Years ago, my (then) husband suffered a devastating aneurysm. He was young, healthy and vibrant; I loved him tremendously. One afternoon, we were pursuing our dreams and celebrating our five-year-old daughter, the next I was standing in intensive care, praying he would live until tomorrow. When he finally emerged from a coma, his memory and our life together, were gone. It was soul-ripping.
My friends and family, in an effort to help, lavished me with condolences and words of encouragement. They sent me books on grief recovery and desperately tried to hold my head above the waters of despair. Nothing helped, I wanted to die.
In my search for solace, I found a tiny book with a bit of wisdom so powerful I knew it was true (I’ve since passed the book on and can’t remember what it was called or who wrote it). In sum, it said:
The one thing you can count on is change.
All things change, including feelings.
You will not always feel the way you do today.
This I could believe. I wrote these words on a piece of my daughter’s Hello Kitty paper and stuck it to my bathroom door. The bathroom was the one place I could grieve freely and I did, a lot.
When the tears ceased, I always found myself staring at the paper and knowing that the blackness could not be eternal. It didn’t change my feelings, but it gave me hope.
For my beloved friends who are suffering and believing the sun will never shine again, it will. It must.
~ Cynthia
Once again you are at the center of life.Three months ago my wife was diagnosed with a brain tumor. The shock was so huge I felt like crying for five days — well, maybe I did cry inside. Then everything lifted when she woke up after surgery. I realize that we are very fortunate. There are so many ways this could have been worse. Right now she is okay and making progress toward recovery.And yes, it's true, the sun always rises.I applaude your honest articles. I hope you're collecting them for a book.
Oh Steve that's huge. I am so grateful and heartened to hear that your wife is on the mend. My experience in the neurological unit was extraordinarily difficult. I feel better each time I hear that someone is making it through. My heart goes out to you for what you've been through and the long road this type of recovery takes. Be sure to take care of yourself, too. I am revising my book now, but I really treasure this sweet time of community with nothing to sell. There is so much love here.BLESS YOU AND YOUR WIFE,Cynthia
Incredible stories of both of you. Hard breaking ! I have no other words. I wish both of you lots of strength and wisdom.
I've always counted on changes in my life, but I hadn't thought about changes in my feelings. Even these need to change with time. Thank you.And hugs to you and your wife, Steve. I'm so glad she's healing.
This is very moving. I just recently mentioned to a friend, who was feeling hopeless and lost, that everything is temporary, nothing is forever. Thank you for this touching message.
You are a gift to all of us fortunate to stumble across your blog.
I know that feeling, when just for you, the world suddenly comes to a crashing halt, the wind is crushed out of you, gasping for air and answers, yet in a Daliesque way the outside world goes on. Aching to dive right into death following the one you love, but another love and responsibility forces you to stay with your daughter, and find your way without him.The feelings took a long time to change, but they do.
Vakantiehuizen Engeland, Deb Salisbury, Kenya & Tony:Thank you for commenting. In the whir of life, we all think we are so different, but in the stillness we are so alike. I draw tremendous strength and hope from that.Cynthia
Julie Anne Rhodes:Beautifully put. You truly understand.Cynthia
Not sure I can comprehend the level of courage necessary to survive, let alone surmount, such a catastrophic event. My heart simply aches for that younger you. I admire your strength and your kindness, both of which are evident in your words. I'm so glad I followed Tony's link.
I am a 23 disabled womenWho just lost her mommy/caretaker to a aneurysm 5 weeks ago
Wcharles:My heart is heavy for you. There is nothing I can say to lighten the anguish. Nothing about this is easy and in this moment there is no bright side. I'm so sorry. I'm holding you in my heart, sending you love and healing. Please send me a direct message through the link above, if you need an ear. Bless you,Cynthia
For all those who have commented here, or will do so in the future, for Cynthia for sharing and opening the dialog, for myself along with my husband, who is coming through a more than two year health crisis, change is truly the only constant. To honor where you are, whether it be the depth of grief, or anger, or joy is the only way through. Blessing and love to us all… xxx
Hi Cynthia,
The most devastating time of my life was when my beloved partner of 14 years died. We were living in Cyprus when my father suddenly died. I had to return to the UK for his funeral. I was already in a state of deep distress, and worried about my partner Tom as he was not well. While I was in the UK, he died suddenly. I later found out that he had lung cancer. HIs family didn't even notify me of his death or of the funeral, as they had never accepted me. So on the day I found out about Tom's death, he'd just been buried! There followed a return to Cyprus, and total hostility from his family, which I realised later was solely about Tom's estate. I have never known such emotional agony – I was still reeling from my father's death, and couldn't believe that Tom had died too. I had so much to sort out, which meant I had to keep going, but when I returned to the UK I suffered a total breakdown and had 5 years of counselling and psychiatric care. I had to face such dark places, places I never knew existed. (And discovered I had no entitlement to any of Tom's estate, so was also fighting financial problems!) I wanted to die.
But from it all I can say I emerged stronger and with a totally different perspective on life. I hated it when well-meaning people said, 'You'll get over it.' as if Tom was merely an interlude. What helped me in the end was the realisation that you don't 'get over' someone, the love carries on and is never erased. He becomes an eternal part of the flow of your life. You take the love you had for him and use it to create a new life that he would have been proud of. I learned that life moving on, and change, though it doesn't seem so at the time, is a positive thing too. You find a new, different way to live, and it isn't a betrayal of the loved one to learn to laugh again. It affirms life, and honours the person you lost.
My advice to anyone grieving is to take care of yourself, allow yourself time to grieve, and try to believe that, though it doesn't seem so at the time, you will be able to laugh again one day. You will survive.
Hi Fiona:
At the time, didn’t it seem completely impossible to even imagine laughing again? You are a warrioress and I applaud your strength and resilience. You are the kind of person I like to know.
Bless you,
Cynthia
Cynthia, it seems as though when I am feeling at my lowest and feeling like I just can't take anymore…I read something from you and it ALWAYS gives me hope! Feeling like any day…the light will begin to shine. Though I will never be happy about losing my little man…I now know that letting go does not have to mean forgetting! I am merely letting go of the pain, the guilt and the self destructive mental abuse that I have carried for so many years. Feeling like that was my way of proving to myself and to him… that I do love him and that I do miss him. Never realizing that by living my life this way was not honoring his sweet little memory. I am now able to look at his loss in a different light. I am slowly learning to let go of the pain and allowing myself to heal. I am now going to be able to honor Adrian in a more loving and healthy manner. At the same never forgetting how truly blessed I am to be his mommy and how truly blessed I am to have had him for the 4 and a half years that I did. Thank you for all of your encouraging and thought provoking articles…they have made a HUGE DIFFERENCE in my life! I hope that you know that because of you so many people are being blessed every day…including me!
Debi – You are and have been nothing less than an honor to know.
Timely. ♥
Grief, loss and letting go. I don’t think I can ever do the latter…. Because I don’t really want to. I have relentless love I do not want to let go. I have tremendous memories I don’t want to lose. I have reminders daily of happiness I make part of my life. Love and remembrance… Can we ask for more? Replacement? I’ve had the very best. Grateful for that? You bet. Thanks, Cynthia…my heart to yours.
Elizabeth, I don’t think we ever need to let the love and memories go, just the pain and sadness. Yes. More.