This is something I posted on February 10th on my other blog :

For those of you who are part of the club, I’m sorry. So very, incredibly, knowingly sorry. For the uninitiated, please bear with me. This is a club I would rather you didn’t join, but unfortunately at some point, some of you will be with us. Sometimes what I am thinking must flow to this blog, and since I can’t talk today (laryngitis), I must blog.

This isn’t a list of how every person responds to grief. Everyone responds differently. I imagine that at some point, every widow or widower has experienced something on this list. And because my grief is relatively new (May 17, 2009), there are some things that I will probably miss. For wiser insight than mine, there is a website I would refer you to called The Widow Connection. Meanwhile, here’s what I’m going through. This is truly personal. I hope it is helpful. *whew* Here goes:

1. Shock. Whether you know well in advance that your spouse is going to die, or it happens for no apparent reason whatever, you experience tremendous shock. Reason? Your life has suddenly and unalterably changed. This was not a choice of yours, but an act of God who knows all, sees all, and loves all. It didn’t feel like love when I got the news and saw the lifeless form of the man I loved with all my heart, but I knew that God loved me more than I could ever imagine. He was my husband, now. What that meant – a husband without “skin on him” – I am still discovering. I am also still experiencing some measure of shock.

2. Pain. If you can be with your loved one at the point of death, it is a sobering moment (our whole family was with my dad when he died). I was helping to lead worship when Kevin met Jesus face to face, so I have no idea what it is like to hold your love as their physical life ebbs away. I could only hold what was left. I have never experienced such excruciating pain in my life. Nothing I could do could bring him back. It was unbelievable. I have no words to describe what those moments were. I was in so much pain, I was angry – not at God, not at Kevin. Just… angry. Pastor Greg reminded me in that moment that death is an enemy and it was proper experience anger at what angers God. He usually knows what to say without being mushy. He is a rare gem, and his wife knows exactly how to make him shine. I like to think Kevin and I were that way.

3. Empathy. Instant empathy. Suddenly every death means something very different. Michael Jackson died shortly after my husband, as did Senator Ted Kennedy (from the same type of brain tumor). I was surprised at how real my grief was for people I’d never met – even regular, non-celebrities’ families had my extreme empathy. I suddenly understood what it meant to lose someone so much a part of who you are, and I can’t help but grieve intensely when I hear of someone’s death. It has caused me to pray and send cards more often than I ever did.

4. Numbness. Adrenaline kept me going for a long time – a few months. I was pretty numb. I wondered if I was inhuman because I wasn’t sobbing everyday or unable to pay the bills or get my son to his day camp or comfort my daughter or play with my grandchildren or… Life just continued as if nothing unusual happened. It confused me. I hated it.

5. Self-loss. What I mean by that is I no longer have a true sense of identity beyond my identity in Christ. I know that I am a child of God, a Warrior Princess in the Kingdom of my God, but I don’t know who Maria is or where she belongs. I have not been to an Adult Bible Fellowship class (which meets during the Sunday School hour) since Kevin died. I don’t know where to go. Too many couples, too many young singles, too many old widows/widowers. I feel as if I don’t belong anywhere, so I prepare myself for worship alone in the sanctuary. Kevin used to lead a class of Twenty-somethings until he was unable to keep up with teaching. I always sat under his teaching. I miss it. He was the best teacher of God’s Word I ever had (with very few and notable exceptions). I was Kevin’s wife. We were one. We did everything together. We loved being together. Now I am alone. More alone than when I was single. Kevin would have guided me through the confusion of who I am. Now I am on my own.

