There are no comparisons when it comes to grief

Comparisons can be a dangerous trap to fall into at the best of times. Comparing my grief to the grief of other widows always leads to the worst of times. 

I’m not proud of the fact I’ve done this. I don’t know why I’ve done this. Grief is an individual journey; one where the milestones or benchmarks in healing are determined by the individual travelling it. I know all of this. And know where I am in my healing journey. I’m confident in my progress. But, fuck it, I hear or read about someone else’s journey and wonder if I’m doing this widowhood thing right.

Often what spirals me into this thinking pattern is when I read about how bereft some people are by the loss of part of their heart. I miss My Favourite Husband (MFH) as well. We were together for 27 years — almost half my life — so how can I not miss him? 

For the months immediately following his death, I was lost. Broken. My heart was beaten to a pulp and I wasn’t sure if my life had meaning without him. All the dreams we had and all the plans we’d made were gone in the blink of an eye. 

Nothing made sense and nothing mattered. I truly didn’t care what happened to me or anything else in my world. Why should I? My world ended.

I’ve always been a person who has tried to live in the light. Sunshine is where I thrive. Sunshine makes me a better person. But after his death, I dwelled in the dark. I craved the shadows. My dark was where my pain could always be sharp and raw. Darkness had no expectations of me. I didn’t have to move forward in the dark. I could curl up and just exist.

But the light is part of who I am and the light always finds its way to me. The light propels me forward. My light heals. And so I began my healing journey in earnest; not to forget my past but to blend it with my future.

This moving forward has caused some people to wonder if I’ve “moved on” from MFH. It’s caused them to question my love for him if I’m “getting over him so quickly.” And this has caused me to wonder if I’m moving quickly in my journey. It causes me to question my love for him. Was it deep enough? Strong enough? Was my marriage what I thought it was if I was no longer shattered into slivers? Should I be building a life without him? Or should I still be living in the dark? 

When these thoughts take over, it sets me on edge. I stumble and fight to regain my balance. I have to remind myself repeatedly that the thoughts that are expressed by others I’ve also thought and their feelings I’ve also felt in my early grief. Yes, I’ve loved deep enough, hard enough and I still do — but that love has expanded to include another person: me. That love is softer and its edges are smoother. I’ve worked hard to gain the perspective that I have and I love that I’m laughing and living 15 months into my journey.

So instead of comparing sorrows, I’m working on supporting in the only way I know: offering words of comfort, not advice, and being available if anyone wants to connect. I own no one’s grief but my own but I can understand the thoughts and feelings that go along with loss.

What I’m working on comparing now is my own progress. Accepting that I want to heal and that, while life can be different, life can still be beautiful.

❤️