It has now been almost six months since my wife of 48 years died of a brain tumor. The first four months were total hell for me because not only was her passing in my mind 100% of the time, but it continued to present what felt like rolling waves of grief that would take over my body, constricting my chest and throat, making my mouth feel sour and forcing torrents of tears at totally unexpected times. Not only that, but I was unable to focus on much of anything, feeling like I was just drifting in space without direction or even the desire for one. Perhaps the term “spacey” fits this period of time.

About two months ago I started noticing that the rolling waves of uncontrollable grief were starting to subside, getting further between and not quite so overwhelming when they came. I started getting a little interest back into my life, thinking about the future, wondering where I am now headed as a “new” me, and thinking about what (if anything) I “should” be doing with my life. I was slowly slipping back into a feeling of “normal” – as normal as I could without my long term lover and friend to help guide me.

Lately I have become fairly “clear headed”, seldom crashing into the waves of grief, and almost feeling normal – except for the continual physical feeling of heart break in my chest and body- My mind seems to be recovering faster than my body, it just does not feel good, or healed, yet. However, I have started to feel confident enough in my stability to start doing some things intended for the future. For months is felt like I had no future, and I just didn’t care about that. My life and future had no meaning or importance to me. Lately that has started to change, in fact I was almost thinking that I was past the worst of it.

I thought that until I encountered a lady friend of the family at the hardware store the other day. This friend took care of my wife’s mother for the last couple of years of toward the end of my wife’s mother’s life and therefore was known to me, but more like an acquaintance than a good friend, friendly but not really a friend. In fact, we have had zero encounters at a personal level. After my wife’s mother died, this friend got a job working as a clerk at one of the local hardware stores, so I saw her periodically and exchanged pleasantries while transacting business.

Last Thursday I went to the hardware store to purchase a small box of screws, expecting a normal brief exchange along the lines of “hi, how are you?” As I was leaving she said, “Tell Mary Jo (my wife) hi.” That stopped me in my tracks, I had assumed that she was aware that my wife had died. So I turned to her, saying “You must not know that she died.” That stopped the world! The shock exploded in her face, obviously this was a BIG crash to her. As first I was surprised, I hadn’t thought that there were any “personal” feelings between them – but that was obviously not true. There were clearly a LOT of personal feelings, they had just been hidden by social conventions. At that moment of seeing her shock instant deep grief hit me like a tornado. I felt like somehow I had exploded, and not in a good way. Tears flooded from both of our eyes, neither of us could talk, she came from behind the counter and hugged me. We just stood and hugged a deep, slow, hug of humanity – not being able to do anything but hold on, slowly swaying back and forth, while sobs and tears reigned supreme. I was vaguely aware that we were standing in the middle of the checkout isle in the middle of a hardware store, with people waiting behind us in line – but I didn’t care and apparently she didn’t either. Something much more important was happening.

This didn’t last long, we both quickly separated and I staggered out of the store, unable to say anything or think straight. Once I got back to my car I had to sit for several minutes waiting for my composure to return so that I could once again drive, or even remember that I was doing something.

So… obviously there are still HUGE emotions lying just under the surface of my grief. This must be the constant feeling of discomfort I feel in my body, my chest and my mind. It reminds me a bit of our planet earth – cool and pleasant on the outside, but just an onion skin below the surface is a seething ball of molten lava and iron. Now and then a volcano bursts through to remind us that we are living on a ball of fire – my life feels a bit like that, and it broke through the other day.

I consider this to be a good thing – I was being surprised that I could “heal” so quickly, obviously I haven’t. That is a relief. I have just found ways to get along with my life, but the pain and energy are all still right there. I feel it constantly, but usually not quite so violently. I use my memories and that energy to help me find direction and meaning in my new, very much lonelier, life.