10-04-2024, 12:15 AM
I have to admit, I have been avoiding reading this thread. The loss of my husband this past May is still very raw for me and we have yet to find one of the parties responsible. But, seeing your comment this morning on my post about his accident gave me the strength I needed to venture in. Thank you so much for thinking of me and taking the time to check in. That means a lot more than you might imagine.
As I write this, I just opened a $200 bottle of tequila that one on my husband's clients gave him for his 50th birthday. A birthday he would unfortunately not be around to celebrate because someone ran a red light and he was at the wrong place at the wrong time. I'm pouring a glass for myself and toasting to all those we have loved and lost. Your wife, Jaded's husband, my husband and all the other's I know must be out there reading this.
My husband and I were together for 13 years and the loss for me has been earth shatteringly profound. I cannot imagine what it must be like for you after 43 years of marriage. The void must be overwhelming. I'm not really in a place to give advice as I am still navigating this course. I can only offer what others who have been on this journey longer have shared with me. I've had many people reach out to me to share their own stories of grief and loss and there seems to be one theme I hear again and again. People talk about the beauty they have found in the midst of the tragedy. I have to admit, this was a hard one for me to wrap my head around but, I think I understand now. The beauty is the love that endures through it all. You said it hurts you that you appreciate her more now than when she was alive. I too have experienced that feeling. Is it shameful? I don't think so. I think it's part of the beauty. Something that we couldn't see otherwise.
I'll share an experience that happened the day of my husband's death. He had left for work early in the morning like he normally did. I had a Dr. appointment that morning and left about an hour after him (little did I know he was already gone by then) My drive would have taken me through the intersection where he had his accident, but it was blocked off and I had to detour around. I had no idea this was in any way related to my husband until much later. When I got home, my husband's cat Max was hiding under the couch and seemed very freaked out. This was completely unlike him and I though it very odd. I tried to get him to come out, but he wouldn't. I decided to let Max be and got on my treadmill and started to work out. I wasn't even 5 minutes into my run when I suddenly and for no apparent reason said out loud, "There's going to be a lot of changes." At that very moment the phone rang. It was the hospital calling. Apparently, my husband had forgotten his wallet at home that day and it had taken them awhile to locate my number. I can't shake the feeling that he was there with me right before the call, trying to prepare me for what was to come. Trying to say goodbye.
I miss him every single day and like you there's not a moment since the accident that he's not on my mind. Sometimes I'm angry at him for insisting on riding that stupid motorcycle, sometimes I grieve over the senselessness of it all, but the love never goes away, and I suspect that's what you're really holding onto - the love. Don't let it go. Don't ever let it go.
As I write this, I just opened a $200 bottle of tequila that one on my husband's clients gave him for his 50th birthday. A birthday he would unfortunately not be around to celebrate because someone ran a red light and he was at the wrong place at the wrong time. I'm pouring a glass for myself and toasting to all those we have loved and lost. Your wife, Jaded's husband, my husband and all the other's I know must be out there reading this.
My husband and I were together for 13 years and the loss for me has been earth shatteringly profound. I cannot imagine what it must be like for you after 43 years of marriage. The void must be overwhelming. I'm not really in a place to give advice as I am still navigating this course. I can only offer what others who have been on this journey longer have shared with me. I've had many people reach out to me to share their own stories of grief and loss and there seems to be one theme I hear again and again. People talk about the beauty they have found in the midst of the tragedy. I have to admit, this was a hard one for me to wrap my head around but, I think I understand now. The beauty is the love that endures through it all. You said it hurts you that you appreciate her more now than when she was alive. I too have experienced that feeling. Is it shameful? I don't think so. I think it's part of the beauty. Something that we couldn't see otherwise.
I'll share an experience that happened the day of my husband's death. He had left for work early in the morning like he normally did. I had a Dr. appointment that morning and left about an hour after him (little did I know he was already gone by then) My drive would have taken me through the intersection where he had his accident, but it was blocked off and I had to detour around. I had no idea this was in any way related to my husband until much later. When I got home, my husband's cat Max was hiding under the couch and seemed very freaked out. This was completely unlike him and I though it very odd. I tried to get him to come out, but he wouldn't. I decided to let Max be and got on my treadmill and started to work out. I wasn't even 5 minutes into my run when I suddenly and for no apparent reason said out loud, "There's going to be a lot of changes." At that very moment the phone rang. It was the hospital calling. Apparently, my husband had forgotten his wallet at home that day and it had taken them awhile to locate my number. I can't shake the feeling that he was there with me right before the call, trying to prepare me for what was to come. Trying to say goodbye.
I miss him every single day and like you there's not a moment since the accident that he's not on my mind. Sometimes I'm angry at him for insisting on riding that stupid motorcycle, sometimes I grieve over the senselessness of it all, but the love never goes away, and I suspect that's what you're really holding onto - the love. Don't let it go. Don't ever let it go.
