When someone has a bone marrow transplant the doctors call that The Day. So the next day is called Day +1, a month later is Day +30 and so on. They expect that certain things can happen around certain time frames, like an increase in blood counts or symptoms of graft vs host disease may arise, to name a couple.
Unfortunately, there is no set timeline in the grieving process. First of all, grieving changes the brain. Grieving can cause our brain to rewire its nerve connections, can activate parts of your brain you use when in survival mode, making you more fearful. Grief causes exhaustion, both mental and physical. Your memory suffers, your sleep is disrupted, your blood pressure can rise, your whole being is affected.
How has it affected me? I either don’t sleep or sleep too much. When I wake up, I’m exhausted and I remember that Billy is gone, and I have to force myself to get up. I’m depressed. I am still working full time but I take no pleasure in my work now. It’s just something else I have to endure. No one tells you that you’ll stop cooking and live on snacks. I even used to cook for our dog, a meat & veggie dish we called “Emmy stew” every few days to use as the bulk of her diet. Now I can’t bear to make the stew, so many memories of Billy mixed up in the process. I eat a lot of ice cream.
The loneliness is the worst. You go from being a partner, loved and treasured, to being alone. Overnight. No transition, no weaning, just in a marriage one day to being a widow. There’s no one who knows your history, your stories, like he did. No one who knows how really beautiful you once were, how cool you were. What your early struggles were like, stretching money, having fun doing things that cost nothing, struggling with infants and toddlers while juggling work and trying to find 10 seconds where you were both awake to be together. And loving life, loving each other.
Someone told me I needed “to get back into my routine.” That it would help. There is no routine. Everything is different now, irrevocably. When I go to work, it’s not the same because I’m not the same. No one can understand unless they’ve experienced it, and I wish this on no one.
Tonight, after work I’ll go to the store and then go home to our, no, my dog, Emmy. I’ll force myself to make some food, and I’ll eat unhealthy things. I’ll sit in front of the TV and distract myself from my life. I’ll make lists of all the myriad things I still have to take care of because my husband died. I’ll cry and before I go to sleep I’ll look at his side of the bed. Empty. And then Day +41 will end.
A Little Bit of Everything, With Love 