I’ve heard of grief compared to losing a limb, and think that’s quite accurate.
After a tremendous loss, you are never really the same again. You are still you. You still exist. You are still the same person with the same name, the same mannerisms and habits as before, but you are not who you used to be.
And, like an amputee, the lost arm or leg will always be there even if just in thought. It never leaves, even though it is no longer physically a part of you. You will always be lacking it, because it was a part of you for so long. It was meant to always be a part of you.
The lost limb is there (or more aptly isn’t there) every second of every day. You forget, sometimes, that it is missing, until you go to do something that you always used to do - took for granted doing and it isn’t there and you are brought back to reality again.
“Oh, that’s right. It’s gone. He’s gone. I have to find a new way to do this because life is different now.”
Even though you are still you, the lost part of you becomes a part of you. You will always be an amputee. A widow. A widower.
You have a new, invisible companion that you are intimately aware of, but that no one else can sense.
The rest of the world tries to understand your new normal. They want to because they want to help, or at least be kind. But understanding is nearly impossible, because you can’t live it until you live it.
It’s like your life as you knew it ended and a new one began when your spouse left this world. I suppose many reading this will think I’m being dramatic, but it’s almost like the world has changed, or maybe, better put, it’s you that’s changed. Your soul has changed, or perhaps you are just more aware of what your soul has always been.
Either way, you and the world no longer mesh like you once did. The old you worked in one way and the new you sees the world with completely different eyes.
With a new clarity. The people you knew before are still themselves, living the world that used to suit you, except it doesn’t anymore. Therein lies the rub.
The lost limb has changed everything for you. Forever. At first this may seem like a bad thing, because it is. But with time, you learn that you have the ability to learn to do things a new way. Approach them in a new way. See them in a new way. And you learn you can accomplish things you never thought you could do within your present circumstances.
You have to learn to live in your new world because you want to and you have to - I’m not sure which is more important, the want or the have. I’m not sure which drives the train, so to speak. Probably both.
When my husband first left this physical world, I vowed not to be a widow. I vowed not to let it define me. But I was wrong. It does. You can’t pretend you didn’t lose your husband, just like you can’t pretend you didn’t lose a leg or an arm. There is no pretending - at least not to anyone but yourself.
And that never works.
Jill Pertler is an award-winning syndicated columnist, published playwright and author. Don’t miss a slice; follow the Slices of Life page on Facebook.
