Grief ≠ Grief
There are no two lives the exact same. Everyone has there own unique paths that not only form the person they are, but mold the types of relationships they have with those around them. Every experience, environment, acquaintance and so on adds to the complex code of who you become, who is in your life and how you handle things. That being said, there are NO two journeys through grief that are going to be the same. Similar, yes, but each heart shatters in it’s own special way.
Parents have a common way of describing parenthood to non-parents- it’s a love that you can only understand when you become a parent yourself. I remember rolling my eyes at that thinking I understood it. That was, until I laid eyes on my firstborn and it suddenly all made sense. I know many people have had that same epiphany. Before having kids you compare the love you have for your family or even pets to the love you would have for your child. However the moment you become a parent you understand. That doesn’t mean you love your family/pets any less, it’s just a different type of love.
Losing a spouse is another (evil) form of an indescribable feeling. The pain felt when you become a widow is a pain so unique that I believe you can only understand it if you have went through it. That doesn’t mean that other forms of pain or grief aren’t valid, it just means it’s a completely different kind of grief. And while this type of grief is unique within itself, every widow is going to have their own unique experience as well. I have had the misfortune of grieving too many other family members that have passed. The pain and grief I felt with each one was similar in ways, but the process of each loss was still unique. One thing is certain though, the experience of losing them was so vastly different with what I’m going through losing my husband.
I think it’s human nature to try and relate to those around you , especially when they are going through something, whether it be happy or sad. That being said, being told that someone knows “exactly” what I am going through makes me a little crazy. No one knows exactly, because no one knew the scope of our relationship except for us. No one knows exactly, because they won’t ever know what goes on in my head. To have my grief related to someone else’s experience and in the same breath be encouraged to move on and be happy again only shows that they truly have no idea the scope of the grief that I bare.
If they knew exactly, then they would know that I’m smiling more because I found the more I fake a smile, the less I worry people. If they knew exactly, then they would see I will never be the happy person I was before, the soul of that Mandy left with Sam. If they knew exactly, they would see that everyday I still feel like I am dying from the pain and it’s in no way gotten any easier. It’s hard not to take offense of the expectations of my ability to be happy and “have fun” even though I know that it is said out of nothing but love and encouragement. However, I realized the other day that it is MY expectations of people being able to understand my struggle and abilities is what needed to be adjusted. How could I expect people to understand that my grief (like everyone else’s) is unique just as my abilities/lack of abilities are? I tend to be one that doesn’t like to share my thoughts and the less I share, the less people will understand. I’m working on it, and this blog has been a helpful tool in organizing the chaos of my brain.
All that being said, and I am going to say this LOUDLY on behalf of I’m sure most widows: For any non-widow reading this… STOP. Stop comparing losing a spouse to things like losing a dog or a friend’s divorce, or losing an uncle/cousin/grandparent/whatever other non-immediately family member and any other comparison. Those things are terrible and my heart hurts for anyone going through it, but we are not the same. We are not the same; a sentence I say daily in my head while trying to offer comfort to those that are sharing their own grief that they believe is exactly as mine. I still hurt for you and my empathetic self would do almost anything to take your pain away. But… we aren’t the same. And as silly as this sounds, I hope with all my heart that you roll your eyes and that you never, ever understand what I mean by that.