6. Loss of Relationships. This is something that Miriam Neff talks about in her book “From One Widow to Another” (I highly recommend that book). I find that I have either lost connections with people I never thought I would lose, or my relationships with people have dramatically changed. I don’t know who my authority is. My pastor is next in line as my authority, but he is not my husband. I cannot relate to him as such (obviously!), and he is not responsible for my day-to-day well-being, having his own wife, family,and an entire congregation of people to shepherd. I am on my own. My daughter, wise beyond her years, has her own husband and 3 little ones. We share our grief, but she is still my daughter. There is pain I would rather she and my son did not have to face in me because I still have a motherly instinct to protect them. My mother has her own grief, and is suffering her own depression as an 83 year-old woman who has lost her husband and all 13 of her brothers and sisters. I have a need to protect her from my pain as well. So in my home, I am alone and somewhat disconnected. I have never been lonely with myself until now. I have a few friends I can count on one hand with whom I can comfortably share my raw emotions – actually, I have 3. That is probably more than some widows have, so I am blessed. Still, I feel a great sense of loss. There are a few divorced friends of mine , but no one my age who is widowed. It is very different. Painful separation in both cases, yes, but extremely different. Most of my friends are married, so things like Valentine’s day and anniversaries bring a pang to my heart that, frankly, really sucks. I have a few guy friends who are gay that have offered to be my “date” when theatrical events or get-togethers come around. I’m thankful for them. Any other male by my side would just be… weird.

7. Head of House Hassles. I don’t want to even discuss it. Most of my house is in order now, but it was a pain in the place-where-I-sit to get my affairs to this point.

8. Raw Grief. At odd moments for no reason at all. I have pulled off the road, I have sunk to the floor in the hallway at church (only a friend and my pastor & his wife were there for the most part, but it was pretty embarrassing and ridiculous to me anyway). I have become suddenly morose in the middle of hilarious conversation. I have also laughed hysterically during inappropriate moments. I have cried in the grocery store, cried in class, cried during worship, cried listening to the Beatles, cried while cuddling with my 13 year-old-son who loved cuddling with his daddy… most of the time, the grief is so strong I can’t even cry. I wish I could. I just have this sick feeling in the pit of my stomach that only death could remove. Something tells me this kind of grief will never go away. Speaking of death…

9. Death Thoughts. Yes, I’ve had a few. There is one more reason for me to long for the day I meet Jesus face to face. His is the first face I want to see – Kevin’s is the next. Simply being alive when the other half of me is gone is horrendously agonizing. No, I am not suicidal, and I don’t just mean thoughts of physical death, either. Moses said in Deuteronomy 30:19 “This day I call heaven and earth as witnesses against you that I have set before you life and death, blessings and curses. Now choose life, so that you and your children may live…” There are thoughts and choices that lead to death and curses and not-so-nice consequences: i.e. sin. There are thoughts and choices that lead to life and blessings. My tendency has always been to wander down the death-thought path. It has taken me years of renewing my mind through the word of God and Kevin’s patient encouragement to train myself to “choose life” – now I feel as though all that training has never even existed. BUT – the training is there nevertheless, and the Holy Spirit uses that training to get me back on track. But, oh my sainted aunt, is it ever hard to do when my will is so weakened by emotional trauma and grief!

10. Life Thoughts. I am alive. Life is a gift. Life is beautiful. Life goes on. Life is painful. Bette Davis once said, “Old age is not for sissies.” Neither is widowhood, my friend. Earth continues to orbit the sun as it has done since the day God created it, and all of us move right along with her. The snow will not stop falling because I am grieving. My mother will not get to physical therapy by my weeping and wailing – I need to get her in the car and take her there. The school will not close because I am too depressed to get out of bed – my son must get to school and I must take him. The church will not stop storming the gates of hell because one warrior is down – storm it we will, and I’ll be damned (excuse my language but I feel very strongly about this) if I miss out on blasting the gates of hell. Damn death and Satan to hell. I am more than a conqueror in Christ Jesus. Kevin finished his race extremely well – I am so proud of my Bud. I hope I do the same. Meanwhile, although I don’t know exactly who Maria is, fully, I know that I am a Warrior Princess. Warriors don’t stop fighting. Princesses don’t forget their place before their fathers. That is me. That is who I am. That is a club I invite you to join.

And here ends the musing of the day.

Just wishing everyone a very happy 2010. I hope to do the following:

* grow in my relationship with God
* finish my BA
* get my home organized
* streamline my life (which includes spending less time online)
* improve my health

Any resolutions from the Xanga community?