A reader writes: How does one deal with the overwhelming grief at 14 months and 9 days? For me it is harder and more painful now. Am I crazy, Marty? I have not dreamed of my beloved since he went to Heaven, except for a nightmare the night he died, that they lost him in the tunnels in the hospital. I can't feel him. No one will say his name, and I am trying desperately to understand all of this. Does it mean that since I cannot dream or feel him, I did something wrong? I feel that way.
My doctor/therapist told me that the second year may be harder, and she was so right. Am I the only person who feels this way?
I go through the motions of work, of pretending I am okay, but all I want is my beloved back, and that will never change. It hurts so much when people tell me that I have to go on for my boys and our granddaughter. What do they think I'm doing right now? I am so tired, and then I feel guilty because I could never even imagine how tired my husband was with his chemo treatments. I feel betrayed by God right now. How do you get good results, stable results on the brain tumor one day, and then one week later the beginning of the end starts?
I know I am rambling, Marty. I know I should not apologize, but I am. I will never understand any of this, and yet I am trying, trying, and getting more lost each day.
My response: You've raised some very important questions, my dear, and I will do my best to address them.
First, I can assure you that you certainly are not "the only person who feels this way."
The notion that the first year of grief is the hardest, and the time when support is needed most, is a common misconception. There is nothing magical about getting through that first year without the physical presence of your loved one. It simply means that you've survived your first four seasons of grief, along with all the significant milestones and special days—the first birthday, first wedding anniversary, first holiday, and so on. When those occasions come around again, you can at least say, "I made it through this day once before, and now I know I can do it again."
You mention that your doctor and therapist told you that "the second year may be harder," and for some mourners, that is indeed true. The protective barrier of shock and numbness that helped carry you through the early months has faded, and many of the secondary losses have become more apparent. The reality is that grief does not end after the first anniversary of a death. We continue to need understanding, compassion, and support.
You're understandably frustrated with those who tell you that you "have to go on," leaving you to wonder, "What do they think I'm doing right now?" As grief specialist Harold Ivan Smith often says, mourners are grieving in a "get-over-it" and "move-on" world. Many people have little understanding of grief, especially if they have never experienced the death of someone close to them.
His advice is this: "Focus on your grief. In the future, when your friends experience grief, as they will, your example of taking as much time as you need to work through your grief will encourage them to do the same." He also suggests that, with some friends, it may be helpful to be direct: "Let me tell you how the idea that I should be over it by now sounds to me." In fact, you may be doing them a favor by helping them understand how their words affect someone who is grieving.
You say that you feel "betrayed by God," and that, too, is more common than many people realize. In his remarkable book, A Grief Observed, C. S. Lewis writes:
Lewis goes on to describe the fear not of losing belief in God, but of concluding that God is indifferent or absent in times of deepest suffering. His words resonate with many bereaved people because they give voice to feelings that are often difficult to admit aloud.Meanwhile, where is God? This is one of the most disquieting symptoms . . . go to Him when your need is desperate, when all other help is vain, and what do you find? A door slammed in your face, and a sound of bolting and double bolting on the inside. After that, silence. You may as well turn away. The longer you wait, the longer the silence will become.
You say that you will never understand any of this, but I respectfully disagree. I think that, like all of us coping with significant loss, you are in the process of coming to an understanding of your husband's death and the impact it has had—and will continue to have—on your life.
The process of grief is not something that can be rushed, finished, or neatly completed. It unfolds in its own time. And wherever you may be in that process today —whether at 14 months, 14 years, or somewhere in between—your grief deserves patience, compassion, and understanding.
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