How long shall I grieve?

On Saturday I was traveling home from Exeter with the kids. Elijah turned to me and said, “Dad, I’m on Easter ‘vacation.’ It’s not a real vacation if I have to go to church!!” I chuckled at the implication of his statement. However it invited a prime opportunity to explain the real meaning of Easter and how it has nothing to do with Easter bunnies, eggs or any of the other commercialization and garbage that surrounds this holiday. Easter is about the resurrection of Jesus. Because Jesus died and was resurrected, each of us has the opportunity to see our loved ones who’ve pass away, people like our mother. Elijah could see where this conversation was going and he wanted no part of it. He put up his hand as if to silence me. He knew he wasn’t going to get out of going to church on Sunday, so to him the conversation was over.

The car fell silent for a few moments. The girls were just in a daze watching the cars drift by. Elijah had put his head down to take a nap. He was only resting for a few minutes when he suddenly jerked awake. He started sobbing uncontrollably. I asked him what the matter was. He took a deep breath and said, “It’s okay dad. I was just having a flashback.” Interesting to note that I’ve never heard him use the word ‘flashback’ before. Anyhow, I encouraged him to explain what the flashback was. He said he could so clearly remember his last conversation with his mom. Then me coming to pick him up from school to tell him that his mom was dead. Then the memory of the funeral; standing next to Rebecca’s coffin and seeing her dead. He remembers the note he placed inside her casket. He was seeing me close Rebecca’s coffin. Then having our friends carry her body away, taking her to the chapel and then to the hearse. At the cemetery he remembered watching her body being lowered into the ground.

My baby boy just cried and cried. There were so many things I wanted to say but I could do nothing but hold him. What else does one do in that moment? I mean all the logic and reasoning is thrown out the window in those very vulnerable moments. As many of you know, prior to Rebecca passing I had never lost anyone close to me. All of this grieving is so new to me. How do I grieve? How long do I grieve? Are these thoughts normal (most of the time for being widowed, they are)?

It’s been 18 months now since my sweetheart was taken from this earthly life. The sense of complete loss is sometimes too overwhelming. I think when I was early widowed I kind of had a timeline of how long I would grieve. I thought for sure that once I hit the year mark my grief would have tapered off and my heart would somehow be healed. Well, I’ve learned that there likely won’t be a complete healing of my heart in reference to Rebecca, at least not in this life. For now I just learn to manage my pain.

Another day

I just started this blog. I think part of my intent in opening my life up to the web with the possibility of other people seeing it was to share some the comic relief in this ongoing tragedy called life. Thus far I have only found myself wanting to share the difficulties of being a widower and talk about Rebecca. Perhaps this is my subconscious wanting to burst out. A very good friend of mine called me a 'silent sufferer' the other day. This thought was reiterated by my own doctor when he called me one of his more difficult patients. He said, "The problem isn't that you complain too much. In fact you complain too little." He continued, "I know that you are hurting inside; sometimes physically, sometimes emotionally. The problem is that you won't tell me how you are truly feeling unless the pain is well beyond what the average person can withstand." That may be true. I don't know. I just think that people tire of hearing me. It makes them uncomfortable when I continually bring up "my wife." I just can't help it.

The other day I was visiting with a friend while at physical therapy. She was telling me what it was like for her when her husband died when she was only 25 years old. She told me that she still (18 years later) struggles with what to call her first husband. Do you refer to them as "my late husband", "my first husband", "my baby's daddy"? What's the right answer? Personally, I feel that if I say anything other than referring to Rebecca as my wife I need to qualify the statement. There is just this insatiable need to make sure that people don’t think that I'm a divorcee or that she was some deadbeat wife. The whole prospect is insane! I'm certain that nobody other than me really cares how I label Rebecca. To me though, nothing could be more important.

Regarding this blog, I’m hoping that perhaps once I unload some of the grief that I feel regarding my sweetheart I can turn this into a funny blog to read. There are plenty of things that I hear and see as a UPS driver. The problem that I face right now is that I still feel so much anguish inside that it is hard for me to focus on anything else. My hope is that this blog can help me move past that.

Wow! I'm here.

I'm not sure what I'm going to do with this blog. I suppose catalog/journal my life as a widower who works for UPS. The reason I included the two items, brown (UPS) and widower, in my title is due to the fact that these two factors seem to dictate the majority of the comic relief in my life. It likely wouldn't appear to my average NWFs (Non-Widowed Friends) that widowhood would offer much laughter but I figure once you throw a single father in with twin girls....anything is possible. Then you add dating into the mix, just look out. Not that serious dating is a factor at this point but perhaps someday.