The Real Lisa Bain

The Wandering Widow

Grief Recovery Project

Functional Grieving (Or What Shrek Taught Me About Grief Recovery)

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A Keeping It Real Post

Shrek: For your information, there’s a lot more to ogres than people think.
Donkey: Example?
Shrek: Example… uh… ogres are like onions! [holds up an onion, which Donkey sniffs]
Donkey: They stink?
Shrek: Yes… No!
Donkey: Oh, they make you cry?
Shrek: No!
Donkey: Oh, you leave ’em out in the sun, they get all brown, start sproutin’ little white hairs…
Shrek: [peels an onion] NO! Layers. Onions have layers. Ogres have layers… You get it? We both have layers.

One of the things many W’s hear, is how strong we are. Inspirational even. I used to hear that as lazy and non-supportive. Back then, it was a preemptive, “I can’t handle your grief, so I’m telling you that you’re strong so you don’t actually share and get any Grief on me” cop out. Today, as I make progress down the grief path, I hear it as something else. It’s affirmation of how well I’m doing as a Functional Griever.

What’s a Functional Griever?

Ever hear of a functioning alcoholic? Well, the functional griever is in the same boat. We can mostly get by in society despite our sometimes crippling grief. We’re good at it. And we fool other people (and sometimes ourselves) into thinking we’re “cured” of our grief. News flash: there is no cure for grief. We get used to it. We deal with it (sometimes better than others). And we move forward. Never ever assume that because someone is functional they are over it.

PRO-TIP: Never say, “I thought you’d be over it by now” or “You need to get over it” aloud. Don’t even think it. We’ll probably hear you.

Who The Hell Are You Calling Strong?

p/c pixabay

I had someone accuse me of being modest when I told them I didn’t see myself as strong. Or inspirational. Or any other positive adjective that people sometimes use to describe me. So here’s the keeping it real part: while I do make an effort to keep my posts positive and my eyes focused on the beauty of life, there are a lot of layers you don’t see.

You don’t see the times I struggle with insomnia and overwhelming loneliness. Or the times I wake up sobbing because I had a dream about Dan and forgot, for just a tiny minute, that he was dead. You don’t see the Grief Days where I can’t will myself to be functional, so stream movies and eat Oreo cookies in bed. All day. Sometimes more than one day. In a row. Even now, two years later. Those things don’t happen with the frequency they used to, but they do still occasionally show up, and almost always without warning. They probably always will. So what were you saying about strong? I didn’t hear you. I was too busy brushing Oreo crumbs off my pillow.

What Shrek Taught Me About Grief

p/c pixabay

But what does Shrek have to do with it? I’m so glad you asked. Grief and bereavement have multiple layers, just like an onion. Or an ogre, in Shrek’s case. You congratulate yourself on getting through one layer and hope it’s done. Wrongo bongo, Donkey! Now it’s time to meet the next tear-inducing oniony layer, waiting to come up and slap you upside the head when you’re busy catching your breath.

This summer was definitely an onion peeling experience. I’d been in the happy zone for so long, that it caught me off guard to get hit by wave after wave of the grief in this new layer. After a few triumphant weeks of living life in the fast lane back home, the Memorial Day Meltdown of 2018 brought all that to a screeching halt. Add to that, by sharing my feelings, I got a big dose of “we’re done with you and your grief,” packaged neatly in “it’s been two years, you need to focus on the positive” and “maybe you should just go back to Europe.” (Ummm, yeah. I’m pretty positive. Being real and honest isn’t the same as being negative. Grief-phobic much?)

The Secret of the Grief Onion

Talk about a kick-off to an oniony painful summer, full of life’s milestones that I got to experience all by myself. No Funyuns here, just giant stinky balls of tear bombs that fly off the back of a farm truck in Nampa, Idaho only to careen into your windshield as you’re cruising down life’s unsuspecting highway.

Do you wanna know a secret? The onion layers aren’t all miserable. I wonder sometimes how we’re able to experience both joy and pain, laughter through tears, and happiness side-by-side with sadness. Being human is complicated. And exhausting!

