Anger

I'm angry.

This has been building over the last few days, and I finally identified it on my way to work this morning. It's funny how we can recognize some emotions as soon as we feel them, and others take a while to sink in.

But anyway, I'm angry. I'm angry at Kevin for leaving me. We were supposed to grow old together. Now I face the possibility -- perhaps the likelihood -- of growing old and dying alone. I'm angry at the disease that took him from me. It's so unfair and fucked-up and his death was so pointless.

And I get angry sometimes when I see a couple happy together. I know that's wrong, I should be happy for them. But I just get envious and bitter because that's something that has been taken away from me. Then I feel ashamed for feeling such envy.

I hate feeling this way - I know it's normal in this situation to have these emotions, but it's difficult to reconcile all the conflicting feelings, and I hate most of all feeling powerless over them. Sadness, relief, despair, hope, anger, you name it - they churn and bubble up and I don't know what I'm going to feel at any given time.

Hope

I ran across this exquisite poem on Medium.com. I really needed to hear this today. I hope the author doesn't mind me sharing it.

On the Rocks by Mike Essig

Grief is love’s final act.
A scent. A shirt. A house.
Memory in a bottle
brimming with loss
your soul wants to imbibe.
The bottle belongs on a shelf,
but won’t stay closed.
It wants to pop open
and spill all over you.
Love your losses but beware.
Do not make a habit of despair.
The world overflows
with broken hearts.
No one can live every day
drenched in sorrow.
We live today or not at all.
Drink only when you must,
and take each swallow
with a chaser of Joy.

This gives me so much hope, reminding me that I will get through this.

Wandering aimlessly

I'm so lost without him. I don't know what I should do next. It's really difficult to explain - it's like my sense of direction for my life has vanished. It's not as if I don't have a purpose, it's more like I no longer know how to aim it, what to focus it on. I can't say I have nothing to look forward to, because I do, and I am. I have so much to accomplish, yet I'm just spinning my wheels most of the time.

I don't possess the words to describe adequately how I feel.... These are the best I can come up with:

Wandering aimlessly through the forest;
Set adrift on the sea;
Floating in the vastness of space;
Abandoned in the desert;
Drifting on the wind;
Lost in the eerie quiet of the fog;
Alone in an unfamiliar place, in the dark;
Locked out in the cold.

Will I ever feel normal again? What's "normal"? I don't know anymore. But I'm not going to give up, can't give up. People are counting on me. I have so much love to give and receive. I still have hopes and dreams, believe it or not. I just need time to clear my head, to ponder what it all means.

Legacy

I was thinking about things that Kevin will be remembered for. Besides his nursing work in hospice, and just being a good, down-to-earth person with a kind heart, he left quite a legacy through his generosity to charity; I hope to be able to continue that legacy in his memory.

One thing I can do towards that goal is to encourage anyone reading this to donate to charity - whatever you can do. If you would like some suggestions for charity(ies) to donate to, here are some of his favorites:

• Youth Heartline (www.youthheartline.org) - Based in Taos, NM, this organization's mission is to make life safer and better for vulnerable children and families in the community. It does this through outreach & advocacy programs, supervised visitation monitoring, an afterschool enrichment program, and more.

• New Mexico Gay Men's Chorus (www.nmgmc.org) - NMGMC's mission is to reduce homophobia and intolerance and create a positive image of the GLBT community through high-quality, public musical performances. (Disclaimer: I am a member of the chorus.)

• Gay Men's Health Crisis (www.gmhc.org) - GMHC is the world’s first and leading provider of HIV/AIDS prevention, care and advocacy. Their mission is to fight to end the AIDS epidemic and uplift the lives of all affected.

• Nothing But Nets (www.nothingbutnets.net) - Nothing But Nets is a United Nations Foundation organization that distributes insecticide-treated bed nets to countries in Africa in order to prevent malaria deaths.

• Doctors Without Borders (www.doctorswithoutborders.org) - Doctors Without Borders (Médecins Sans Frontières) provides medical humanitarian aid to people in the acute phase of a crisis.

• AIDS/LifeCycle (www.aidslifecycle.org) - AIDS/LifeCycle is co-produced by the San Francisco AIDS Foundation and the Los Angeles LGBT Center and is designed to advance their shared interests to end the pandemic and human suffering caused by AIDS. Kevin sponsored his cousin Amy Wolff (tofighthiv.org/goto/amywolff) and our friend Michael Cox (tofighthiv.org/goto/michaelcox).

