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Being a Widow

My experience of dealing with grief as a widow

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About Jane's brain tumour journey: Astrocytoma.co.uk
 

Pain is good

27 August 2011

My pain is my last link to her, so as much as it hurts, I wrap it around me like a blanket, like a teenaged girl cutting jagged lines on her inner thigh with a razor blade, inflicting hurt on myself because I need to feel something. I'm not ready for time to heal this wound, but I also know I'm powerless to stop it. And knowing that makes me fight harder than ever to hold on to the pain and anchor myself in this tragedy while it's still freshly tragic. 

So every so often I pull at my scabs like a dog, desperately trying to draw some fresh blood from my open wound, but even as I do it, I know the day will come when I pull off that scab and there's no blood underneath it, just he soft pink expanse of virgin skin. And when that finally happens, when time has inevitably had its way with me, then I'll know she's gone for good.

Jonathan Tropper - How to talk to a widower

This is exactly it. This is the reason why I actively seek out thns that upset me. It connects me to Jane. An hour of tears is still better than an hour of nothingness.

6 comments:

Julie said...

I will check that book out in a tick.

But ... the pulling at the scab ... I am getting confused about whether it is Jane who is gone or the hurt that is gone, when you can no longer figuratively draw blood. I also can't get my head around your knowing she is gone, and your accepting she is gone.

I will look at the book ...

Dutchcloggie said...

The book is a novel. It could be described as Lad Lit I guess. The main character is a columnist and he writes this in one of his columns.

Knowing and accepting are two different things. I know she is gone, physically. But I have clearly not accepted this because I keep seeking out things that cause me pain. In the hope that I will feel just as connected to her when I feel pain (or joy, for that matter) as I did when she was alive. In the hope that pain can stir up the same emotions as a physical presence.

Eventually I will realise and accept that I will never again feel that way with Jane. I will never again feel exactly the same just THINKING about her as I did when physically BEING with her.

I am not yet willing to give up trying though. Eventhough I know I will lose the battle. But eventually, the things that now cause me pain will be less painful. A bit like a drug habit, eventually it no longer evokes the same feelings and physical response because you have gotten used to it.

I guess the pulling of the scab still hurts but there will be less and less of a wound underneath. Over time, I will find things less painful, even if I want them to be painful. And that will signal some kind of acceptance, even if in a perverse way I don't want to accept it.

Now my head hurts from too much analysing.

Julie said...

I put the book back on the shelf, once I read the synopsis. Not what I (me) was looking for.

And yes, I had visions that was where your thinking/feeling was churning.

All good.

Dutchcloggie said...

I only bought the book because i spotted it t a charity shop in Cornwall when I needed something to read. I chanced 75p on it. Did not like it all that much. I mostly liked the columns the main character writes for the magazine he works at. Shame there are only 3 of them in the book. They are the best part of the book because they describe quite accurately how he feels about loss and how he is trying to explain why he can not wash the bedsheets she slept on, how he can not wash the cup she drank from.

I still have Jane's pj trousers and t-shirt that she died in on the nightstand. I know the funeral home has most likely washed them before giving them back to me. But even so, 3 months later, I still can not get myself to wash them or put them in the cupboard. I can not explain why but he does in his column....

Julie said...

That's the sort of thing that I would put in a brown paper bag and keep forever. In their chuck-out, my executors would wonder WTF it was.

Dutchcloggie said...

Haha, i first thought your comment referred to the book (I got an email with yourcomment and forgot the last paragraph of my previous comment about Jane's PJs. ) I wanted to say: the book was not THAT bad....

Anyway, yes, I can not see myself do anything with the tshirt & trousers. For about a week, the tshirt lived on a pillow next to my pillow. It has many tears on it. It has been hugged, smelt & cried upon some more.

Hang on.... This is turning into a blog post....stay tuned...

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