Shortly after the Memorial Day Meltdown, a friend reminded me that when I started blogging I’d committed to fully delving into the grief recovery experience. Doh! Sometimes I think getting to know the ogre would be easier. But I let things play out and faced it head on. (The things I do in the name of research!) Well, I’m finally done crying through this layer. Now it’s time to take a breather, enjoy some fresh European air, and take a break before peeling the next one.

XOXO,
The Wandering Widow
Live Now. Dream Big. Love Fierce.

To all my W mentors who continue to inspire me with their strength and grace, thank you. And shout out to RC, who reminds me that parfaits have layers, too. 

POST SOUNDTRACK

I Will Not Bow, Breaking Benjamin

Fall

Now the dark begins to rise
Save your breath, it’s far from over
Leave the lost and dead behind
Now’s your chance to run for cover

I don’t want to change the world
I just wanna leave it colder
Light the fuse and burn it up
Take the path that leads to nowhere

All is lost again
But I’m not giving in

Watch the end through dying eyes
Now the dark is taking over
Show me where forever dies
Take the fall and run to Heaven

All is lost again
But I’m not giving in

I will not bow
I will not break
I will shut the world away
I will not fall
I will not fade
I will take your breath away

And I’ll survive, paranoid
I have lost the will to change
And I am not proud, cold-blooded fake
I will shut the world away

Open your eyes!

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We to Me: Reclaiming My Favorite Places (A Week on the Oregon Coast)

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I want to reclaim who I am.
~Elizabeth Edwards

A Wandering Widow Post

When Dan first died, my hospice chaplain gave me some advice that took awhile for me to understand. He told me that avoiding the places that were important to WE, made Dan disappear. Jay gently suggested that it would be important for ME to reclaim them as my own. Being me, I did the exact opposite. I sold our dream home, moved to a part of town Dan hated, quit watching our favorite football team (Sorry Boise State Broncos), and avoided our favorite restaurants and activities. It was as if anything familiar made the oppressive weight of his loss that much more painful.

Fast forward two years, and I finally get what Chaplain Jay was talking about. By avoiding anything that was WE, I was also shutting down anything that was ME. Hey, I’m a slow learner sometimes, but I do pay attention.

Reclaiming

Sunset over Depoe Bay

So there I sat, with a cup of coffee, watching whales crest outside my balcony in Depoe Bay, reclaiming one of my favorite places: the Oregon Coast. I was lucky enough to be with two of my favorite people, who made the trip with us every time, even after WE became ME.

The only times I’d ever been on the Oregon Coast were with Dan, and they were after the word CANCER had entered our lives. We were on a time crunch to make as many memories as we could. Since he spent summers there as a kid it was important to him that he share it with me. Last year was the last time we came together. Only that time what was left of him was stashed in a Maker’s Mark bottle and we scattered him at a waterfall.

This time it was different. Just like reclaiming Boise for my own, this week on the coast was about rediscovering the beauty and happiness of this national treasure. No more Dan shaped voids, just the occasional pangs of memories and lots of laughs channeling his funny sayings and sometimes surly behavior.

Cheers to all my W Sisters taking the often painful steps of reclaiming the joys in life.

XOXO,
The Wandering Widow
Live Now. Dream Big. Love Fierce.

Click here for my Oregon Coast Road Trip photos.

THE WAY THERE

It’s an almost nine-hour drive to Depoe Bay from Boise. When we visited before, we broke that up into multiple days since Dan was too ill to be in the car that long. I’d forgotten how much I hate long car drives, but we did manage to stop at every scenic view lookout along the way (my sister-in-law is a saint). And since you have to pass through Hood River (Dan’s childhood summer haunt), we made sure to stop at Mike’s Ice Cream for their famous huckleberry shakes. This is one of our family favorites, and when we stay in Hood River it’s a daily stop. (Cash only for those of you who like to plan ahead).

DEPOE BAY

Yaquina Head Lighthouse.

