I lost my wife to cancer last year; she was 46. She was my best friend, lover, my son’s mom and one of the greatest people whom I’ve ever known. Q
It is a surreal experience. For me it started as shock. I did not eat a meal for almost two months. Lots of people were around and I kept busy doing random things. Then people go away and the random tasks are done, and it’s quiet and strange.
I chose to move forward, focusing on my son, fitness (I started running), we did a charity drive in her honor, and we focused on being more social. I have a boy to take care of and responsibilities to be met - but I think this transition is where many grieving people fall into trouble.
I’ve lost my dad and my grandmother, both of whom I was very close to. But this hit different.
This column, “No Love is Ever Wasted”, captured my feelings well in a unique way.
I lost my dad over a decade ago which I was close too, and a couple of years later broke up with my SO which I'd been with for well over a decade at that point.
While nowhere close to your experience, that weird emptyness sounded very familiar. Coming home from work, eating dinner alone and then just "ok, now what?". Suddenly the days seemed to have so many more hours to fill.
And that feeling when you had some fun or nice experience and you just want to share and pick up the phone only to go "oh... right". I still get that with my dad, and it still hits hard.
Her take on it was that she had hope and a chance with metastatic melanoma because she was standing on the shoulders of those before her. Basically, she had a 60/40 chance of 5 year survival. 10 years ago, it was zero.
Now, there’s a variety of new treatments in trial that will make the chances for future patients much better… there’s a customized Moderna vaccine and other immunotherapies on the horizon.
"Grief, I've learned, is really just love. It's all the love you want to give, but cannot. All that unspent love gathers up in the corners of your eyes, the lump in your throat, and in that hollow part of your chest. Grief is just love with no place to go."
Jamie Anderson
Felix Revello de Toro - Woman, 1965
Beautiful and very True. And the worst thing is you really cannot share it with anyone, it is just too personal. There is also a real danger that this can seek outlet via anger against close folks/circumstances/world in general.
It has been a little over a year and half since i lost my Mother(i spent the last decade living with/taking care of her) and the grief is still there. I cannot show it (because i am a "Man"), don't know how to process and deal with it but am only trusting to the passage of time to help me forget. "Human Bonding" is not mere words but is really something strong. I used to poo-poo at all sentimental emotions but now i know better through experience.
This is brilliant. And it also illuminates how it can turn into something deeply maladaptive and self-destructive when we cling too hard to something that's passed or will eventually pass, when we define ourselves too much by that which we love or are loved.
It reminds me of all the times when I was young where I thought I was deeply in love, but really I was just in love with the feeling of being loved and accepted. And my grief when that was gone was love that I could've directed towards myself where it should've gone. It took until my 30s when I realized I could provide the love that I'd been missing all my life, and only then could I be in love in a way that wasn't suffocating and borne of fear.
Having lost both parents young, all my grandparents and a spouse... years and years ago, and a brother who is alive but is lost to mental torment from fighting his grief... and I'm not even 40 yet.
Calling grief maladaptive seems deeply wrong, while I both grieved and persevered through the loss and have been financially successful and am "well adjusted" and "successful" by any external observers measure, I do not think I would judge myself or anyone else who was pulled into the abyss by grief, I still doubt if living with grief was even the right choice, though I am glad I ended up in a mental state where I retained my volition to make the choice.
Loss is loss, a person who has part of their brain removed, their heart damaged so it barely pumps enough oxygen, their limbs lost or kidneys damaged... their inability to function or find joy, meaning or energy in life would never be judged as maladaptive.
I persist, that is true, but I see no moral or emotional difference between my functioning and if I was non functioning. I so repeatedly see people discount grief, mental trauma and other forms of true tangible loss as if was somehow different from other types of physical loss, but it isn't.
To call it an inability to adapt to loss is one thing, just as a head without a body could not open a door with our current technology, but I would humbly suggest that it is too far too call it maladaptive.
