Does Grief Ever Ends or Does the Emotional Pain Just Remain Dormant?
I’m confused about my own grief.
Grief, as painful as it is, occupies a space inside you. In a rooted, lonely way, grief keeps the loved one you lost in you; alive in your memories, alive in your senses. It allows them to keep being part of your life, even if only you know they’re there.
I lost the love of my life eight years ago. The hurt of losing him was the deepest and sharp thing I’ve ever felt. Emotionally, mentally, and even physically.
For a while, I lost myself in grief; I allowed it to take control of my life. I didn’t fight it — I didn’t want to.
It’s not that I wanted to feed my misery, but rather that I believe you need to feel the emotions as they present to you. There’s no point in running from them or hiding or repressing them.
You have no control over emotions; they will always manifest themselves in your body, one way or the other, whether you want them or not.
The day I lost my partner was the day I shut myself from the world. I began a new solitary life, learning to manage life without my love and my best friend.
That new life couldn’t be lived in the same place I had built and lived a happy life with him for thirteen years. The pain and sense of “wrong” were unbearable. That place was ours; there was no room for me only, nothing made sense. I was so lost.
Panic attacks and newborn agoraphobia became my companions. And they were preventing my rebirth. I had to run away. Hiding wasn’t working anymore.
I moved to a different country. I started a new career. In time, I allowed people to get closer, and some of my colleagues became good friends. I started dating again.
During all that time, my love was always in me. Not as a shadow, even less as a burden. He was part of me and I loved it. I missed him terribly. I still cried almost daily; I spoke with him in my head (and sometimes aloud) all the time — to share my day, to show him the beautiful places I was exploring, that I knew he would love too. I continued to share my life with him in a new, absent way.
Years passed. Tears were replaced with smiles when thinking about my love.
I thought about him less and less. And it made me feel guilty. Not that my love was dying — that’s impossible, I know. But his presence in me became less notorious.
A few years ago, I realised I was losing the memory of his voice. That broke my heart! How could I be forgetting something so special and important? But I was…
When my love passed away, I removed all his photos from sight; it was too painful to look at him. I have hundreds of them in my virtual cloud. Videos as well. They are there to refresh my memory of him if I want. But I just can’t, it’s too painful. I have one picture of us together, hidden in a drawer. Sometimes I go there, take it out and give him a kiss. I close my eyes, hold the picture in my arms, and imagine I’m hugging him — that he’s hugging me. But then the pain becomes sharp again, so I hide the picture once more. Until I’m strong again to repeat the process.
I envy people who have pictures of their lost loved ones on display. I think I’d like that; to look at my love and talk with him, eye on picture, telling him about my day — doing everything I do in my head, but looking at him. I can’t. I just can’t look at him. His memory is solely present in my heart.
Eight years have passed since my love died. I don’t grieve his death as I used to. It doesn’t hurt as it hurt before. Does this mean that my grief is over? Or that it goes dormant and comes alive once in a while? Like today, when I felt compelled to write about him. Where tears came to visit again.
I’m not exactly looking for answers. I just don’t understand how grief is supposed to work.
Why do I spend weeks, even months, without dropping a tear for him; where my life is fulfilled and I don’t miss his absence (although he’s always with me), and other days, it hurts so much again?
The pain I experienced after losing the love of my life was the most desperate and agonising emotion I ever felt. I wish it to no one and I don’t want it ever again.
Grief has the power of destroying you.
But grief is also a companion. It keeps the loved ones cosily alive inside us. I don’t want my love to be only a memory. I want him to be part of me. Forever!
Should I then feed grief? That can’t be healthy for sure. But I can’t accept the idea of death being so definitive. I want — I need! — the love of my life to be present in me. I learned to live happily this way.
I am complete because I have all the things of the “real” world and, inside me, with only me accessing it, I have him. Only mine, only us.
I don’t know if grief is something that ends. I know that time teaches you to deal with the loss; that the pain will smooth. And, if you wish, the memories won’t die. But will you ever stop grieving the ones you love? That I don’t know. And I don’t think I will ever know.
*For you, my sweet B. I love you forever and always*
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