We chose to make Depoe Bay our home base for the week of Independence Day. This is the whale watching capital of Oregon and a quiet coastal town. We stayed at an Airbnb condo with an ocean view, and a short five-minute walk to food, shops, and whale watching off the cliffs. Our first night we were treated to one of the most amazing sunsets I’ve ever witnessed and the sight of whales breaking the surface of the ocean. I could have stayed on that cliffside forever.

Dinner at Horn Public House got us out of the wind, without sacrificing our sunset and whale watching views. We ate here several times and were impressed with the service and the food, although the last hour of the evening they go to a very limited menu. Definitely try their house brewed beers before you leave. My favorite was the Little Whale Cream Ale, but I recommend trying them all.

There isn’t a lot of great beach access in Depoe Bay, although Fogarty Creek Park is pretty enough and has some decent agate hunting (even in the summer). I’d continue to Lincoln or Newport if you really want to play in the sand. I love the ocean in all it’s many varieties, so liked Fogarty Creek, although the rest of the family wasn’t too impressed. Instead of a wide stretch of white sand, it was pebbly and the ridge of trees went straight out to the water, a beautiful blending of forest and ocean.

There are no fireworks in Depoe Bay due to the sensitivity of the seabirds that nest here, but both Lincoln and Newport are a short drive away so you don’t have to worry about missing out.

ACTIVITIES

Whale Watching

Whale Watching off the cliffs of Depoe Bay.

Depoe Bay is the self-proclaimed whale watching capital of Oregon, and with about 10 species of whales that hang out off the coast, I’d agree. I could see them from my balcony, or just off the street.

In addition to the hours we spent on a bench or rock wall just watching these majestic creatures do their thing, we took a whale watching boat tour with Dockside Charters. The crew was knowledgeable and friendly, although we saw more whales from the bridge than we did out at sea. I love boats and being on the water, so I didn’t care. (Pretty sure I was the only one hollering “woohoo” when we hit big waves and got soaked since I was sitting as far front as possible.)

PRO TIP: If you’re used to boats on fresh water, the wide open sea is rougher than it looks. Dramamine up if you’re not sure how you’ll do, or stay in the rear of the boat.

The Clam Chowder Taste-Off of 2018

Okay, nobody, and I mean nobody, will ever come close to beating my Grandma’s homemade clam chowder. But, that doesn’t stop me from trying to find someone who comes close. On this trip I sampled clam chowder up and down the coast (thanks to everyone who sent me recommendations). I sampled more than 12, but narrowed it down to my Top 3, which I’m sharing with you. All three were perfectly seasoned and very different. (If I have to add salt or pepper it doesn’t make the list since it violates my “always trust the chef” rule.)

#3. The Horn Public House, Depoe Bay, Oregon

Overall good flavor, creative use of herbs, and enhanced by the incredible views.

#2. Gracie’s Sea Hag, Depoe Bay, Oregon

Their clam chowder was meaty (nothing worse than chowder that is potato heavy) and had good flavor. It had the added benefit of being walking distance from our condo.

#1. Clearwater Restaurant, Newport, Oregon

Their clam chowder was my favorite, and not just because I enjoyed it deckside on a sunny day. They add baby pink shrimp to their chowder, which makes it extra amazing. Purists can order it without the shrimp. This may be the closest to my Grandma’s I’ve ever found.

LINCOLN CITY

Lunch at Kyllos is a must. The seaside views are amazing, and the seafood is delicious. If you have an under-21 in your group you won’t be able to dine on the patio, but the views from inside are just fine. And there are plenty of non-seafood options for those that don’t eat it.

After lunch stroll down to the beach to walk off whatever deliciousness you just ate (crab-stuffed halibut in my case). The day we were there we collected sea glass and cool rocks, went treasure hunting in tidepools to see the anemone, and dodged the jellyfish and squid eggs that lined the beach (cool unless you step on them in your bare feet. Gag.)

Between October and May local glass artists hide their glass floats near the tide line for visitors to find.

And while I abhor shopping, the Lincoln Outlet Mall has a Northface outlet, and I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to get some new gear for my fall trips.

