Grief in General

It Bothers Me When

It bothers me when.

It bothers me when: I get introduced to someone as John. And there is no Michelle. That, in itself, is a moment of Hell.

It bothers me when: They think that I am a single man. Because I am not. I was wed. And she is dead.

It bothers me when: Monday. And Tuesday. Who am I kidding. It’s the rest of the week too. Her absence is felt. In everything that I do.

It bothers me when: Happy couples. And their normal life. I can’t describe. Just how much I miss my wife.

It bothers me when: Holidays. When she is not there. Such a harsh reality. It doesn’t seem fair.

It bothers me when: The sun is out. Or rain is there. When snow fills the ground. No matter what the weather. The world feels bare.

It bothers me when: I think of the past. The love that we shared. I pleaded with God. To let her be spared.

It bothers me when: People judge our pain. They think we are weak. Their ignorance. A disgraceful shame.

It bothers me when: Fifty years. That is what is was supposed to be. I loved her so much. And she so loved me.

It bothers me when: EVERY DAY. Yes. The good ones too. I only wish good for people. But you’ll never understand. Unless it happens to you.

© Copyright 2017 John Polo

7 thoughts on “It Bothers Me When

  1. This is exactly how I feel. I lost my husband in December 2016 to cancer. He was only 39 years old. I am in the process of reading your blogs and it’s nice to hear how people can relate to me. Thanks!

    1. I too lost my husband to cancer on August 15, 2016. It still hurts tremendously 😢 34th wedding anniversary was December 10th. As far as I’m concerned, we are still married. I don’t know how long to recovering from this loss, but I do pray that it gets easier…not there yet😢😢

  2. John,
    Thank you for being so open in sharing your story. I discovered your blog rather accidentally, from an article talking about a post that someone else wrote about responses to Patton Oswald’s recent engagement after his wife died, and that blogger tagged your “Sit Down and Shut up” post. And so now I am here, reading your posts and for the first time finally having found someone else who has/is in the same emotional places I have been.

    I met my wife in 2010 through a mutual friend. She was an elusive beauty- a harpist working on her doctorate, who grew up in the town I had moved to and so was only around every so often. We met for coffee or whatever when she came back to town, and eventually she moved back in with her parents as she sought employment opportunities. When I met her, she had already been through 23 months of cancer treatment as a 20 year old and came out the other side. Ridiculously strong and talented, you would never have known that anything had happened to her.

    Trying to keep this brief. . . our relationship got serious over the next couple years. We got engaged May 4, 2013, a couple months after celebrating her five years “no more cancer-versary.” While both of us recognized that there would be some quality of life issues we would deal with (the chemo probably had rendered her unable to have children, she had a hip replaced at 25 because the steroids caused necrosis, and so on), we certainly didn’t expect that November to have them discover a tumor on her sternum of the cancer returning.

    We quickly changed life plans, moved our wedding to fit it in the least heavy treatment window. We got married February 15, 2014. The plan was to eventually have her go through a bone marrow transplant, which ended up happening May 1st of that year. That was the beginning of the end, though we didn’t know that at the time. In January she contracted a fungal infection that her weakened immune system could not combat even with all the drugs in the world, and February 2, 2015, two weeks before our first anniversary, Camz passed away. She was 28.

    To read some of your reflections. . . the feeling when the cancer patient, the person you are caring for, trying to be strong, is suddenly comforting you even though they are the one facing death. . . our wives were amazing people.

    And this post in particular has struck me between the eyes this evening. “It bothers me when: They think that I am a single man. Because I am not. I was wed. And she is dead.” “It bothers me when: Happy couples. And their normal life. I can’t describe. Just how much I miss my wife.” Really I could probably quote all of these. . . those feelings are so real to me.

    So thank you. Thank you for baring your soul in words. You are not alone in this. . . thank you for showing me that.

    1. Thank you Ben. For sharing your story and for the kind words. I am so sorry you lost your wife. Follow me my widower FB page and let’s keep in touch as we live through this unasked for journey.

  3. “It bothers me when: They think that I am a single man. Because I am not. I was wed. And she is dead.” Although I guess the law says differently, as far as I am concerned I am still wed. I still wear my wedding ring. I wear my wife’s on a chain around my neck.

    I decided to see a grief counselor a few months after my wife passed away because the grief of losing her after 33 years was simple overwhelming me. On the second visit the counselor asked me if I had thought about remarrying or even dating. I thought that was the stupidest thing anyone has said to me in quite some time. I politely said no I have not considered that as I am still married and never returned to her office.

    So many of the things you write about John are so close to home for me it is amazing. Please keep up the good work.

  4. Feeling all those same things. This morning i woke up not caring if i lived or died. Ill try to get through another impossible day. Thanks for your posts John.

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