Expressions of grief, love, and support when the words won't come

Last night I spent a quiet evening alone with the pups, watching Emily in Paris.?That’s one of those shows I can watch when I’m alone and not worry about it bringing out too many emotions, in particular the sad kind.

As often (ok, always) happens when I’m watching TV in the evening, I started to feel the gentle haze of sleep sneaking up on me.?But before I was fully out, a funny scene came on and I giggled then looked over to the sofa to see if Darren was also grinning or maybe rolling his eyes like he often did when one of “my shows” was on the television.?

I don’t ever forget Darren is gone; every moment overflows with that void.?But in that second between wakefulness and sleep, for that delicious, brief moment, I expected to see him right where he’d been for so long.?By my side.

But the sofa was empty.

A week or so ago, I sat alone on a different sofa.?After three months I had found my way to a counselor with experience helping people work through their grief.??She asked me what I struggle with the most now that Darren is gone.?Strangely, I could not even put it into words because it literally felt like the answer was: EVERYTHING.?

Sometimes it’s harder than others to think on your feet.?When the emotions are so huge, sometimes there just aren’t words that seem adequate and I was in the middle of an abyss where words absolutely failed me. ?I wanted to ask her if I could write it up and get that answer to her later.?

Now, more than a week later, I think I have the answer.?Mostly, I just miss Darren’s simple presence next to me.?Knowing that he was by my side whether it was watching television or enjoying time with friends, or attending a work event.?Even when we weren’t in the same room, we texted each other or spoke several times each day.?How was your meeting??How was your walk through??How was your day??Lengthwise tonight? (Referring to our favorite Friday evening haunt.)

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At the grocery store this morning, I remembered a time about a year ago when I saw a woman shopping; someone that I didn’t know personally, but I knew who she was and I knew she had just lost her husband.?I watched her select her produce.?Apples.?Bananas. ?Lettuce. Then moving on.?My heart hurt for her and at the same time I admired her.?I thought it remarkable that she could put one foot in front of the other and take care of what normally is such a mundane task.

Today I was that woman.?Because, as a colleague in the same boat said to me recently, “What choice do I have?”?Indeed.?As I made my way through the store, I noted that it was an uncommon trip because I didn’t run into someone I know.?On the other hand, it’s highly possible that I was seen and avoided by an acquaintance or even a friend.?Over the past three months, I’ve actually watched people I know look around a nearly empty room, for example, and somehow manage not to see me.?They looked over me and around me and beyond me, but managed to not lay eyes on me. ?I get it, and I’d be lying if I said I’ve never done the same when encountering someone when I just didn’t know what to say.?

I’ve learned a lot during these months and I thought I’d share with you some of what I’ve thought were the nicest, most simple comments as I walk through the pain.?Most are very simple and won’t lead to an in-depth discussion where you will need to know “all the right words.”?A few that stand out to me include:

·?????It’s so good to see you!

·?????There really are no words, I know.

·?????I am praying for you.

·?????I wish I had known him.

·?????I wish I had known him better.

·?????--Silence with a Hug—

These are just a few of the encouraging shows of support I’ve experienced, tools I’m tucking into my own belt for future use.?And when I need these tools, when I see a hurting friend or colleague in the future, I hope I will be brave enough to step forward and to show that person that yes indeed, she is seen.

There won’t be perfect words, my friend.?Not for either of us.?But that’s ok.?