NEWPORT

Newport Harbor on Independence Day.

This harbor town is full of shops and restaurants, and normally where our family has stayed when we’ve come to the coast. While I can live without the cheesy Bigfoot at Ripleys and the wax museum, I’m happy as a mermaid just hanging out, so while my SIL and nephew went touristing, I parked myself on the deck at Clearwater Restaurant for some pier side people watching.

PRO TIP: Dress for success! Much like my beloved Ireland and Scotland, the weather here changes from minute to minute. If you’re heading out for a whole day of fun, plan on walking shoes and beach shoes, layers to accommodate both the chilly morning and evening temperatures and the toasty afternoons. Don’t worry about your hair, it’s windy and salty and misty. (Beach hair, don’t care!) And don’t forget the sunscreen. Even on a cool cloudy day, you can get burned if you’re out long enough.

The Independence Day fireworks display lived up to the hype. In addition to the display, people take their boats out and shoot off their flare guns. I know, my European friends are shaking their heads and saying, “Americans and their guns,” right now. I’m just laughing and trying to make new friends with boats.

Newport does it right.

TILLAMOOK

The Creamery rebuilt their visitor’s center a while back, so if you have kiddos you may want to stop here for the self-tour and some fresh ice cream. Just be advised, on the weekend it’s more crowded than a WalMart with a Back-to-School sale.

Oceanside was my favorite part of the trip to Tillamook. Oceanside beach offers a long stretch of white sand, tidepools to explore, agate hunting, and just playing in the water. A few miles away you’ll find the Cape Meares Lighthouse. While you’re there, go check out the Octopus Tree. Oh, just don’t try to hug it. Hugging the Octopus Tree will get you on the naughty list. Whomp whomp.

POST SOUNDTRACK

The Lonesome Boatman (instrumental) The Fureys

I love this tune. My friends, Mark and Gary of For Folk Sake, play my favorite version. They introduced me to it one Friday night at McHugh’s Bar in Belfast.  Favorite tune by my favorite musicians in my favorite pub in my favorite city? Yes, please! (The countdown is on for my return to Ireland, and I can’t wait.)

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How Has It Been Two Years Without Him?

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“Time moves on for us, for you it stands still. You will be forever ageless as we grow old, your smile will never wrinkle, nor will that shine in your eyes fade.”
Kendal Rob

A Wondering Widow Post

It’s almost impossible to believe two years have passed since I sat vigil, alone with my beloved after our family left for the night; two years since I watched my beloved die a gruesome death. It’s surreal to think a year has passed since I survived Dan’s one-year deathiversary. And it’s a miracle I remember it at all since I spent that day with some amazing friends who agreed to day drink with me so I wouldn’t be alone. (I know, I have the best friends ever.)

And today, somehow, I found myself at the two-year mark. I’ve spent the bulk of this second year on the road; traveling in the hopes of finding myself as I sought out beautiful places, interesting people, and adventure. And in the midst of my searching, I found something unexpected: happiness and peace. That’s not to say there haven’t been tears along the way; lots of them in the last few days. (The night before continues to be worse than the morning of. Maybe because that’s when I felt the most helpless and alone.)

Brace For Impact

Our nephew was born a month before Dan died, and this was the closest he got to holding a grandbaby. After this photo was taken, and we were finally alone again, my big strong man broke down and cried.

If you are a regular reader, you know I try to brace for impact against these grief milestones by keeping myself busy and surrounded with people I love. So I couldn’t think of anyone I’d rather spend this second deathiversary with than my beautiful new granddaughter.

Dan worshiped his Grandpa and couldn’t wait to be one himself. It was his one dying regret. So as I held this sweet little girl, part of my heart felt that familiar ache for him. He should have been here. He would have loved her instantly and fiercely. Dan would have spoiled her rotten and included her in all kinds of shenanigans that her parents wouldn’t approve of, and then laughed about it. He would have been the coolest Grandpa ever.

Circle of Life

Tutu, tell me another story about Grandpa Dan.

