I am going to start this post in a very direct manner…
Grief never ends.
For anyone who believes otherwise, I hope you are never directly impacted by loss in a way that forces you to learn that the hard way. I hope that somehow, this simple sentence resonates with you and is enough to change your mind.
I also want to start off by saying how I always approach my blogs with a large number of us in mind. I think of our families, our friends, and those impacted by Matt’s passing. I acknowledge that this grief is not just my own and Matt’s life is far-reaching. Today, that still holds true.
I haven’t forgotten the details. Matt’s family, my family haven’t forgotten the details. I am confident that his friends haven’t forgotten the details. But just in case the details need reminding…here it is in short. Matt was 33 year when he passed away from an aortic valve problem that showed up unexpectedly and suddenly. He left behind so much. A wife. A wife that was 16 weeks pregnant with their second child. A daughter that wasn’t even 2 yet. He left behind parents who were more friends than parental. A brother, his lifelong friend. Aunts, uncles, cousins. All of his grandparents. Countless friends. A dog. Hobbies. A flourishing career.
We remember the details of getting phone calls that Matt was in the hospital, we remember conversations with the doctors, the sleepless nights, the long hours wondering what the day would bring. We remember who told us that Matt’s survival depended on a miracle. And we remember exactly where we were when we found out he was gone. For some of us, we will never forget watching him pass. We remember wondering how we would ever stop crying. Ever.
Those memories don’t stop on October 15, 2015. There are thousands of painful memories since that day. Many that will spiral us into an anxiety attack and put us right back to rock bottom.
I could go on and on. The point is, he passed much too soon. Too sudden. And trying to absorb the facts in just one sitting is nearly impossible. It takes years, no, it takes a lifetime, to ever grasp the reality of this situation. And even then, until the day I die, I will never make sense of this. I will never say I understand it.
The reason I find this vital to remember is because nothing about losing Matt is normal. I feel as though there is judgment in the way I grieve. I feel as some believe I should “be over it” by now. I feel like people believe I am stuck because I choose to visit him and honor him. I talk about him. I remember him. I don’t cry every single day like I used to but my heart still breaks. I can do things today that I never thought I would be able to do again. Like, get out of bed. I am stronger today because I have had to be. I am finding happiness again. Joy again. The thing about grief that needs to be remembered is that joy, happiness, sadness, honoring, grieving, respecting, can all be done simultaneously. I can be sitting at home sobbing about how broken I am that Matt isn’t here with me while also looking at my beautiful children and being happy that this is my life. It is an exhausting struggle. I am emotionally exhausted all the time because of the constant internal struggle with all these emotions.
I have said this before. If you haven’t seen Coco, I urge you to. It’s a beautiful movie about the importance of talking about our loved ones who have gone before us. The message is about how if we talk about them, pay tribute to them, and remember them, that their memory lives on. That is enough reason right there for me to grieve the way I do. If for no other reason, so his children have a chance to know their dad. To give them the opportunity to know him. So they can see the love between their mom and dad even though it looks different than so many families.
Grief is individual and it’s personal. For me, visiting Matt at the cemetery brings comfort. For others, it is much too hard to face. But just because it’s a certain way for me, doesn’t mean that others have to follow suit. It means they grieve Matt the way they see fit. My beliefs on where Matt is and how he interacts with my life here on Earth are in place for very specific reasons. Not everyone will agree on that. The biggest being that they provide me comfort.
Regardless of what anyone chooses to believe or how they choose to judge me or my family, I can say with confidence that we are handling this in a healthy way. I work tirelessly to make sure I am strong and whole as I can be given this situation. I have religiously attended therapy since 3 weeks after Matt passed away. In over 3 years, my therapist has never once told me that I stuck. In fact, at this point, most of our sessions include discussion about proud she is of me with how I have handled such tragedy. Almost every time I see her, she comments about how much I have overcome-not just losing Matt. There is so much more. I can say with confidence that our families are closer because we all have the same foundation and the same goals in mind. I can say with confidence that we are dealing with this in a healthy way because we are dealing with it. We have acknowledged from very early on that losing Matt, the impact of this loss, will be carried with us for the rest of our lives.
I have been open, honest, transparent, and vulnerable about what it is like to be widowed at 29 years old. I have done this as a therapy for myself, for my kids, as a way to honor Matt, and in hope that it will maybe help someone else who is struggling with darkness in their life. I feel like I have done this in a real way without standing on a soapbox and without preaching at anyone. This is the only time I can remember feeling a fiery passion, even anger, about what is I am writing.
Do not judge my grief.
