Myth: We move on after the loss of a loved one.
Truth: We move forward. Moving on implies that the person that passed away is to be forgotten, left in the past, and has no bearing or influence on your life after his or her death. It is almost as if that person never mattered in your life. However, it is quite the contrary.
One of my fears, because of this myth, is that people may think that when I start date other men, that I should have moved on and no longer can grieve for Scott. However, having been through loss before, grief is a life-long journey, especially when it is someone you cared for deeply. The loss, at first, is intense and raw. Your world, shattered in those last few breaths, is irrevocably changed. Those first few steps in moving forward are nearly impossible to take. Gradually, with each passing day, your feet become lighter and the steps you take much easier to bear. The dark cloud looming overhead begins to dissipate and blue skies provide a ray of hope, a chance to see the good and beauty in life. Every once in a while a storm rages in. With each passing storm, we become more skilled, adept, and hardened to handle each new challenge that comes our way. Each person in their grief journey moves at a pace unique to his or her own experiences and personality. For some, the storms seem never ending. A torrent of rain, lightning, hail, even tornados, wreak havoc on their lives. They barely get by and often need support and help from others. For others, they breeze through it with seemingly little to no effort. Don’t let this fool you, though. While they handle grief much better than others, the pain is still there.
For me, I still feel the sting of pain from losing Scott. We had nearly 11 years together. Out of our relationship, came four wonderful children. I grew into the adult I’ve become with him by my side. The experiences, both good and bad, that we had together were unique to us and our relationship. Down to every argument, every gift of affection, and every silly moment, what we had was special. It is something I will never forget and something I will be grateful for having in my life. In his last year, I learned what kind of person I really am. In being a caregiver, I learned that my capacity to love and care for someone is immeasurable. I learned that I am, in fact, a very strong person in even the toughest of times. But I also learned that I am not meant to live this life with no one at my side. Scott saw this as I cried in his arms one day. He fully expected me to find someone. He genuinely wanted me to. He felt so awful and ashamed that he couldn’t live out a longer life to be there for me and the kids. Especially me. I think out of everyone he was leaving behind, he worried about me the most. He knew that I am a person who thrives on companionship, partnership, and love. He knew that I was never and will never be someone who can live her life out alone. And he once told me that he hoped I could find someone and anyone who would love me and his children would have his respect and blessing. It was a conversation no couple should ever have to go through, but we did. We had to.
While it may seem like not much time has since passed, it may as well have been a lifetime ago for me. My grieving heart, I feel, moves at a different pace than most. I was able to see this firsthand during group therapy. As I comforted one of my fellow grieving friends, I kept asking myself, “Why am I not like this?” “Should I be like this?” “Am I supposed to be a wreck, unable to move forward?” I watched the others in my group and realized that we all grieved differently. Some were more intense, depressed. Others quieter and introspective. Then there was me, finding purpose in comforting others, giving more of myself to others. I realized that while I do grieve, I also am moving forward. I’ve been making many positive changes in my life. Working out, doing races, karate with the kids, climbing a 14er, and so on. One of these changes include meeting other people and, yes, going out on dates. Is it too soon? Maybe. But maybe not. Do I dishonor my late husband by doing this? I’ve asked myself this many times and I was unsure at first, but I’ve concluded that my answer is this: no, I do not. I’d also like to argue that I am honoring him by doing this as well. He wanted this for me. He wanted me to be happy. He did not want me going through life alone. Furthermore, I know that if I allow myself to fall into a routine, I may have a hard time breaking that routine in the future to make room for socializing and dating. I would eventually be too comfortable in my ways.
Many people often say when you find the love of your life, your soul mate, that he or she completes you. I’d like to say that doesn’t describe what Scott meant to me, though. To say that he completed me would imply that I was not whole to begin with. Rather, I think he complemented me, in the respect that we were good for each other and made each other better. Semantics, I know. Where I was weak, he was strong. Where he was weak, I was strong. To me, that’s what made us work. When I lost Scott, I lost someone that brought the best out in me and even sometimes my worst. He was the one person I could truly be just me, genuinely me. All the masks were off when I was around him. He knew my dark side. He knew my crazy side. It is my hope that perhaps, one day, I can find someone who would do the same, but in his own unique way. It is my hope that I can love someone and be loved in return. I know that it won’t be the same and quite honestly, I wouldn’t want it to. But, what I do know is that I am ready to put myself out there, risk possible heartache once again, with hopes that someone would be willing to hold my fragile heart with care and love and understanding. Someone who would understand that he would share a part of my heart with Scott. Someone who isn’t there to fix me, because I am not broken, but rather to stand by my side and support me while I venture through this grief journey, knowing that I may have to pick up the pieces of my broken heart from time to time.
