Trials of Tears

Melancholy by Albert Gyorgy

Every day is slightly different in the way I experience my grief for my husband, Sean. 

The only 2 true constants are: 1-the weight over my heart and 2-the tears I shed daily. 

The ache, the constriction makes me forget when the last time was that I took a full, deep breath. Many days, I feel I'm just a zombie, going through the motions of responsibility, feeling almost nothing and simply shallow breathing all day. Usually, when I'm at work I barely notice anything meaningful having occurred at all the whole day, but the weight over my heart never seems to leave me.

More noticeable for me now is how often unbidden tears come. Unstoppable and often unnoticed until my face is wet and I realize I'm somewhere in public and weeping. The first time I went back to the beach to walk where Sean and I used to have 'sunset dinners' and 'sunrise coffees' together was a trial so full of memories that I absolutely expected to lose my shit then and have an exceptionally intense cry. 

However, there have been many times I have had the 'grief ambush', where tears come seemingly without provocation. I have been walking in the grocery store, when suddenly I feel the wetness on my face as I reach down to pick up pork chops. I have been in the car, listening to an audio book when a common phrase instigates weeping. I have left meetings at work, overcome with the need to stifle a sob while hiding in the ladies room. Everything and anything makes me cry.

Seeing a piece of carrot cake. Hearing a dirt bike in the distance. Driving past the Marine Corps base. Seeing an old hot rod. A commercial for a restaurant we at at. A song that was popular when we were kids. The scent of his pomade. The taste of coffee. A funny shirt I think he would like. A color. A sound. A scent. It's everything and anything that triggers tears these days. 

15 years of memories with him are locked inside my mind, body and soul. The grief has to go somewhere and it is leaking out in tears. I don't always know when and actually, most of the time I don't. Some things that I had expected to get upset by, like talking to Sean's old friends, are actually comforting and I don't have difficulty doing that. Other times, it is the moments I have to acknowledge the changes that the grief wallops me and I melt into a puddle. Grocery shopping for only foods I want and not getting his favorites is painful.  Driving past his dialysis center where we spent years going to and from his treatment just stings my eyes. 

Mostly, it's the absolute silence that makes me unravel, even just thinking about it.  He won't be calling out for me and asking for something to eat or drink. He won't be laughing with me over something silly. We won't be searching for a movie or some YouTube videos to watch. 

There it is. Here it comes. Up from the abdomen, squeezing my lungs, choking me until the tears are flowing again. Every day there are tears for Sean. Maybe for a second, a minute or an hour. When does this get easier? Does this ever get easier?  He's just gone less than 2 months and I've already cried a river, but I can't seem to fill that empty space in my heart.