I know.
I know how insanely scared and in shock you are. I know that you can't believe the world has just crashed down around you. Your home will be filled with lots of people. It is going to be overwhelming in so many ways: overwhelming love and gratitude for all of the people who care enough to show up; overwhelming sadness for the reason they are in your home; overwhelming because now that your home is finally overflowing with people you love, the most important person is missing. You're going to have to breathe. Just keep breathing. Say a prayer for strength.
I know that your hands are shaking and that your heart is beating uncontrollably, yet in the same instance you fear it will stop beating. It won't stop. It will beat to a new rhythm one day. It will just take a while. I know you are sitting in a chair or on the couch and you just cannot grasp that this is the new reality. Honey, I'm so incredibly, unimaginably sorry. I truly truly am. Just keep breathing. And say a prayer for strength.
When you see your husband or wife for the first time after, you're going to have to muster the strength to do it. I chose not to see Mike's face because I was told he took a pretty hard hit to the side of his face and head when he fell into the concrete mixer. I did not want to see him any other way than as his handsome, perfect self. But I did want to hold his hand. The funeral director, who is also a friend, covered Mike's face for me but pulled his hand free of the white sheet so that I could hold it. You do what you're comfortable with and the funeral director will be more than willing to oblige. Don't be afraid to hold his hand. Don't be afraid to lay your head on his chest. You will miss the sound of his heartbeat that used to be there when your head rested on him. I know that you will fall down, but someone will be there to pick you up. Don't worry about it. Fall if you need to. Scream if you need to. Pray if you need to. But just keep breathing.
When you visit the funeral home to make arrangements, lean on those next to you. Don't go alone and don't be afraid to go slow. I had to. Your thoughts will be sporadic so it will help to have family there. It's going to be ridiculously difficult to choose your spouse's final resting place. I mean, no wife or husband should have to choose a casket for the love of your life. Don't go crazy expensive. What's the point? Your spouse cares not what he or she goes into. You will know when the right one appears: Mike's was an old barnwood casket with an image of a hayfield embroideried on the inside. It was him. You'll know. And when you know, it will bring you to your knees because it is real. But just keep breathing. And say a prayer for strength.
When you sleep, and in the beginning sleep will not come without medication, you will have dreams. Some will be of sweet memories, some of being with him again and they will seem so real, and some will be the reality of how he died; all will be heart breaking and gut wrenching. You will awaken with tears streaming down your face. Your hands will again shake uncontrollably and you'll hyperventilate. Take your time and get your breath back. Just hang on tight, my dear wister. It all takes time...and breathing...and praying.
The first morning after will be the strangest morning of your life. The old habits that the two of you shared will be hard to break. You'll roll over to see him laying there but there will only be an empty space that seems to stretch a mile. Your heart will break into a million pieces all over again. It's going to do that for a long, long time my wister. And I'm so sorry.
You'll rise to an empty and silent room, and will literally have to relive the day you lost him. You will have to reaccept your new reality every single day for a long long time. You're going to need help. It's going to make you angry that you need help, but do not let your anger or pride get in your way. Accept the help. It just shows how much you're loved.
If you have children, know that they will probably be stronger than you in the beginning. You will have so many friends and family around that you won't have to worry if your children are being fed or played with. They are. They are distracted for the first while. Children are resilient, but let me tell you, in the beginning their strength will surprise you but it is only because they are in shock. Grief will grab hold of your children sooner or later and it will kill a piece of you. But hold them tightly, take them to counseling, enlist their school counselor to help, and if need be ask your doctor about a mild anti-depressant. It took me a long while to move past the stigma of my son being on Prozac, but if it is what he needs to help him fight the suffering, then we will do it as long as necessary. We are grown people. We can mask much of our pain and suffering; we can grit our teeth, clench our jaw, scream every cuss word ever invented, get up, shower, and slap a sickeningly fake smile on our faces. Our beautiful, innocent children who have been robbed of one of their parents haven't mastered the art of faking it yet. Just hold on tight. Keep breathing and pray hard for strength.
After the dust has settled, the funeral had passed, and the people are gone, is when things get real. Ugly, scary, messy, and so much more. But unfortunately you're not the first and you won't be the last.
There is a whole community of us, my dear wister. We are in every town and city. We are in every school district and mall. We cover the walls of Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram. We blog to get both the ugliness and hope out. Lean on us. Make connections. Read, listen, write, and speak. Speak your pain and your truth in the struggle to survive widowhood. Tell your story so that some other unsuspecting person can know that when it happens to him or her, it is totally normal to have all the roller coaster emotions and thoughts.
You're not going to go crazy.
You're not going to die.
Your children will grow into strong adults.
You will forge new paths and will come out the other side much wiser than you ever imagined.
You will learn to not plan long-term and that is actually a gift. Do what makes you happy when it makes you happy!
If work sucks, then quit! Get a different job.
You will learn to live for the moment with your family and friends.
You will call them more, text more, visit more, and never part without saying "I love you".
You will break down into uncontrollable sobs at the most inconvenient times, but who cares? NOBODY.
You will lose weight in the beginning but eventually your appetite will return.
You will be so incredibly tired that you can't muster the energy to exercise (unless you already had that habit fully developed).
You will hear new meanings in certain songs.
You will find there are some songs you can no longer listen to, or movies you can no longer watch.
But then you will find new music and new movies.
You will laugh again. And I mean that true side-splitting laugh. I know it seems impossible but I promise, you will.
You will live again my sweet wister. It will take a long time; it will be a very difficult struggle.
You will fall down many times, but keep praying even when you are angry.
Keep praying even when you think you don't deserve anything good because of all the cussing you've done.
Keep praying for strength--He won't disappoint.
I can say that I love you because I do. I love you because we are sisters even though we never waned to be. I'll help love you through this hell if you need me to; we all will.
Just keep breathing.
And pray for strength.
Much love and prayers,
Your wister,
Veronica
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