I knew I wanted to smell him and talk to him and hug him again. But now that life is moving on and the expressed concern from others has worn off, I'm realizing just how much I'm affected by his death. I still experience 4 of the 5 stages of grief, sometimes several times in a day. I get so angry that he left me here picking up the pieces. I still sometimes am in denial over the fact that he's gone. Then there are the times I accept it and feel like I can "move on" (whatever that means). And then there are days like today where I am so sad and depressed by his absence that I end up not being very productive in my daily activities. I no longer am in a bargaining stage; I realize there's nothing to bargain about or with at this point. I did, however, dwell there during the last couple of months of his life, particularly during the final week.

Now that the numbness has worn off, I'm starting to realize what people mean about the sadness and tears creeping in at the most random moments. And I'm not talking about the little tear-out-of-the-corner-of-my-eye type cries, I'm talking full on sobbing-and-unable-to-breathe type cries. It's exhausting. I am realizing that when people are depressed and just want to sleep, sometimes it's because the emotion itself is just draining, and doesn't necessarily have anything to do with wanting to completely withdraw from life. I know I don't necessarily want to withdraw. Of course, there's a certain aspect of self-preservation that drives me to be a little bit reserved, but other than that, I want to be involved in my life. I know Jake would be disappointed if I didn't make that happen.

As the days go on, the harder it gets, at least for now. I pray every night for comfort and peace, but that peace is momentary. It requires a constant prayer and seeking for some sort of solace. It doesn't just come. That, in and of itself, is time consuming. And it definitely doesn't help with the exhaustion of everything else. So if I don't answer calls or texts, or just don't feel like going out, it's because I'm soooo beyond tired that I'm really just trying to recover. I know it's a slow process, but it will come.

On a different note, I've found some resources to help me toward my goal of home ownership. I'm hoping this will happen relatively soon as my children deserve stability and a sense of normalcy. I'm very excited about this, and between that and my religious goals (and of course my children), I should have something to live for and work toward for a while. I've always known goals were important, but now that I recognize how easy it would be to accept an early death, I know I have purpose here because of those goals. It's still lonely, but I also know that Jake is cheering me on and helping me where I can. I hope to make him proud of the life I'm creating for myself and the kids, and look forward to seeing him again knowing that I did everything I could to make this life the best it can be for me.