This Ringing

MLRotate1.JPGI’ve noticed this past week how very loud my grief is in relation to all the other bits that make up the person of Stephanie. We all have our memories, milestones, accomplishments, regrets…all the things we did and that happened to us, combined with the sorts of personalities we are, making us the people we are now. But when you have this experience of your husband dying right in the middle of it…well, that one thing alone is just so frigging loud. His loss is like nothing else I’ve ever gone through. It is a constant noise in the background of my being, and sometimes it drowns out everything else.

 

I know I am learning how to live with it. To live with the grief of missing him, the sorrow of the disappearance of the life I knew with him. That it will never go away, I will never get over it…and some days, I think, hey, look at me, I’m surviving. I’m figuring this stuff out. Other days not so much. Other days I just want to hold my hands over my ears and run screaming away from it…but I can’t. It follows me everywhere. I cannot escape. Maybe that is why I am filling my life with other stuff. Music, places to go, people to see…maybe I’m thinking if I tune in to other channels, the sound of my grief will get dialed down somehow. The musician and I just came back from a staycation weekend at one of the resorts where he plays here on the island; he gets a good deal on a room there. And yes - it was lovely. Air conditioned splendor (it’s been so bloody hot and humid here); gorgeous beach, great food.

 

And Mike was there the entire time. I was constantly imagining what he would say, how he would like that, or not like this…I could see him in my mind’s eye floating in the water, or walking across the sand…then I was standing waiting for the elevator and realized the music over the sound system was the CD of a Hawaiian group Mike played for years every time he gave a treatment. It’s a lovely, gentle, soothing background sort of music. It was the same CD that was playing at the chiropractor I started seeing after he died; it made me cry because somehow, I thought, he was there, and telling me, I’m sorry I can’t fix you anymore honey, but this person can help you. And she did. I can’t listen to that CD now. But sometimes it’s just playing. And then he is there, so clearly, so loudly. And I miss him so much.

 

I do realize that I would not have been there at all if he were still here. I would never have done all the traveling I’ve done; so much is changed in my life. And we can see the positive side of that. Our worlds are evolving around us in ways we could not have anticipated. We are learning to live in the world that exists without them, because there is no other choice. We are perhaps even learning to appreciate our own lives with more depth and awareness than if we had not experienced this level of grief. And there are good things in there. But really? The strange new is just so frigging strange.

 

And LOUD. The scar that is scraped across my psyche is permanent. It is ringing with an endless reverberation. It will not shut up.

 


Showing 6 reactions

Please check your e-mail for a link to activate your account.
  • commented 2015-10-26 18:30:05 -0700
    It’s been 5 years, and I still miss my husband each day. I went out to dinner a wife and came home that night a widow. It’s always hard this time of year aso his birthday was Oct 30th and our anniversary was Nov 2nd.but I get through it.
  • commented 2015-10-23 16:28:20 -0700
    A few months ago I would have also described the things I’m doing like travel and social engagements and meeting new people as distractions. I was doing lots and finding little meaning in much of it. That has changed – now I’m looking forward more than back with anticipation and even excitement. Even how I experience triggers has changed – lately I’ve found the triggers and the remembering to be comforting. I like this. It’s so much better than where I was a few months ago. I’m not kidding myself – I know it’s all “subject to change”, but like you, Stephanie, I’m having times where I think I’m figuring this thing out even though I never wanted to have to do that. And I also have an iPod full of music I can’t listen to – I’ve charged the iPod a few times and then put it back in the drawer.
  • commented 2015-10-23 13:46:10 -0700
    I have an iPod full of music I can’t listen to. I wonder if I ever will. It just elicits so many heartbreaking memories. Thank you Tricia. I will miss you here but look forward to keeping in touch. xoxo
  • commented 2015-10-23 02:30:07 -0700
    The power of music is so palpable. My Stan loved music so much. Most of the music he loved I cannot listen to. It just makes me too sad. So many distractions in our lives, but the music just takes us back to where we were, and our loss of them. Thanks for this Stephanie. x
  • commented 2015-10-22 19:04:39 -0700
    Thank you for your comment, Stephen. It seems a never-ending process. Appreciate your feedback and support very much.
  • commented 2015-10-22 07:31:45 -0700
    You describe distractions perfectly Stephanie. That’s what it is, simply distractions and though as you say we are indeed living by no choice in an ever evolving new life, when the distractions are gone, the same old reality creeps back in. The triggers will still get us every time. How, and why even should that ever end? I can’t see it but I keep soldiering on because like you say we are indeed learning to live in this new world even if it still sucks sometimes. Good blog. I really felt what you said.