“You’re looking well!”, “You’re doing so great!”,“I’m so proud of you!”

“And the Oscar goes to the widow with her eyebrows done!”

Yes I do have some good moments and most of you have seen me in the upward climb of the rollercoaster. Few of you have seen, heard, or been on the receiving end of the call when the rollercoaster rushes down, gets stuck or just stops working altogether.

Of course you all know I cry, everyone expects me to, but it looks nothing like a pretty cry. My mascara runs, my face mimics Kim K’s ugly cry, tears stream down my face creating decorative grief lines in my foundation. I look like a tan zebra.

No, I’m not doing well. I’m doing what I have to do because I like to eat food. I need to pay my bills which keep coming every month for some crazy reason. Don’t those companies know that I’ve forgotten weeks of my life as if they never existed. In fact a few days ago I thought April was just last month; and I’m supposed to be responsible for big decisions, sign papers and important documents. Sigh.

Sigh.

It’s all an act. I. Am. Not. Fine. But that’s ok, I’m not supposed to be.

Try telling that to whichever part of my schizophrenic grief identity thinks I should be fine by now. Get over it, rip the band-aid off already. Can all the grief just hit me at once so I don’t have to feel this anymore? I hate it. Go away grief, I didn’t plan for this. I should have read books. People should have given us books on what to expect when your spouse dies along with the books titled “how to have a happy marriage” “loving your spouse” “for better or for worse, and till death parts us!”

Death, it’s an ugly word. An ugly word that all of us will unfortunately experience at some point(s) in our lives.

No one tells you that losing the love of your life will make you do crazy things like go out and spend ridiculous amounts of money on a new wardrobe, fill your house with things you don’t need, buy a new car, sell/give away all your stuff, cling to anyone who shows you even the slightest amount of love because no one will ever love you that way again so you might as well just settle for this man/woman because being alone is worse, or is it?

How am I doing? Awful. I hate that this is my new reality. I hate that I sometimes forget he is dead. I still want to call him and then reality hits me, I can’t call him again. Never again will I hear his voice say “hello sweetheart”. Never again will he hold me, kiss my forehead, or share any intimate moments with me. Never again will I make his coffee for him, never again will I blow a raspberry on his stomach. No more late night chats about nothing in particular. No more songs made up on car rides. Even our secret language is now extinct, because no one else knows those invented words or their meaning. Never again him, never again us.

Awful. I hate that this is my new reality. I hate that I sometimes forget he is dead. I still want to call him and then reality hits me, I can’t call him again. Never again will I hear his voice say “hello sweetheart”. Never again will he hold me, kiss my forehead, or share any intimate moments with me. Never again will I make his coffee for him, never again will I blow a raspberry on his stomach. No more late night chats about nothing in particular. No more songs made up on car rides. Even our secret language is now extinct, because no one else knows those invented words or their meaning. Never again him, never again us.

So no, I’m not doing great. God is doing great things in me and with me despite this strange hand life has dealt me. He is my rock and my deliverer.

Eventually, eventually, eventually I will be doing great, and even then, grief will be part of me. It is now a part of my identity and I have to learn to live with her and love her, because she also loves and she also lost.

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