My husband has been gone for 6 years and I've variously tried to arrange things for that day. I have also just found it "easier" to be on my own and just let whatever emotions come over me happen. Spending it with someone means you have to manage how you're feeling, put a brave face on. Thank you for this writing and for sharing it with us. X
Reading this makes me tearful Poorna, I am so sorry for your loss. Grief is so unpredictable, I lost two baby girls years ago and their death days are so hard to navigate. The time of year September to November have always been a struggle for me, though it is easier these days, less overwhelming almost twenty/seventeen years on. I mark it with flowers and candles, and usually spend it alone because it isn’t something people can understand or share in. I’m also a psychotherapist, and my experiences have made me so much more understanding of those of us who find ourselves on the outside of things, for whatever reason. Thank you for sharing your grief story. 💛
I love the way you captured the mercurial character of grief. And the understanding that “grief has a timeline our mortal brains don’t fully understand”. This resonates deeply with me. I am truly sorry for your loss. ❤️
I’m so sorry for your loss and that you’re having a difficult death day this year. 🫶🏻
I loved this line: “It is us, the ones who are left behind, the ones who shine that love through the windows in the hope that the dead might see it, from wherever they are.”
I lost my father in February and a close family friend in January. And my grandfather a few years before. With my Dad, it hit hard and I still talk to him (despite not being religious) in the hopes that he can hear how much I miss him. 🥰
That is so beautiful Poorna, thank you. I sent this to my sister who lost her teenage son not so long ago. It’s romantic, gracious, kind and wistful - those nine years of distance offers a glimpse into a a future living with loss x
Poorna, what can I say? I was married for forty-three years to a man who died exactly one year and one month ago today. I find solace and community on Substack. I learn from others to expect the unexpected. Still, the journey is solitary. You’ve told your story with grace and wisdom. Your honesty and exquisite writing will be with me forever. Beautiful beyond words.
It will be 3 years in August since my husband died. The first two death anniversaries were okay; dissociated from grief was the only way I was able to continue living. I know this year will be harder as I've broken the spell, opening the door to grief, my arms spread wide in a show of welcoming.
I wrote today about secondary losses, specifically the loss of, or shift in, relationships as a result of our person's death. Most non-grievers (dare I say "civilians" 🤣), focus on the primary loss, unaware that the seeds of grief have taken root, weaving themselves into every aspect of our lives.
We are not the same people, our priorities reordered, our values cemented by the all consuming presence of their absence. Our friends and family, the people we love, often have a vested interest in us remaining the same, but we've become the renegades, the truth tellers, the unpredictables, the "downers".
The relationship with my son has changed for better and worse, as it should between the ages of 9-12. Without my husband to hold my had through puberty and teenage angst, I carry the burden of sadness for what was and pride for what will be alone.
Surviving, perhaps thriving, through grief is understanding the duality in life. Two opposing feelings can, and do, exist simultaneously. My greatest joy is also my greatest sorrow, but for now, I choose to pour my homeless love back into myself, because no one is coming to save me.
You've described it spot on. It doesn't matter if I had no calendar. Its the angle of the sun, the smell wafting off the lavender in late august that heralds the day for me. I'm almost 30 years out, and the death day still has the same impact. Thanks for reminding me that I'm not alone in this.
I have had to stop the analysis of my grief and stop the explaining even to myself. it just is. A reminder that I love and was loved but now the love is lonely.
Grief follows its own path. We travel the path our own way in our own time, and it hits you at the most unexpected times and in the most unexpected way. Thank you Poorna we need to discuss grief. There is no other emotion like it. ❤️❤️❤️
Much love and gratitude to Mary Roblyn for sharing this; connecting us, Poorna. My heart hurts for you…I know this exactly and I know how it creeps into joy when we least expect it. It’ll be eleven years this August and his death day one week after our anniversary date. August is hard.
You’ve written this so beautifully and truthfully… I can feel your sadness. Sadness lies just beneath our days and months and years of carrying on. I just wrote another grief piece about saying his name. I think writing too much about grief gets old, matters less as someone just facing it now. I hope you’ll connect with those of us …widows supporting widows. It helps and heals to read and write about our loss. Thank you for sharing this. Sending you hugs and peace as Rob’s day draws near. 💜🫶🤗🙏💜🙏🫶
Thank you for sharing this post with everyone. I too stopped sharing my partner’s death. Grief is an ongoing experience, related to and of therefore inclusive of the soul , and emotion of the human experience. ❤️🙏😊
As others have said, thanks for articulating what so many of us struggle to understand and cope with, I lost a dear friend two years ago in January, thought it wouldn’t hurt as much as the loss of family, just wasn’t prepared when it hurt so much. As I age and the number of lost grow, it gets heavier, miss them more if possible.
