Author and speaker Donna Cutting recently shared a deeply authentic and heartfelt post, offering solace and understanding to those who have lost a life partner.
Her words are profoundly moving and may bring comfort to your grieving heart.
“Friends, this writing is not a “poor me” and nor is it a cry for your support – you’ve given me plenty!!
I’ve had two interactions with widows lately that have left me feeling like it might be helpful if I talk about the difficult part of widowhood.
Only posting the positive may give people who say “you’re going through this with so much grace” or “I don’t know how you do it” the false impression that I’ve got it all together.
I am incredibly blessed with so many people I love and who love me and have been here for me in countless ways.
And yes, I am the kind of person who loves to immerse herself in life – that was true before Jim, during Jim, and after Jim.
So the parts I write about are because of those people who love me, my desire to live a full life, and because the alternative is to sink into myself and my feelings and isolate. And Jim would not want that for me.
But….here’s the side you don’t see.
There are some moments every single day – most of the time when I am alone, occasionally when I am with someone I trust, when the feeling of grief completely overwhelms me.
I cry EVERY DAY for the loss of my husband.
I find lots of joy in life – and then it hits me. This is real. Jim is never coming back. And it’s almost too hard to believe. I can’t think about it too much because if I do I will crawl into bed and never get out.
That man was my best friend for 31 years. He was my main person. In good times and bad, I never doubted that he was there for me 24/7.
And I am soooooo aware and grateful for people who have been there for me in ways that I never anticipated. Still, it’s hard to go from being “Jim and Donna” to …well…single.
Checking the Single Box for the first time was devastating.
I am grateful for my therapist – and most of my sessions center around my grief – “moving a lot of grief” is what she calls it. “Go drink some water. You moved a lot of grief today.”
Every single thing I release – an object from our home, a pattern we had together, some Christmas decorations, our apartment, our home in Asheville feels like a betrayal. I know that it’s not – but that’s how it feels.
My husband was a recovering alcoholic and when I met him I stopped drinking. Not because I had to but to support him.
A few times this past year, I have thought – “why am I passing up that little glass of celebratory champagne? There isn’t the reason any more.” Except that it feels like disconnection. Every step I take like that is like admitting that he’s really gone.
I grieve for the happy times and grieve for the tough ones. Jim was going through his own personal difficulties before he died and I am so sad – and also mad – that he didn’t come out the other side.
I think about things I said or did and wish I could have a do-over. When you’re with someone for 31 years you grow and learn and sometimes say and do things you wish you hadn’t.
I sit back with perspective on all that now and wish I could have a do-over.
There are little jokes or shared joy about little things that no one else sees in exactly the same way. And that’s when I talk to his spirit – because no one quite gets it.
I miss being touched. So much. Grabbing his hand. Dancing in the kitchen. Daily hugs and leaning against each other. Always finding each other. All of it.
Another widow suggested massages – and they are great, but not exactly the same. (Although, full confession, I almost proposed to Max at the Salt Cave recently. LOL!)
Which brings me to another topic. Dating. Nope. Not now. I can’t even fathom it. Don’t get me wrong. I am curious and enjoy hearing the adventures of my single friends. But….if I ever really think of it as a possibility, I dissolve into tears. Jim and I had such a deep connection.
I suppose there’s room for that in my future – but even just typing that phrase hurts. I don’t want anyone else – I want Jim back. So, the answer to that question right now is no, I’m not interested.
And oh the guilt about little things. I said to someone the other day that I can have pillows in my new apartment now. Jim never understood the need for decorative pillows – and now I have gone pillow crazy.
There are freedoms that occur when you go from two to one. And anytime I think about those, it feels like I’m betraying Jim – and I wonder, do people realize that even as I enjoy my new pillows, I would throw all those pillows away if I could have Jim back.
Again, this is not a cry for empathy or sympathy. Rather, I’m sharing for someone who may be going through something similar and think “oh, gosh, how is she doing that?”
Here’s how, not in any particular order:
1. Not everything you see on social is the whole picture. And I’ve always tried not to “poor me” on Social Media.
2. Jim and I had such a deep connection and I will always have that. And I talk to him all the time as if he is still here – and I know in a way he is. He would want the best for me.
3. Oh, my people. They know who they are. Some who have stepped up in ways above and beyond and I am so grateful.
4. A really good therapist.
If you’re reading this and you’re in a similar situation – I hope this is helpful. Love, love, love.”
~ Donna Cutting
If inspired, please share.
Related Articles:
Being Single: The Journey of Letting Go, Healing, and Self-Discovery
Coping with Loss: Insights from My Sister’s Passing
