Experiencing Grief

By: Kelly Halonen, MSW, RSW

​At first, it was the crying. The hyperventilating and crying. Crying so hard that you can’t breathe. Crying so much that you wonder when you’re going to run out of tears. You can’t stop it. You just have to let it out. People try to comfort you, but them being close makes it harder to breathe. Makes you cry harder.

Then comes the tiredness and confusion. Your eyes hurt from all the crying. They feel dry and puffy. You’re exhausted and just want to sleep. But the moment you close your eyes, you see them and feel the tears again. So, you open your eyes and fight to stay awake.
 
You feel like you’re in a fog. Everything seems so confusing and unimportant. You’re just there, as time passes. You can’t do anything because you’re too tired to move. You wonder if they’re really gone or if this is just a nightmare. Then you look over to where they would sit. You can picture them being there, and then that vision fades. They really are gone.
 
It comes in waves. Something simple like a song or a saying can remind you of them and you instantly fall apart. The waves are so big and so frequent at the beginning. It’s almost unbearable. You remember the happy times, the times you regret, the last time. Everything you want to say and do with them still. You just want them to be here again. You just want to feel them.
 
In between the waves is more fog and heaviness. So much heaviness. You feel like you’re wearing a weighted blanket. On your head, your shoulders, your chest. It never seems to go away. The weight makes things hard to do. You already can’t focus but now the weight drags you down. You see all the things you should be doing and you can’t. It’s too exhausting. So, you give up and just let it be. The dishes and garbage pile up. You hope it just magically disappears. You do the bare minimum and that is exhausting.

​​Eventually, the waves begin to lessen. The episodes of crying become less frequent. And then the guilt comes on. Why am I not crying as much? I should be, I loved them. If I move on will I forget them? Will I lose my connection to them? How can I be happy without them? This all adds to the weight and exhaustion.
 
People want to help, want to make you feel better, but they can’t. You just feel like a burden. You want to be normal again but you can’t. You want to hide and be alone. But you try to fight for that connection, to do things you like, to try and feel better, even if it doesn’t work. You try to fight the depression from gripping onto you and pulling you down into a hole you’ll never get out of. But fighting is so hard, so tiring. Even if you feel yourself slipping, you try and hold onto the edge, to stay out of that hole. But it’s so hard. Would it be easier to let go?
 
You keep fighting because it’s the only way forward. No matter how much you fall in that hole, you know you can eventually climb out. You keep fighting because people are counting on you, because people care about you, because you love them. As much as it hurts, you know it will get better. You know the fog will lift, the weight will come off, and the waves will get calmer. It seems like a distant dream, but you know you can get there. You will never forget them. The tears will never leave. The hole in your heart will always be there. But you slowly begin to remember just the happy times. You remember how much you loved each other. You know that they would want you to be happy. So, you move forward for yourself, and for them. For as long as you are still here, so is their memory. Their love will always be with you.