Oceanic Breathing

I often describe grief as an ocean. There are many reasons I find this a very fitting description. At first, I was in the middle of a hurricane and couldn’t see the end.  I was constantly tossed about floating on driftwood and feeling like I was drowning.  The days were rough as I struggled to focus on a simple task. I put on my mask in front of others and broke down in the bathroom if I couldn’t make it until I left work for the day.  I lived on autopilot and some days didn’t remember how I went from one place to the next. The nights were devastating as I was alone and my dreams haunted me as I relived his passing every single night. I often woke scream for him not to leave me and sobbing in despair as I realized again he was gone. Eventually though, the major storm passed and I emerged from the darkness.

There are still rough seas and minor storms though.  These are the days I know it’s coming, like a birthday or an anniversary.  These days, I am prepared for the tears, but even being prepared, sometimes it passes without a lot of fuss. It has gotten to the point now, where sometimes I will expect a bad day like February 20, the day he died, June 17, our wedding anniversary, or August 28, his birthday, but it hits me a week before or even after instead of the day I think it will. Almost like my mind is tricking myself. Once the Christmas holiday passes, I can sometimes feel myself getting melancholy. The end of January and into February I struggle to this day. Sometimes, I can recognize it and if I work hard enough, I can pull myself out of it. I count myself lucky that in February the year he died, we had so much snow and ice I was forced to stay home for two weeks. It gave me precious time with him. A couple years ago though, the circumstances and weather were so similar to the day he died, I had to get out of the house and get to work even though the roads were bad because I could feel myself sinking into it. If I hadn’t, I wouldn’t have been a functioning human for a couple days. I spiraled harder than I had in years and while I knew it was coming, I wasn’t expecting it to be that bad.

There are also those days I don’t realize how treacherous it really is until the waves are crashing over me, pulling me under, disorienting me with the undertow. By the time I realize it, I am drowning in it, breathing is hard and I don’t know which way is up. These are random days where something catches me off guard and I am not prepared for it. My husband loved orange flavored anything from candies to cakes.  A trip to the grocery store and seeing something orange or a snack cake Larry would have liked has me thinking of him with a smile 90% of the time, but that other 10% I cry when I see it and I never know which way it’s going to affect me even years later. I went to the movie theater and watched a movie pre-covid but still years after he had passed. At the end, I was so excited because Larry was going to love this movie when he watched it. Two seconds later, I was bawling because he would never watch it with me and for that split second I had forgotten.

But there are sunny days too where the waters are calm and happy memories make me smile more than I cry.  I can think of the love he had for our nephews and know without a doubt how proud he is of them all. I remember playing Baldur’s Gate with him as our own special time together. I remember how no matter how many sports games he purchased, he always made sure there was a game I wanted to play too so we could play together. I remember concerts, including the very first concert he ever asked me to go to. He asked me to go to that concert before we even officially started dating. He was that confident in getting me to date him. I remember packing a bag some weekends, picking a direction and a time limit and stopping wherever we ended up for the weekend as a mini vacation. Eventually, these sunny days come more than the storms, but that has taken years to accomplish.

There is no time limit for grief. Some days, I feel like I am strong enough to handle anything, but there are some days that feel like it just happened yesterday and the feelings are fresh and powerful and just as overwhelming as the night I lost him.  Loss is not something to ever really “get over”.  It’s more something I carry with me forever that has altered me fundamentally.  It changed my thinking and makes life’s moments more precious.  It made me stronger for living through it even on my weakest days and believe me, I still have days of weakness.

I proudly wear the scars of my heart.  They show how much I truly loved him.  Without the deep love we shared, the wounds wouldn’t hurt so much, the pain wouldn’t be so profound, but I wouldn’t trade it.  It is truly better to have loved like this and lost than to never have loved. I know that sounds cliché, but I was blessed with the time we shared and the pure and true love he gave me. People who don’t know that kind of love are missing out and I wouldn’t wish that emptiness on anyone. We all need more love in our lives. I carry his love with me still in my heart and in my soul.  I love him to this day and think of him each and every day. I leave you with this, treasure that love in your own life.  Don’t take it for granted. Let your spouse give you that hug and kiss instead of being annoyed because you are doing dishes. Take mom to lunch. Go fishing with dad. Call your brother. Go shopping with your sister. Don’t tune out your children when they are trying to give you something. You never know when today may be the last today you ever have with them and you don’t want to regret how you acted with them.

I share my story these days to anyone who wants to hear it hoping it gives someone else understanding, compassion or hope. I share because if even one person comes through grief a little sooner, it’s worth speaking about mine. If even ONE person changes how they deal with others who are grieving, it’s worth me telling my story of how lost I was. If you’d like to contact me, please feel free to email me at katina@cookson.news or call the office at 918-756-3600. I welcome all comments, questions and suggestions.