Grief causes different responses for all of us. Following Ursula’s passing, I dreamed we were in a city socializing with people as we laughed, sang, and cheered. Smiles and hugs were all around. It felt like Times Square on New Year’s Eve. It was great. But that scene would quickly change. Ursula was gone and the same crowd was now cheering my departure. This sounds crazy; it’s funny now, but it’s all true: I was bound, gagged, and placed on this large catapult as that same crowd cheered on. The catapult launched, and I flew through the air (without a cape, of course!) I eventually landed on a barren wasteland miles away from the city. The impact was so great it broke the straps that bound me, as I rolled along the gravel. Dark, dirty, and alone, I looked around and saw only the glow of the city lights I once belonged to. What catapulted me into this moment: the loss of my spouse.
The response of others to losing a spouse can make you feel like you have a contagious disease, you’re not normal, and you need to be banished to the Island of Misfit Toys. Some will come along and walk with you in support, while others will avoid you because you remind them of what they lost. Others will just go away, never to be seen or heard from again. It will come from both family and friends alike. Grief is the elephant in the room that no one wants to talk about, but a reality we will all have to face. After Ursula’s passing and after speaking with people, I found myself saying, “But I’m still here!” “I’m still alive; I haven’t gone anywhere!” Grief is a harsh reminder that will come knocking, and you will be forced to answer.
