It is now 5 months since Jane died. How am I doing? Am I healing? Are things easier now?
When Elisabeth Kubler-Ross introduced her 5 stages of grief (Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression and Acceptance), she meant well but in a way did a lot of damage. Those who have not experienced grief more or less expect us to go through these stages in a linear fashion, one after the other. That means that after a while, we should have reached stage 5: Acceptance.
Well let me tell you: the 5 stages are bullshit. I was never in denial or angry. Nor did I ever bargain with death. I never felt guilty. I feel regret about things I said or stuff we did not do. But not guilt. I accepted Jane's death from the moment she died.
So the only 'stage' left is depression. Well yes. The love of my life, my past, present and future has been taken away. Nothing left but darkness, loss and sadness. So I am depressed. Not suffering from depression. But I am depressed at the moment.
I have good times with people. I have no good times on my own. Ever. But why is it harder now than it was 3 months ago?
Healing happens when you encounter situations in life that you would have faced with your partner and suddenly you are alone facing them. And then you find you CAN live through those situations. And the second time that situation comes around, you will find you can cope better.
I believe this is why I, like so many widows, I found the first few months after Jane's death 'easier'. Those first few weeks and months, I was so engrossed in my loss that I did not really experience life. So I could not heal. Once I started to get back to life suddenly I was shopping and cooking for one, out with friends for whom life has more or less gone on as normal whilst my entire life and future lies in ruins before me. Bit by bit, I came across bits of life that used to include Jane but no longer do.
So instead of an all-covering grey blanket of loss and depression, it has now changed in to a daily parade of sharp moments of shock and loss. In the early days, I expected, and was expected, to cry all the time. These days, I can be 'perfectly fine', actually feeling ok and enjoying something when suddenly, out of the blue, something triggers a memory or emotion. And then I just crumble. And then it passes and I get up again. Until the next moment.
My pain has nothing to do with how long it has been since I last spoke to Jane or how long since I last touched her. Grief is about that one moment, no matter how long after her death, that one moment when I really need her and she's not there.
It is like walking around town, knowing there is a sniper waiting for you. You KNOW he will shoot but you don't know where he is or when he will strike. So you don't know what to avoid, where is safe.
This gives me two choices: I hide from my Grief Sniper by curling up in a ball in my house and never participate in life. This will mean more prolonged but more shallow grief. Or, I go on as normal as possible, knowing I will get hit and that there will be moments of very intense pain.
I choose life.
But please don't expect me to enjoy it yet.
PS: I took our wedding rings to a jeweler and asked them to create this necklace. I love it.