I loved every person I lost, due to my age for my parents I was quite literally dependent on them, and the sheer force of will required and personal self subjugation I cannot clearly say was worth it, After all, I've never met an unhappy, struggling or grief stricken man in the ashes of an urn. Loss is loss, it is as real as a limb or organ lost.
We all have different experiences, but just some thoughts to consider.
I appreciate this quote, but after looking into it, I must offer some correction regarding attribution.
Félix Revello de Toro is a Spanish artist born in 1926. He specializes in portraits of women, including a 1965 one depicting a woman curled up on a chair with her head tilted down so as to permit her long black hair to hang down and obscure her face.
Jamie Anderson is the author of the blog "All My Loose Ends". The quote in question is an amalgamation of excerpts from a 2014 blog entry about loss:
"It seems to me, that if we love, we grieve. That’s the deal. That’s the pact. Grief and love are forever intertwined. Grief is the terrible reminder of the depths of our love and, like love, grief is non-negotiable."
Never seen this before, as a person who has grieved considerably but won't/doesn't read grief literature.
I came to the conclusion years ago that grief is just unexpressed, unshareable, uncommunicable, thwarted love. It's all the love I cannot give, all the words and touches and moments that fail to alight on the one I love but instead, missing its intended, affix me to the void.
So not merely entwined, I think grief is love itself unsatisfied.
That’s so accurate. I think of it as something that happens to you. Grief comes for you, often when you least expect it. It’s a trap door you didn’t know you were standing on.
Mourning, however, is active. It’s a choice to turn and face your loss. Grief is your body telling you that you aren’t doing enough to mourn.
> “I love talking about her, by the way, so if I cry, it’s only a beautiful thing,” Garfield explained. “This is all the unexpressed love, the grief that will remain with us until we pass because we never get enough time with each other, no matter if someone lives till 60, 15, or 99.”
“So I hope this grief stays with me because it’s all the unexpressed love that I didn’t get to tell her,” he added. “And I told her every day. We all told her every day. She was the best of us.”
Good quality information in there, saying this after years of trying to overcome a lot of stuff and never really finding anything of value. This was interesting. Hope others find some help in it.
ps: I always assumed that grieving is supposed to be done with others, they buffer the loss, share it with you and make your future make sense because your pain is not unheard and thus your emotional self is somehow intact and allowed to be. Without this you may end up as a fake shell unable to find any form of true connection since you've been alienated at your deepest moments.
The hardest part of grief for me is the guilt and the anxiety. Yeah for keeping the catholic guilt but not believing so not getting the benefit of 'universal love and forgiveness' and afterlife aspects.
I went down a rabbit hole when my mom died of theories of time not being linear just so I could take comfort in all those shared moments still happening, indefinitely.
I wonder if the reason why some people surround themselves with awful, selfish people is because it makes it easier to grieve them once they leave or pass away.
They'll say all nice things at the funeral but actually it takes no effort to hold back tears. Many people will have the opposite problem; they want to show tears for virtue-signalling purposes but find that they can't.
That would be a really weird way to actively decide to live one's limited life.
I'd say the reason is that historical relationships and connections are hard to let go and when you do (saying by moving to a new place,) you're left with whatever you end up finding.
I think it's the opposite. The thought of losing even a shitty relationship is difficult to contemplate. You get caught in a trap that's difficult to escape.
I found The Grieving Brain by Mary-Frances O'Connor really helpful. It gave me a frame for why grief is a necessary part of our brain processing the loss. It made it much easier to move through the pain.
I’ve been lost to grief for the last several months - when I realised, finally, irrevocably, that my wife was never going to recover from the mental straitjacket she is now in. That the woman I married fifteen years ago no longer exists.
Backstory: She went to hospital one day in March last year, she had hyponatremia (low sodium) and they gave her saline solution roughly twice as fast as recommended - they wanted to turn beds you see, like a restaurant turns tables, hospitals are run for profit. She went into a coma, resurfaced a couple of days later, and then they discharged her as fast as humanly possible - oh you can’t walk now, but you’ll be fine in a week or so, they lied. I used to think that having “excellent” insurance would cover me and mine, but it’s not the case. Insurance just pays when something is available to be paid for. When the hospital decide their time is more important than your life, well, you lose. And you lose big.
