Death comes to me and you—it’s built into life

April 29th, two days from today, 2022, is the first anniversary of my husband’s (Cal) death. It seems a grieving update is in order. Please remember everyone’s experience and healing after loss is individual. My process is no more correct or messed-up than yours—every path of grief has a story, and this is mine. May it help yours.

As minute details of Cal’s cancer and death float in and out of my mind, the two grief stages of denial and bargaining were over when I watched the monitors flatline under the intense lights. One of the staff said, “There is nothing more we can do,” left the room, and pulled the curtain closed. There was no denial and no need to bargain.

There are a million memories from our years together, and it’s a blessing and indeed a miracle that the majority of negative happenings surrounding his illness fall behind the beautiful times and close connections. The good memories become vivid and sweeter while the worry, sadness, and fear we shared are far from erased but becoming cloudy.

I have felt anger and depression after his death, but it had little to do with losing Cal because I am, and was, thankful for our time together and the end of his suffering. I know not to deny or be afraid of anger or depressive moments and forgive myself when they bubble over unexpectedly. Grieving is not possible without these two emotions.

After his death, the many losses reminded me of the falling dominos, one triggering the next. It’s been hard. In the last couple of months, I have noticed taking better care of myself is beginning to replace my purpose of caring for him.

Without him, I am learning to go more places with friends or myself. If I wake up every day and say, “Today is going to be a great day because I said it would,” it helps. I know my feelings start and end with me, so I work at letting his memories fill me up instead of breaking me down. I count my blessings for the time I had him.

After a year, I’m better. The cliché, “Time heals all things,” is true in my experience—if I let it. I feel less alone, sleep better, experience heartache less often, and can see possibilities. I’m not stuck. I feel myself, even if momentarily, in the release stage of the grief cycle. Thank you, God.

Death comes to me and you—it’s built into life. As I get older, I have more friends and family dying. I don’t like it one bit, but it happens anyway. The five stages of grief, Denial, Bargaining, Anger, Depression, and finally, Release, have helped me understand why I feel and act the way I do. They permit me to like myself despite myself and to look forward.

Until the next time: Live while you live.