But the other part of my heart was full of joy. Because, as I held the world’s most perfect grandchild until my arms were ready to fall off, I realized I’m now the one who gets to tell her all about her Grandpa Dan. How funny he was, how smart he was, how handsome he was, and what a knuckle-dragging cretin he could be. I get to be the cool Granny that gets her in all kinds of shenanigans. Life goes on, and we’ll be living it to the fullest, just like her Grandpa Dan did.  (Anyone else hearing Circle of Life from Lion King in their head right now? No? Just me?)

It’s strange to think of her growing up in a world without him. But, just like me, she’ll be surrounded by people who love her and will keep his memory alive. So as I sit here gazing at this beautiful sleeping angel, I’m marking the 2nd Year Deathiversary Milestone officially survived. Thanks to everyone for the messages of support, today and every day.

XOXO,
The Wandering Widow
Live Now. Dream Big. Love Fierce.

Special thanks to M and K for the opportunity to not only be a Grandma, but to spend this day with their precious angel.

Post Soundtrack

You Should Be Here, Cole Swindell

It’s perfect outside. It’s like God let me dial up the weather.
Got the whole crew here, I ain’t seen some of them in forever.
It’s one of those never-forget-it-better-stop-and-take-it-in kinda scenes.
Everything’s just right, yeah, except for one thing.

You should be here, standing with your arm around me here.
Cutting up, cracking a cold beer, saying cheers, hey y’all it’s sure been a good year.
It’s one of those moments, that’s got your name written all over it.
And you know that if I had just one wish it’d be that you didn’t have to miss this
You should be here.

You’d be taking way too many pictures on your phone.
Showing them off to everybody that you know back home.
And even some you don’t, yeah
They say now you’re in a better place
And I would be too if I could see your face.

You should be here, standing with your arm around me here.
Cutting up, cracking a cold beer, saying cheers, hey, y’all it’s sure been a good year.
It’s one of those moments, that’s got your name written all over it.
And you know that if I had just one wish it’d be that you didn’t have to miss this.
Aw you should be here.

You’d be loving this, you’d be freaking out, you’d be smiling, yeah
I know you’d be all about what’s going on right here right now.
God, I wish somehow you could be here.

Oh, you should be here.

Yeah, this is one of those moments that’s got your name written all over it
And you know that if I had just one wish it’d be that you didn’t have to miss this.
Aw you should be here.
You should be here.

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4 Days in San Diego (Home Sweet Old Home)

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A Wandering Widow Post

“Coming back is the thing that enables you to see how all the dots in your life are connected, how one decision leads you to another, how one twist of fate, good or bad, brings you to a door that later takes you to another door, which aided by several detours–long hallways and unforeseen stairwells–eventually puts you in the place you are now.”
Ann Patchett, What Now

A few days after I visited San Francisco, I decided to head out for some long overdue girl time. Hello, sunny San Diego!  I lived in this beautiful seaside city for eight years, and it felt a bit like coming home. You know being a tourist is never high on my list, but compromising with the bestie, who had never been to San Diego, made for some interesting outings. And it’s true, you can never really go home again. So much had changed since I lived there 14 years ago, that I was seeing most of my old stomping grounds for the first time. It’s amazing how much you can see and do in four short days.

XOXO,
The Wandering Widow
Live Now. Dream Big. Love Fierce.

Click here for my San Diego photo album.

Day 1

Life looks better from the deck of a boat.

One of the things I love about San Diego is the ability to get a direct flight from Boise. We checked into the Hard Rock Hotel, right in the heart of the Gaslamp Quarter as soon as we landed. If you’re going to stay in the city, this is a perfect location. The rooms are fantastic, as are the service, wifi, and amenities. Where else can you check out a Fender guitar or an old school record player for your room? Drinks poolside at Float was the perfect way to start our rock star trip, with an amazing view, generous drinks, and a pool party.