Since then, and never once before, she has had a smorgasbord of mental problems, but since January, it’s mainly been crippling fear and paranoia. She thought people were in the house, that the dog was a robot spy, that I was dead and replaced by an AI. She’s convinced she’s going to be dismembered by “them” at night, and that she’ll be dragged off to “a hearing” to determine her fate. She is not getting better.
I have lost the light of my life, and in doing so, feel lost myself. Purposeless. Dead-man-walking. I break down in tears, uncontrollably, randomly. I sometimes wish I were dead, except then who would look after our son ? So I live. I have learnt to live with overwhelming sadness, to present a mask to the world, to cope. Badly, but better than not being there for him at all.
I phone her, every night. Now that she’s been moved closer (30 mins away, she used to be 3 hours away) it’s possible to visit in the week - in fact I’ll be going tonight, not just at weekends. But that just rips open the suppurating wound and adds a fresh layer of salt. To see her. Like this. A woman who did a joint JD/MBA, reduced to this.
I have tried therapy to try and sort myself out, but what use is therapy against the harsh reality of what has happened, what will continue to happen, what cannot be escaped from. What use is talking against brain damage ? How does talking about it change reality. It can’t. It won’t. What has been written on steel cannot be erased, consequences, like us, be damned.
I will not desert my wife - no matter what hardship I feel, for her it is thousands of times worse. She has periods of lucidity when she knows the agony of all she has lost, when she talks, wistfully, of how she always saw herself growing old together, bickering like only old, married couples do - and not locked on a ward put on a cocktail of drugs that keep her sleepy and docile. I am her only contact with the outside world, and she needs that. She will have it. So I force a brave cheer, and talk to her for the allotted 30 minutes, and her life is not quite so dreadful for that short period.
This is what I can do, but the toll is terrible. I walk out of that pleasant ward with my soul in ribbons, trying to pull myself together for the short but intense drive home. It is what I can do, it is not enough, but it is what I can do for her.
I am flying my son to the UK this weekend because he deserves some time in a house that isn’t as dreary and doom-laden as his own. I can’t stay because I need to be near her so she doesn't think I've left her. I can't take the time off work anyway because they’re busy, and I need my job to fund her healthcare, so I’ll catch the next flight back and repeat the task in a couple of weeks. It’s a long flight, but he’s looking forward to the adventure. For me, it’s just another nail in the coffin - not being able to provide for him as I ought to be able to, but misery is not a zero-sum game, he’ll enjoy the time away, and that is enough.
Grief is heavier than a mountain, it sits on your shoulders, and weighs you down in everything you do, or fail to do. Grief that won’t fade with time, that is renewed each evening, and twice per week in person, is not anything I would wish on my worst enemy. I sincerely hope no-one that has read this far (or anyone else for that matter) ever suffers like she, or like me.
Hey, I read the whole thing. A random internet stranger like me can only say I'm sorry for what you all are going through. I think your writing can only help people like me appreciate what we have and not take the people around us for granted. I can't help you at all even by writing. Like you said, what use is therapy and talking. But you've helped me by writing this, if only just a bit.
If you can make room in your life, get a dog. They are emotionally infectious animals, and generally seem to have an endorphin firehose soaking their brains most of the time. Taking care of a dog, walking it (exercise is really important) and generally interacting with it can help amelerioate your grief. Your son might respond well to it also.
Kind of sounds stupid (I'm not a dog person) but I've seen it work and result in rewarding relationships (and, more grief when the animal dies, but that's an inevitable consequence of love).
Thank you - we do have a dog, a 5 year old bundle of pure happiness from Newfoundland. As I type, she's snoring away on my bed to the left of me. I find the time I take to walk her every day precious, because I don't have to wear any mask, it's just me. It's hard to describe the freedom that brings, even if temporary.
Deeply, deeply, deeply understood. And thank you on behalf of life for shouldering what you do, with thanks for telling of it so that I could see in your words that… you already understand. A story untold.
