Kansas State University Collegian
by Gloria Freeland
March 1987

Time, friends will conquer grief

My husband died a year ago Feb. 3 at the age of 31. Many people might say, "Oh, a year ago. She should be over that by now."

But I’m not over it. I'm still grieving, and right now I feel like I'll be grieving forever. In some ways, Feb. 3, 1986, seems like yesterday; in other ways, it seems like 60 years ago.

Between then and now, I've had - a baby. Between then and now, I've gone back to work full time. I'm sure I'm functioning better now than I was a year ago. A year ago, it was all I could do to gather the energy to get out of bed. Now I still have days when I'd rather pull the covers over my head, but more often than not, I can think in terms of what I want to accomplish each day.

A year ago, I was pregnant and terrified of being a single parent. Now I have a beautiful, contented 8 - month - old daughter who seems to be growing and developing quite well, in spite of my previous inexperience as a mother. A year ago, I wouldn't have had the strength to stand up before a class of 20 Reporting I students. Now I can stand up before them, give a lecture and even discuss how to write obituaries (even when my own husband's obituary stands out so clearly in my mind).

A year ago, shopping for groceries or going to Wal-Mart or walking near Denison Hall where he taught would send me into a panic. Now I can do all those simple things without panicking, even though I still feel painful twinges.

Over the past year, I have learned how resilient the human spirit is and I have learned how valuable family and friends are. Both my family and my husband's family have been extremely supportive, as have been a few good friends. My college roommate from 14 years ago is one example. Deb seemed to know instinctively what to do and say to help me in my grief.

She wrote to me every day for the first few weeks after Jerome's death and she still writes and calls at least once a week. She sent inspirational verses, invited me to the zoo with her daughters, allowed me to cry, sent a huge box of Christmas ornaments (because she knew my first Christmas without him would be difficult), remembered other holidays and was (and is) there whenever I needed (need) her.

Other friends have helped by listening - really listening - to me talk about my memories of Jerome and my up and down emotions by inviting me to their homes for meals, by giving me daily hugs, by acknowledging significant dates (our wedding anniversary, my birthday, Christmas, Valentine's Day, the first anniversary of his death), by remembering Jerome with love and laughter and tears. To those who have been able to open themselves to my pain, I give my deepest appreciation.

But during the past year, I also have had people ignore me rather than face me with my grief. At first I was hurt, then I became angry, and now I realize they just didn't know what to say and were afraid to face another's pain. Having gone through the most devastating year of my life, I have some ideas which might help a person deal with another's grief:

- Don't ignore the grieving person. Reach out, and even if the words "I'm sorry" don't come out, at least hold the person's hand or somehow indicate your concern.
- Don't pretend the situation is normal for the person or that it will ever be "normal" again.
- Let the grieving person talk about the one who died. It might make you uncomfortable, but it is the only way the person has of working through the grief.
- Call the grieving person or stop by to visit. The person who is grieving should not be expected to make the first move because the depression, hostility, loneliness and panic tend to paralyze the person into inaction.
- Invite the grieving person out, but be specific about dates and places. Don't just say "Let's go out sometime." The grieving person needs to have something to look forward to, even if it's only lunch or a trip to the zoo.

For those who are grieving, I have some ideas which helped me:

- Try to reach out to others. Don't hole up at home by yourself.
- Balance going out with time to yourself. You can't be moving so fast you don't allow yourself time to think.
- Read books and pamphlets on grief. They may not seem appropriate at the time, but you'll eventually find something that makes sense or strikes a chord with you.
- Write. Keep a journal or write poetry if it helps. Sometimes my feelings were so deep I couldn’t find the words to express them, but other times, writing was therapy for me.
- Ask people who knew your loved one to write what they remember about him or her. I did that and I'm so glad I did because now my daughter will know a little about what her dad was like through the words of others.
- Talk about the person. Find someone who is really willing to listen.
- Don't deny your feelings of anger, depression, panic or whatever. They're all normal and they don't mean you're going crazy.
- Find others who may have experienced a similar loss. Keep in mind there still will be differences because not every situation is the same.
- See a counselor who is a specialist in grief.
- Stay away from other major changes in your life if possible. Although the first inclination is to "run away," that may not necessarily be the thing to do. You've already had a major upheaval in your life. Don't add others if you don't have to.
- Realize there's nothing magic to take the pain away and no magic timetable on which to judge your progress. Grief is hard work. Grief has changed your life. Nothing will ever be the same again.
- Remember that death in inevitable, but so is life. A friend has told me that many times this year. Even though you don't understand why the sun is still shining or why others - including yourself - are still breathing, you go on because there is nothing else for you to do. And, eventually, same of that sunshine will get through and you'll be glad to be alive. It doesn't happen overnight and it comes in small doses, but happiness does return.

For me, the happiness creeps in when I watch my daughter playing or when I laugh at "Bloom County" (NOTE: a newspaper cartoon that ended in 1989) or when I get excited about my job. One thing that helps me keep going is remembering my husband's knack for making the most out of each day. He wrote the following paragraph in a 1979 New Year's Eve letter to his parents:

...Look not to the past, for it is only a shadow of what has been. Look toward the future, for there the light shines and illuminates the path we must travel. But most of all, live in the present and realize that with each new day the sun still rises and we still hold the key to life.

I keep it on my bulletin board and read it every day. Somehow, it comforts me knowing that is what he truly believed and what he would want me to live by.

Return