Write About Your Feelings. It Helps.

It's guest Friday, and Dorothy Skarles is back to highlight a subject close to her heart.

Bereavement.

According to the Merriam-Webster Dictionary, bereavement is a noun; a state or fact of being.  But in the post that follows, Dorothy turns it into a verb. 

By that I mean, Dorothy shares her emotional response to loss in a way that we can all understand. 

Bereavement is not orderly.  Bereavement is not predictable.  Yet it is universal in that it is a normal part of life.  And it hurts.
 
I commend Dorothy for picking up the pen once again and sharing her hurt and her loss.  I don't know if I could be that courageous.

Welcome Dorothy.

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Today, I am blogging on my widowhood, and trying to get myself in gear so I can begin to write again and follow the advice I give to memoir writers. "Write about your feelings.  It helps.”

It is said by many that "Life goes on."

But do they realize that death is also in life?

Death renders itself in shock, disbelief, bitterness, self-reproach, worry, regret, grief, tears, and heartbreak.  After years of a happy marriage, this is where my feelings now dwell.  A Christmas morning death from a heart attack was an end and a new beginning for me. 

By the G™

The passing of twelve months.  And then.  That first Christmas.  A great holiday escape from sadness and pain. A visit to my husband's relatives, whom I loved, would help to make everything all right and the sharp edge of suffering go away.

Trouble was, without knowing it, I had packed a pile of despair and grief into the suitcase to take with me.

The happy smiling faces and good cheer that surrounded me in the holiday only underscored the reality that I couldn't run away from my new marital status and my complete feeling of abandonment.

Now, one year later, the second year of my Christmas hurtle has arrived.  But this time, I am staying home to face my fears.  It may look like I want to die, but what's really me wants to live.

As I go through the rooms of the house, I feel love and comfort. 

It is the one thing that helps me live.

I have never taken down the Christmas decorations my husband put up. They are all so beautiful, it actually makes me feel good.

Oh, the instant tears still come, just like now as I write.  And I never know when I'll feel bad, or sad. 

But I know love surrounds me in those poinsettias, red bows, teddy bears, and the Santa standing by the fireplace with a cheery smile. It helps me remember the happy times with family, food, and laughter.

My learning to live as a widow is slow. 

About six months ago, I went to a bereavement group.  Both the men and women, I noticed, were in the same boat. They talked about their loved ones, how hard it is to cook and eat alone, problems in sleeping, or family members who don't seem to come over as often.

The group is now a source of great strength for me.  Each of us has gone through the same things, and it helps to know that no one is alone to face the future. The many problems may differ, but surprisingly, they are all the same.

By catchesthelight

So world, bring on this new beginning. 

The past is past, and year three is right around the corner.

Still, it makes me wonder how others who have lost a loved one make it.

Are there any answers?

(Photo credit: Bereavement Card,by exilibris)