And. For a lack of better words: I am so, so sorry for what you and yours have been through.
I'm deeply sorry for what happened to your wife, and what you, your son and family have been through. And thank you for sharing your story; I see you, and wish you have the strength to continue moving forward, and supporting your loved ones.
I'm a random stranger on the internet, and don't want to suggest hope for recovery, but I just finished reading a book (Brain Energy, [1]) that presents a very convincing theory that may explain the cause for most/all mental disorders, and its link to metabolism and mitochondrial dysfunction. There has been many studies in this area for decades, but the way he connected the dots and presented the unifying theory felt like a breakthrough.
It probably doesn't apply to the trauma your wife went through, but it doesn't hurt to check if some of the techniques can improve a bit her quality of life. There's so much unknown about how the brain works, and its shocking to realize that most of current treatments for mental disorders by our so-called "medical experts" are, at best, trial-and-error.
Unrelated, but another book that comes to mind is Solve for Happy [2], by Mo Gowdat. I know it's difficult to talk about happiness given what you're going through, but Mo's story of grief and choice may help you find some comfort as you decide how to move forward.
I had an experience that lasted for a year before ending (with a bad outcome) that sounds emotionally very similar and I had broken heart syndrome for part of that time.
You two are dealing with a misfortune that is one of the greatest evils that can befall a person.
I'm terribly sorry, words are insufficient I know.
I honestly had no idea about the dangers of something so seemingly banal as saline solution being administered too quickly. Your comment made me read into it and yes, the reality is quite surprising, and scary. The strange thing is that higher concentration solution isn't so much a problem as administration speed for a given volume.
In any case, thank you for helping at least this one person learn about a danger they never would have expected if they're ever in a hospital, and I sincerely hope your wife comes back to her self over time. From what I've gone on to read, a certain high percentage of sufferers of Central pontine myelinolysis (if that's what you're describing) do eventually recover for the most part over the course of months.
I know you’re not after any advice and I don’t want to get your hopes up in any way. But I do hear about brain damage due to hyponatremia & subsequent improper sodium infusions somewhat frequently as I’m part of a diabetes insipidus medical group & this is a potential reality everybody taking Desmopressin faces.
I have seen a decent amount of anecdotal reporting of people stabilizing/recovering their cognition to some meaningful degree after a few years from the injury.
Thank you. At the moment I'm clutching at any straw I can find. I'll take some solace that it might turn out better, and I'll watch for it, but I'm not in any position to pin hopes as yet - that way would lie disaster, I think.
Maybe you can try alternative medicine like ayurveda. Recently I heard an amazing podcast [0] with Dr. Rakesh in which he talked about regenerating neurons etc with Ayurveda. His contact details are in the video description.
To add on, cerebrolysin and methylene blue are sometimes helpful with brain function (the former specifically after TBIs). Various nootropic forums (I'm aware of reddit's ones) may be able to offer more possible solutions. And of course speak with your doctor first before starting anything new.
I can talk with her psychiatrist, but she is on a strict regimen of drugs in the facility - and in my experience doctors are reticent to accept medical info from laymen (reasonably so, under most circumstances).
Nonetheless, thank you, I will watch the video and maybe ask the doctor what she thinks.
I felt sad for her father's death but then didn't make it through the great length with which she talked about a cat that you knew was going to be dead anyways.
It is a surreal experience. For me it started as shock. I did not eat a meal for almost two months. Lots of people were around and I kept busy doing random things. Then people go away and the random tasks are done, and it’s quiet and strange.
I chose to move forward, focusing on my son, fitness (I started running), we did a charity drive in her honor, and we focused on being more social. I have a boy to take care of and responsibilities to be met - but I think this transition is where many grieving people fall into trouble.
I’ve lost my dad and my grandmother, both of whom I was very close to. But this hit different.
This column, “No Love is Ever Wasted”, captured my feelings well in a unique way.
https://www.nytimes.com/2023/03/10/style/modern-love-no-love...