My husband has been gone for 6 years and I've variously tried to arrange things for that day. I have also just found it "easier" to be on my own and just let whatever emotions come over me happen. Spending it with someone means you have to manage how you're feeling, put a brave face on. Thank you for this writing and for sharing it with us. X
Reading this makes me tearful Poorna, I am so sorry for your loss. Grief is so unpredictable, I lost two baby girls years ago and their death days are so hard to navigate. The time of year September to November have always been a struggle for me, though it is easier these days, less overwhelming almost twenty/seventeen years on. I mark it with flowers and candles, and usually spend it alone because it isn’t something people can understand or share in. I’m also a psychotherapist, and my experiences have made me so much more understanding of those of us who find ourselves on the outside of things, for whatever reason. Thank you for sharing your grief story. 💛
I love the way you captured the mercurial character of grief. And the understanding that “grief has a timeline our mortal brains don’t fully understand”. This resonates deeply with me. I am truly sorry for your loss. ❤️
I’m so sorry for your loss and that you’re having a difficult death day this year. 🫶🏻
I loved this line: “It is us, the ones who are left behind, the ones who shine that love through the windows in the hope that the dead might see it, from wherever they are.”
I lost my father in February and a close family friend in January. And my grandfather a few years before. With my Dad, it hit hard and I still talk to him (despite not being religious) in the hopes that he can hear how much I miss him. 🥰
Beautiful words as usual.
That is so beautiful Poorna, thank you. I sent this to my sister who lost her teenage son not so long ago. It’s romantic, gracious, kind and wistful - those nine years of distance offers a glimpse into a a future living with loss x
🥺♥️ beautiful and heart breaking, thanks for sharing Poorna x
Poorna, what can I say? I was married for forty-three years to a man who died exactly one year and one month ago today. I find solace and community on Substack. I learn from others to expect the unexpected. Still, the journey is solitary. You’ve told your story with grace and wisdom. Your honesty and exquisite writing will be with me forever. Beautiful beyond words.
It will be 3 years in August since my husband died. The first two death anniversaries were okay; dissociated from grief was the only way I was able to continue living. I know this year will be harder as I've broken the spell, opening the door to grief, my arms spread wide in a show of welcoming.
I wrote today about secondary losses, specifically the loss of, or shift in, relationships as a result of our person's death. Most non-grievers (dare I say "civilians" 🤣), focus on the primary loss, unaware that the seeds of grief have taken root, weaving themselves into every aspect of our lives.
We are not the same people, our priorities reordered, our values cemented by the all consuming presence of their absence. Our friends and family, the people we love, often have a vested interest in us remaining the same, but we've become the renegades, the truth tellers, the unpredictables, the "downers".
The relationship with my son has changed for better and worse, as it should between the ages of 9-12. Without my husband to hold my had through puberty and teenage angst, I carry the burden of sadness for what was and pride for what will be alone.
Surviving, perhaps thriving, through grief is understanding the duality in life. Two opposing feelings can, and do, exist simultaneously. My greatest joy is also my greatest sorrow, but for now, I choose to pour my homeless love back into myself, because no one is coming to save me.
You've described it spot on. It doesn't matter if I had no calendar. Its the angle of the sun, the smell wafting off the lavender in late august that heralds the day for me. I'm almost 30 years out, and the death day still has the same impact. Thanks for reminding me that I'm not alone in this.
I have had to stop the analysis of my grief and stop the explaining even to myself. it just is. A reminder that I love and was loved but now the love is lonely.
Grief follows its own path. We travel the path our own way in our own time, and it hits you at the most unexpected times and in the most unexpected way. Thank you Poorna we need to discuss grief. There is no other emotion like it. ❤️❤️❤️
Much love and gratitude to Mary Roblyn for sharing this; connecting us, Poorna. My heart hurts for you…I know this exactly and I know how it creeps into joy when we least expect it. It’ll be eleven years this August and his death day one week after our anniversary date. August is hard.
You’ve written this so beautifully and truthfully… I can feel your sadness. Sadness lies just beneath our days and months and years of carrying on. I just wrote another grief piece about saying his name. I think writing too much about grief gets old, matters less as someone just facing it now. I hope you’ll connect with those of us …widows supporting widows. It helps and heals to read and write about our loss. Thank you for sharing this. Sending you hugs and peace as Rob’s day draws near. 💜🫶🤗🙏💜🙏🫶
Your courage; honored ❤️
Thank you for sharing this post with everyone. I too stopped sharing my partner’s death. Grief is an ongoing experience, related to and of therefore inclusive of the soul , and emotion of the human experience. ❤️🙏😊
This was so very beautiful. Thank you for sharing something so tender.
As others have said, thanks for articulating what so many of us struggle to understand and cope with, I lost a dear friend two years ago in January, thought it wouldn’t hurt as much as the loss of family, just wasn’t prepared when it hurt so much. As I age and the number of lost grow, it gets heavier, miss them more if possible.