All of these organizations are non-profits with IRS 501(c)(3) tax-exempt designation, so your contributions are tax-deductible to the full extent of the law (however, please consult with your tax professional).

Time has no meaning

I can't believe it's been two weeks already. It seems like it was just yesterday. Everything since 11:15pm MDT on Monday, April 24, 2017, seems like a single moment in time. It's all one monochromatic blur.

Will it always be like this? Without you there doesn't seem to be anything to differentiate one day from the last. My only point of reference is the sorrow and pain my grief causes. My only solace right now is knowing (from the experience I gained when my mom died - you remember that) that it will get easier someday...

The everyday things...

I keep thinking about the places we traveled and the places we had planned to visit together.

I still say "we", "us", and "our" instead of what is the reality now, "I", "me", and "my".

I'm always hearing some news story, something ridiculous or outrageous a politician has done, a new song on the radio, a joke -- and I can't wait to tell you about it.

I don't enjoy watching our favorite shows on TV anymore - there just doesn't seem to be any point without you to share it with.

Completing some of the projects we planned to do around the house doesn't bring me the sense of satisfaction and accomplishment it once did.

I don't like cooking for one. Dinner out? I can't go back to our favorite restaurants yet.

I haven't wanted to/can't sleep in our bed. The sound of your gentle snoring, the warmth emanating from your body, the way you stole the sheets, the comfort of your embrace...no longer there.

These are the everyday things that I miss; things that we did together. Without you to share them with, they ring empty and hollow.

Grocery shopping

I did the bulk of the grocery shopping for Kevin and me (and the animals). Yesterday I went to the grocery store for the first time since he died. I had a near panic attack at the store, when I realized I was only shopping for myself and not for us.


I know that some people truly relish the freedom of being single. Of course I haven't had time yet to get used to the idea, but if yesterday was any indication, I don't like it. I'd rather be thinking about how I can make someone else just a little happier and healthier.

I suppose that as time goes by I'll begin to feel differently. But for now, I hate being alone. I hate it so much.

Does it matter?

I cannot fathom why so many people ask me, "What happened?" (i.e. "How did Kevin die?").

Does it really matter that much to you? He died, that's what happened. And fuck you for asking - it's none of your business, and besides, what difference does it make? A beautiful, generous, kind soul has left this sorry world, and all you're concerned about is how he died.

My standard answer is, "I don't want to talk about it right now." That usually takes the wind out of their sails and they drop it. But a few have been more persistent, and I've had to either change the subject or be very firm on my stance that it really is none of your fucking business. I don't care that your curiosity is getting the best of you. His family knows what happened; the medical examiner knows what happened. And you just need to mind your own business - asking me "What happened?" isn't being empathetic or supportive, it's insensitive and rude.

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

Those are the words that everyone says. I know they mean well, and I’m not going to criticize anyone for using those words because I don’t know of anything better to say myself when I’m on the other side of the fence and I’m saying those words to someone else. They’re pre-programmed, the default.

But those words and many others (“If there’s anything at all I can do…”, “What can I do to help…”, etc.) that are said at these times are woefully inadequate and they really don’t help. I’m not being ungrateful or surly or ungracious — it’s just that there are no words that can help at this time.

I must grieve. I must feel my feelings — I must get angry at my beloved for leaving me; I must be unforgiving of myself for not doing more, for not spending more time, for not noticing something important that I “should have” noticed; I must cry and sob and beg and plead; most of all I must allow myself to be sad.

All this before I can accept what has happened, before I can understand why, before I can begin to move forward — please don’t tell me I’ll “move on with my life”, what does that even mean?

Grief has to be taken in slowly, in small doses. It has to be woven into the fabric of our lives little by little, only as much as we can stand at once — some days more than others. When we integrate our grief this way, it has a better chance of making us stronger people, rather than washing us away.

So please don’t say those words to me, “I’m sorry for your loss.” I know you feel sorry for me, you don’t have to tell me. Instead, hold a space for my grief. Tell me you feel sad too. Tell me you care about me and that you won’t abandon me. That’s what I need to hear so that my grief has a place to live while I absorb it.

No, I will never be the same, never again, without him physically by my side. That really, really sucks and I can’t see past the emptiness I feel. But as I begin to work through the grief, I’ll begin to realize that my husband is always with me; he lives on in my memories, dreams, hopes, and most of all, the love I still and will always have for him.

Note: This essay was originally published on medium.com on 5/2/2017.