Can you see the change in me? It may not be so obvious to you.
I participate in family activities. I attend family reunions. I help plan holiday meals. You tell me you’re glad to see that I don’t cry any more.
But I do cry. When everyone has gone — when it is safe — the tears fall. I cry in privacy so my family won’t worry. I cry until I am exhausted and can finally sleep.
I’m active in my church. I sing hymns. I listen to the sermon. You tell me you admire my strength and my positive attitude.
But I’m not strong. I feel that I have lost control, and I panic when I think about tomorrow … next week … next month … next year.
I go about the routine of my job. I complete my assigned tasks. I drink coffee and smile. You tell me you’re glad to see I’m “over” the death of my loved one.
But I’m not “over it”. If I get over it, I will be the same as before my loved one died. I will never be the same. At times I think I am beginning to heal, but the pain of losing someone I loved so much has left a permanent scar on my heart.
I visit my neighbors. You tell me you’re glad to see I’m holding up so well.
But I’m not holding up well. Sometimes I want to lock my door and hide from the world.
I spend time with friends. I appear calm and collected. I smile when appropriate. You tell me it’s good to see me back to my “old self.”
But I will never be back to my “old self.” Death and grief have touched my life, and I am forever changed.
By: ~Rhonda Wilson~
Asheboro, North Carolina