Daryl Wood's Blog

I so didn’t want my life to be so much about grief. I worked hard yesterday at grounding myself and being intentional about what I was doing. I focused on positive and hopeful thoughts and actions. I accomplished things and meditated and journalled and did Heart Math exercises. I reviewed my book club reading (The Wild Edge of Sorrow) so it would be fresh for my Friday call. I followed up on the commitments I made for spiritual practice and study with a mentor/friend.

When the grief waves began, I rode my ebike. And I rode again. And then again. And again. It took me away from the reminders of my Doug that are in every corner of my home. It took me away from the happy families enjoying the lake around me. It took me away from the tasks of maintaining a property I love so much and struggle to keep up. It took me away from having to make decisions and finding ways to fill the emptiness.

But it couldn’t take me away from the aching loneliness. I woke up at 3 a.m. crying and not being able to stop. It was how we sometimes intertwined our fingers before we fell asleep. I couldn’t stop my fingers from pulling at each other to find the feel of his big hands. I couldn’t understand how he could still be gone these 21 months later. I strained to hear his slippers coming down the hall or the sound of his breathing beside me.

And it was hearing about friends’ excitement for their anniversary cruise. It was not knowing who to ask for help with things he would have done so easily. It was missing dinner again because eating was so hard around Doug when he couldn’t eat. It was talking to one of his best buddies and him asking for some small item of Doug’s to keep close as a memento of their friendship. It was being fearful of the stretches of time coming up when no one will be visiting and I will ache for companionship. It was trying to keep my mind from spinning through the difficult conversations with people I love over the last two weeks.

And it was knowing that this is what my life will look like. These moments are temporary and there are lovely times of connecting and laughter and resilience. Two grocery store staff giving me sincere, unsolicited hugs. A friend offering to build a planter box I need. The thoughtful invitation from a friend and an encouraging email from another. I am grateful over and over again every day for my home and community and support people. Balancing between these joyful interactions and the devastating dips is so very hard. And it’s getting harder and harder to know who can handle these crushing moments when it seems like the whole world is suffering.

I didn’t want my life to be so much about grief. But we don’t get to choose. This is what I got. And all the training I’ve done as a Retreat Facilitator, Life Coach and 3VQ/TED* Practitioner could be so helpful in pulling me through this darkness. Some say I should ‘walk my talk’. Sometimes I do and it brings comfort and healing to myself and others. And I, like all the other widows crying in the night, know it’s pretty academic until it is your own heart that is breaking and you wake up crying at 3 a.m.