Walking the Gaslamp Quarter is the best way to scope out the many dining options available. We had brunch at Rustic Root, home of the best Crab and Fried Green Tomato Eggs Benedict on the planet. Be sure to sit upstairs on the patio to enjoy the view of the farmer’s market below if you’re there on a weekend.

The big loop will take you to PETCO Park, the Convention Center, the harbor, and Sea Port Village. Need a break? Stop in at Roy’s for drinks on the patio and a view of the yachts.

While you’re there, be sure to make dinner reservations at Nobu, located on the ground floor of the Hard Rock Hotel. Nobu is famous for his Iron Chef role, but he is a mad genius when it comes to Asian Fusion cuisine. I had the best meal of my life there and, since I’m an international foodie, that is saying something. Everything I sampled was better than what I’d just got done declaring as the best thing I’ve ever had in my mouth. The combination of flavors was beautiful, and I fell in love. I would have married this meal and had its babies, it was THAT good. (My mouth is watering just thinking about it.)

Day 2

Coronado Island

Beach Day! We took the ferry to Coronado Island for less than $5, something locals never do. But what a view of the skyline from the water! After a 20 minute walk into town we reached the Hotel del Coronado. We spent the day at The Del, dining, drinking, and lounging on the beach. For those of you who like old movies, The Del is where they filmed Some Like It Hot with Marilyn Monroe.

Pacific Beach

Sunset from the end of Crystal Pier in Pacific Beach.

That evening we continued our beach theme with a trek out to Pacific Beach (or PB for locals) to have dinner at Waterbar.  (PB is a short $20 Uber ride from the Gaslamp Quarter.) After our ocean front meal, we strolled to the end of Crystal Pier to watch the sun set over the pacific. It was a bit chilly, so bring a sweater if you decide to do this. (Do it!) We didn’t see the famous green flash, but I never saw it when I lived here either, and am convinced it’s something the weathermen made up to get us to pay attention to them.

After Ubering back to the Gaslamp Quarter we had a nightcap at Lou and Mickey’s, a beautiful old bar that’s been in the Gaslamp since the 40s. The white coated waiters and the dark hardwood bar transport you back in time, when life was a little more elegant. Definitely worth a stop for drinks, if not one of their famous steak dinners.

Day 3

Balboa Park

We started our morning with a stroll through Balboa Park to look at the historic buildings from the 1915 Panama-California Exposition. Unlike San Francisco who tore most of theirs down, San Diego’s World’s Fair buildings anchor the heart of Balboa Park.

If you’re already at the park, be sure to have lunch at the Prado, where you can dine al fresco next to bubbling fountains. A perfect break after climbing 152 stairs to the top of the tower at the Museum of Man (worth it for the panoramic views of the city).

Memories in Marble at Miramar National Cemetery

When I take time to think about it, my grief journey started years before I heard the word cancer, I just didn’t know it. We didn’t talk about those things back then. Before anything else, San Diego is a military town. The last time I was here I was married to a Marine Corps Drill Instructor. After 9/11 I saw lots of names scroll through the evening news casualty updates of kids that he’d trained. I saw names of friends, and saw my friends become widows. I became obsessed with that list. It wasn’t until I moved to Idaho, where that roster only mattered if the names were Idaho kids, that I was able to finally distance myself from it.

That Marine Corps DI and I stayed in touch over the years, eventually rebuilding the friendship our relationship was based upon. I was heartbroken to learn that he, too, became a casualty of his military service. The year before Dad and Dan died, Russ became a PTSD suicide victim. (Yeah, I lost the three men I loved most in the world all in a two-year time span. Don’t ever tell me I need to think positive. I do a pretty damned good job of staying positive, if I do say so myself.) And while I typically avoid cemeteries and graveyards, this was one I had to visit while I was in town.

When I lived in San Diego, this cemetery didn’t exist. It wasn’t dedicated until 2010. It was surreal to be sitting at his grave, hearing the fighter jets buzz overhead from the air station next door, our last duty station. Despite being new, there were already rows and rows of marble headstones. I wasn’t prepared for how emotional it would be. That afternoon I learned how soft and smooth marble is to the touch, and how sharp the names are when they are of someone you loved, and how loud your voice is when it echoes off marble rows.

