Stale Coffee

I am tired.  I am tired of everything about widowed life.  It is heavy.  And, for the better part of two years and a handful of months, I have been doing the heavy lifting of grief.  I am sick of it.  The loneliness.  The isolation.  The emotional and mental exhaustion.  I am tired of all that grief offers.  I think I have sampled it all.  And, I can say with authority, it all pretty much sucks.  Yep.  Hard pass on what grief is serving.  Thanks, but no thanks.  I'm good.  I'm fed up.  I'm full.



Living with grief is kinda like the stale coffee I drank this morning. 

Lacklustre, mediocre and kinda lukewarm. 

I would not serve the cruddy coffee I drank to anyone I liked; and likewise,

I would not wish grief on another human being. 


Being Mike's widow is by far the hardest thing I have ever endured.  I was building my life around him and his death destroyed everything that I imagined my future to be.  When he died I felt my foundation collapse.  I buried Mike, but it was me who was buried alive by the wreckage of our dilapidated life.  My words are powerful, but they only shine a dim light on the darkness of widowhood.  My writing, at best, outlines the landscape of grief and scratches the surface of the aching and ugliness.  But, those of us who live with grief know all too well how it relentlessly claws at your Soul - like nothing else can. 

There is simply no way to fully explain the awfulness of this mess.  Grief must be experienced to be fully understood; and, I do not recommend this experience to anyone.  This is not for the faint of heart. That said, with forced practice, I am getting fairly proficient at grief, but it is not something I ever wanted to excel at.  I have no desire to become good at grief.  I didn't sign up for this and I would love to revoke my membership to this club.  It is not working out for me.  It doesn't suit my lifestyle.  It is simply not a good fit.  

Grief and I need to part ways.  I am tired of waking up with a heavy heart.  And, I am equally exasperated about going to bed with a sadness inside me that runs so deep I am surprised it doesn't drip from me onto my bedsheets.   I am detached from everything around me.  And, an apathy lives inside me that I can not seem to shake.

I do not want to be unresponsive and dispassionate, but I am.  I want to reengage in living, but I haven't yet.  I am tired of being without joy.  And, I know full well that the only way to reenter life is to reengage in living, but it is so damn hard to live without him.  It is incredibly difficult to breathe life into yourself when you are breathless and running on empty.  It is so very hard to action carefully architected plans when your heart feels heavy.  Yet, I desperately want to feel the hum of a normal life again.  I want to return to days gone by when I was content and deliciously happy. 

So, now what?  How do I make this happen? I ask myself this question again and again.  And, I am not sure.  I don't know.  I am simply not sure what to do next.  I am unsure about the direction of my life.  I am not sure what I can do to recreate a life I am excited about.  I could blog about the ideas that swirl around my head and the hopes that live inside my heart, but until I action these things they aren't real.  I haven't breathed air into any of these thoughts so I keep to them myself for now.  Maybe, what's next is that I will stop drinking stale coffee.  I can start tomorrow by making fresh coffee and see where that leads me. 

It's as good a plan as any.




Showing 7 reactions

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  • Jane Santa Hess
    commented 2019-03-03 12:45:25 -0800
    I try each day to not be overtaken by grief. Attempting new projects, cooking, reading, support group, and communication with others helps but nothing can replace 47 years of love. I don’t know what else to do and others seem to think I am doing well after 10 months since his death. I try to make fresh coffee as often as I can but there are days it tastes quite bitter. I have heard recently of friends who are enduring unbelievable pain from difficult circumstances so I must find some light in where I am at and what I can accomplish each day.
  • Staci Sulin
    commented 2019-03-03 11:42:35 -0800
    Indie, Yes, I agree, sometimes it is hard to “really even give a shit”. Yet, here we are. I attempt to try to reenter life because the alternative is too bleak for me and my children. ~S.
  • Staci Sulin
    commented 2019-03-03 11:40:42 -0800
    Jude, It is early days and I say this respectfully. I know they have been the longest days and loneliest nights of your life. If you can, continue to lean into your grief, it is not easy but the only way to endure this is to feel it to the depths of you. Somehow, we get through the days and survive the nights; and, eventually, you reach a point where your tears fall less heavily. I cried every day, multiple times a day for the first year. And, more accurately, I spent a good deal of time sobbing on the floor begging Mike to come back. It was awful.
    But, now, two years and some months later, I am rarely brought to my knees by my grief. Grief is fluid. Thankfully it changes and does soften. Best to you, ~S.
  • Staci Sulin
    commented 2019-03-03 11:34:40 -0800
    Karen, The days alone in the house are not easy. I have spent many nights alone where the only sound is the clock ticking. I am trying to find my footing again this third year into widowhood, but some days are just plain tough. Best to you, ~S.
  • indie
    commented 2019-03-03 11:03:09 -0800
    I pretend and then I pretend some more pretending that any of this means anything or that I really even give a shit. I don’t. I am wearing very thin at pretending.
  • Jude Craddock
    commented 2019-03-03 06:18:27 -0800
    I am just 3 1/2 months into this, and agree with every word. I am working hard, crying hard, to get through this every moment. Not ‘over,’ ‘through.’ We were joined, hip and heart for 47 years. Heartache is a deep physical pain, as well as emotional. Feels like it’s going to burn up. Hot Poker Style.

    Well written. I wish you didn’t know it so well.
  • Karen Lawrence
    commented 2019-03-02 17:19:59 -0800
    This. Perfectly said. I’m at 6 1/2 years out and while I have rejoined life in many ways, every day is still a struggle. Especially when I’m home alone. At home I struggle to keep up with things I need to do: dishes, paperwork, etc. Just don’t have the drive or energy.