Just Between You and Me
Al makes a very good point….we need to keep our cancer memories under the surface.
I learned over the last 32 months that when friends asked how I was doing, immediately after Leroy died, they were expecting me to answer describing how hard life was without him. I would say how much I miss him. I would say how much I miss hearing his voice and his laugh. As the months have passed, I’ve had people tell me I should be over the grief. I shouldn’t feel melancholy any more. So now, I know who I can be straight with and express my feelings and who really is just asking, because they think it’s the right thing to do.
I’ve learned to put those feelings and those memories just under the surface, where I can feel them, but where they are not on display.
Leroy, I miss you like crazy….but that’s just between you and me.
April 29, 2011 @ 2:25 pm
I feel for you. Sometimes keeping your feelings on the surface is not just about losing someone you really love. I don not know you personally but let give you an electronic hug. I will not ask anymore.
April 23, 2011 @ 1:51 pm
It’s a shame that we must keep our true feelings under the surface, but it certainly is easier. As Al said, most really do not want to hear our true response. I’m participating in the new Widowed Village web site and I’m simply amazed at how quickly some are ready to start dating. In some cases, I guess it’s more understandable … very young widows with very young children who have many years ahead of them that they don’t want to spend alone … but there are also older widows, married for many years, who are seeking out new companionship. When I made a comment about being quite comfortable in spending my remaining years alone, I received many responses questioning my stance. There are some things it’s just easier to keep under the surface.
April 20, 2011 @ 8:15 pm
I constantly hear the word “closure” when referring to losing a loved one. How can you have closure on something that was a part of your life for so very long and was so deeply embedded in your heart and soul? I know people that have lost children and I guarantee you there has never been any closure and for us here, I doubt that we will ever have it. My life is different in so many ways and I have made minor changes (like getting a smaller trash bin from the town…baby steps folks) but that hole in my heart will never be closed. Like Al, I don’t understand how in a year some people can love someone else enough to commit to a life with them but as he said to each his own and I won’t judge them and I hope I will not be judged for still having regular meltdowns. Everything around me is a reminder of Jim and our lives together and I am not willing to let go of that but I do give the polite answer…I’m ok. This is the only place I truly let anyone know how much it still hurts and how lonely it is without my sidekick.
April 20, 2011 @ 6:56 pm
Sometimes it is just the human question “How are you doing?’ You could say almost anything in response because the person who asked the question already has the answer that fits the question “I’m doing well. Some days are harder than others but I’m OK.” They really aren’t interested in hearing the real answer ’cause that would require them to become engaged with you at a level that they aren’t interested in doing. Polite question = polite answer and we move on. The feelings you have are profound and affect you deeply but some just don’t understand that dynamic. The next time someone asks you “How are you doing?’ Ask them “Do you really want to know or are we making polite conversation?” The look on their face will be priceless!
I know people who have lost a spouse and have found someone and remarried within less than a year. I want to ask them “what memories do you have if any from the past 30 years” or is moving on just too easy for you…..sorta like an Etch-a-Sketch…pull the page and viola’, I start all over with a clean memory. Each to his/her own.
April 20, 2011 @ 4:43 pm
I know what you mean. Many people seem to have the perspective that one just allows for some arbitrary period of grief and then “gets over it”; as if one can ever “get over” the loss of a loved one. I miss Patrick more than I can say, and I miss everyone else whom cancer has taken from me, just as though each died yesterday. The hole never gets re-filled; it just goes a little deeper.