Padres Game at Petco Park

As long as I’d lived in San Diego, I never saw the Padres play live. I kick myself for that now. I can only imagine what it would have been like to see the great Tony Gwynn running across home plate. But, there’s no time like the present. Petco Park had just finished construction when I moved away so it was fun to tour this amazing baseball stadium. Just like the song says, nights are better under neon or stadium lights.

Day 4

Old Town

With a late afternoon flight, we had time to take in a few more sights on our last day. From the Gaslamp, we took the green line on the red trolley to Old Town for $2.50. After touring San Diego’s version of Williamsburg, we enjoyed lunch and the best margaritas in San Diego. If you like ghosts, check out the Whaley house museum. Take photos of the dining room to see if you can see the dog under the dining table. (And then send me a photo since I couldn’t see it.)

Little Italy

On your way back to the Gaslamp, make a stop in Little Italy for a walk about before your ticket expires. Little Italy is home to fun cafes, restaurants and shops. Back when I lived in SD, the Trolley only had one line, so it was cool to see how much it’s grown. It’s clean, cheap, and easy to use.

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The Non-Timeline Grief Timeline (or What Do You Mean the 2nd Year is Worse?)

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Disclaimer: I’m not a counselor. Not even close. I’m a warrior widow and survivor of the worst grief can throw at you. These are just my observations. If you’re in crisis please seek professional help.

A Grief Recovery Post

“They say time heals all wounds, but that presumes the source of the grief is finite”
Cassandra Clare, Clockwork Prince

Have you ever worked hard to achieve a goal, only to have someone tell you that the worst part is still ahead? That’s what happened to me last year as I got close to Dan’s one-year deathiversary. As hellish as the first year AD (after Dan) was, I’d already started hearing that the second year was even worse. Are you kidding me? I barely made it through the first one alive, so this wasn’t what I wanted to hear.

I’ve watched the Widows ahead of me, my mentors and biggest advocates, seem to struggle even more as they reached this 2-year milestone. My theory is that both we, the grieving, and our friends and family, believe we should be “better” after the first year.

SIDE NOTE: Can you believe some people actually congratulate Widows on making it to the finish line? Or tell her that she’s survived the first year so can survive anything?  Wrongo bongo! Folks, file that under What Not To Say and accept that Years 2+ still suck. Oh, and for the record, saying something like that to a W is a total cop out. We know it really means, “Whew. So glad that year of being there for you is done. Really glad I don’t have to grief with you anymore. Peace out.”

Brace Yourself

So, as I get closer to that date (T-26 Days for those of you keeping track), I’ve been bracing myself for the worst. We are all different, but when I see a trend I tend to accept that some things just are.

Instead of being upset about these dire warnings, I’m relieved. I’m the kind of person who likes to know what may be ahead. Just ask anyone who has ever tried to navigate while I’m driving. (Recovering control freak, remember?) It’s one of the reasons I was so frustrated no one warned me what to expect with grief, and why I share that information with new W’s and their friends and families. Forewarned is forearmed, or something like that.

The Non-Timeline Timeline

I can’t stress enough that there is NO grief timeline. The Kübler-Ross 5 Stages of Grief model may have been the worst thing to happen to the grieving, since it implies that grief is linear and finite, but that’s a post for another day. However, as unique as our grief journeys are, some things are common enough it helps to be aware of them. So here’s my quick rundown on what MAY happen and when.

In the Beginning

The first few weeks you’re still in shock. You’ll be busy with funeral arrangements and will usually be surrounded by people. Most of those people will disappear after the funeral. That’s when it gets messy. Being suddenly abandoned to be alone with your grief is like falling through the trapdoor to hell.

Your first few months as a Widow, you will still be in shock, even though you’re in the worst pain of your life. Yeah, your brain is protecting you and you are still in shock. Just like when your brain makes you fall down when your blood pressure gets too low, it shuts off your ability to process the feelings completely. It’s the only way we survive. You will get your tenses confused between past and present. I often mixed them in a single sentence! The first time someone calls you a Widow to your face is a shock. Same goes for referring to your beloved as your late husband.

