My Peculiar Journey Through Grief

26 June 2019

It started out like any other recent day, except I woke up at 4:30am. The thought crossed my mind that I should dress and go to the hospital to be with my love. I got up, was pulling my clothing on, and the phone rang. It was the nurse’s station. “Mrs. Preisler, come to the hospital as quickly as possible. There has been a change in your husband’s vital signs.” I called a friend because I knew what that meant then rushed to the hospital to find my husband lying in his hospital bed, still warm, but lifeless. He was more peaceful than I had seen him for at least a year. I will never forget the peaceful look on his face while my heart was breaking into a million pieces.

My journey into the wilderness of grief began.

How did I deal with the first hours of grief? Details, details, details.

Notify our family. Notify close friends. Call the funeral home (I had strict instructions).

Answer calls, answer questions. More calls. More questions. Generosity abounds. Find out travel plans. Wait for my son to come. Meet our friend and go plan the Jewish funeral (more strict instructions). My husband loved to give instructions. Dinner, finally, then home to an empty house. A house where my love would never return. The details got me through the day. Robotic numbness took over. Tears never stopped. The blackness of grief had not yet descended.

But that was not to last.

Grief descended like a hurricane.

I made it through the funeral, shiva, family in town hovering with love. Then survived the week of resisting too many changes in my home. Eventually, everyone left. However, my grief and the overwhelming loss of my love remained.

6 July 2019

Just some random thoughts:

Live life as though every day is your last, it could be…

If you love someone, tell them… often

Slow down to enjoy the little moments

Eat with chopsticks

Wasabi will clear one’s head

Don’t make any major decisions right after a tragedy.

Texting is great but talking is better

When someone is grieving, they are not okay.

Don’t ask them how they’re doing.

They are so sad they don’t even want to talk to themselves.

Nothing is ‘normal’ and they can’t act like it is – so being in groups where people will say dumb things like “s/he’s in a better place,” or give sympathetic looks is NOT good.

Instead, call them.

Let them talk.

Listen.

Let them cry.

It will be uncomfortable.

It will be a gift.

Find something to laugh at

Even while crying…

© Lisa P