“What’ll I do?” is all in the upset of grief

Myself and Cal’s sister, Doris, at Cal West Conference Room

Saturday will be two years since my husband died, giving me a good reason to provide you with a grieving update. To summarize, I’m less distressed, but I’m still not through. Being trained in the stages of loss: Denial, Bargaining, Anger, Depression, and Release has helped me track my progress but has not necessarily speeded up recovery.

This week, a song by Irving Berlin, titled “What’ll I do,” felt like my life. The lyrics asked, what’ll I do when you’re far away, when I only have photographs to tell my troubles to, and dreams we planned can’t come true? What’ll I do?

What do you do when you have all day and the freedom to do anything or everything? I’ve always said retirement isn’t what it’s cracked up to be, but add grieving to that story, and if you’re like me, you get long days and longer nights.

I don’t sit around twiddling my thumbs; I have Lucy. I also read, draw, visit friends, travel, eat ice cream, and walk when the weather allows. I even started watching Yellowstone—a long bridge from Hallmark movies.

I don’t sit around crying or sleeping in a fetal position, but I still have no answer to Berlin’s title question. “What’ll I do?” I’m a doer, planner, and get-r-done person, but the grieving process interferes with my innate nature—as is typical and expected.

Because of my career, I’m disappointed in myself even though I know grieving varies for everyone because loss includes individual belief systems. My husband’s illness and death, and experiences after his death, involved three intense years of what I believed couldn’t, wouldn’t, or shouldn’t happen. I can feel like my former self, only to have a smell, word, location, or taste spin me into two extremes–beautiful memories or flaring unfairness. Both come in full-color videos before I consciously shift my thoughts, catch, and release them. I’m much better, but some days still leave me sad or angry.

These two years have reminded me of the following:

• There is no magic timeframe for loss recovery

• I can do the work now or later–but I have to do it

• Appreciating each baby step helps me not get discouraged

• Life isn’t the same, but it’s still good, just in different ways

• Living for today and tomorrow, not yesterday is vital

• Life does go on, and time does heal—but at its pace, not mine

If you’ve experienced a tough loss and haven’t bounced back as you want, adjust your expectations and allow yourself normalcy. “What’ll I do?” will be answered in time—It’s all in the upheaval of grief.

Until the next time: Live while you live.

Jennifer Goble, Ph.D., LPC, is the author of “My Clients…My Teachers,” and the blogger and writer of Rural Women Stories: www.ruralwomenstories.com.