You may or may not seek grief counseling. (For the record, I champion grief counseling for everyone, and as soon as possible.) Insomnia, depression, PTSD, social anxiety, lack of appetite, excessive drinking, suicidal thoughts (including accidental suicide risks), physical pain and foggy widow brain are all common. Yeah, the $hit no one warned me about, which is why I’m sharing it with you.

When the Shock Wears Off

Somewhere between months four and seven, the shock starts to wear off. I know it’s hard to believe that you’re still in shock because of all the pain, but it’s there. Your brain finally begins to process and accept that he REALLY isn’t coming back. Ever. Any progress you think you’ve made will go out the window.  You may be surprised that you’re back to crying all the time. This is totally normal. Textbook, even, according to my grief counselor. That doesn’t make it feel any better, but I found it mildly reassuring to know I wasn’t bat$hit crazy and probably didn’t have a brain tumor.

If this time frame happens to coincide with the holidays, birthdays, or anniversaries, it’s exponentially worse. If you haven’t sought out grief counseling yet, now is the time. I hit that shock wear off right around the five-month marker. It was also at the first anniversary of my Dad’s death, my birthday, our anniversary, and the holidays. My favorite month of the year was now known as my month of hell. If it weren’t for my grief counselor, I may have thrown in the towel.

If you’re still suffering from insomnia and aren’t getting good nutrition, your brain chemistry has changed. This exacerbates everything else. You will feel like you’re backsliding. You’re not. You may feel like you’re losing your mind. You’re not. This is when things can get REALLY ugly, and friends, family, and employers need to understand this part of the grief process.

One Year Later

Then you cross the one year mark and think to yourself, “I did it. I hated every f@#$%&g second of it but I did it.” It’s the worst, most painful anniversary ever. It’s both the day they died, taking life as you knew it with them, and the day you own your survival. You didn’t think you’d make it, but you did. You survived. And that survival is something we usually can’t bring ourselves to celebrate. It’s a confusing day, to say the least. (I have vague recollections of wearing a tiara, but I use dark humor and widow snark as a coping mechanism.)

And time continues to march forward. Another birthday passes. Then an anniversary. Then Christmas. And another New Year’s marks another year where they weren’t alive for a single day in this world.

What Now?

Turning into the wave lessens the damage. (Donegal, Ireland)

And somehow the pages of the calendar keep turning and you reach the two-year milestone. That’s where I’m at. All I’ve heard is that it will be bad. Worse than the first year. Who knows. It doesn’t feel that way right now. In fact, I feel pretty good. Happy. At peace. Hopeful. Although in recent weeks I’ve felt that grief muscle memory starting to flex, so am prepared for the worst. (Remind me later to tell you about the Memorial Day Meltdown of 2018.)

So heads up Team Lisa. It ain’t over yet. This could be a tsunami of grief or a tiny wave lapping at my feet. I won’t know til it gets here. What I do know is it will be okay. Like the big waves that used to knock me around when I was a kid at the beach, I’ll turn into the grief wave to lessen the damage. I know I’ll get through it fine, just as long as I permit myself to feel the feelings. I know that the people I love will still be there with me, no matter what. And I know that it will pass, at least until the next grief milestone gets here.

XOXO,
The Wandering Widow
Live Now. Dream Big. Love Fierce.

Post Soundtrack

Where I’m Going, Eels

Can’t say I know what will happen tomorrow
I can’t say I know if it’s joy or sorrow
I can’t say how long I’ll stand at the line that I’m towing
But I’ve got a good feeling ’bout where I’m going

All you see, a world so full of need
And all I need is a pocket full of seeds
Sunflowers shooting up to a sky that is glowing
And I’ve got a good feeling ’bout where I’m going

Prayed for rain, it might not come
Can’t save the day, save someone
I can’t say if the flowers will keep on growing
But I’ve got a good feeling about where I’m going

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