Grief Today

Grief feels like nausea. A heaviness in my chest. A desire to ignore the obvious: G is gone.

Grief is too hard to be faced. So I ignore it. I pretend it isn't so.

I'm just like everyone else! My husband didn't die! If I don't mention it, maybe it isn't true?

But it is true. He's gone. I watched his breathing slow until I stopped. I laid my hand on his chest and felt the faint slow heart beat until there was none. I sat on the porch while they removed his body and then kissed him one last time I told him I loved him before they covered his face with the quilt and rolled him away to the hearse.

All of that happened. He hasn't come home. It wasn't a dream - not even a nightmare.

But to face it? Embrace it? Own it? How would I go on?

So I pretend. I avoid. I wait in the car for the neighbor to pass by. I am far too chipper and talk about only light things. I shove down the tears, wall off the grief, I make the right choice, I get dressed for the day.

But it's been harder to ignore. The dates of significance. The one year anniversary of his death coming. The holidays. The pit in my stomach. The weight loss. The exhaustion. I'm wearing more sweatpants and taking less showers.

I don't think I can keep pretending. But how can I face it? If I'm not pretending, will I fall apart?