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Tag: grief

  • Someone, the Champlain Towers South

    Someone, the Champlain Towers South

    With the tragedy in Surfside, I could not stop thinking of the word “someone.” So many someones who were lost. I thought of how these people were doing normal things all day long that day and as I read the tributes to those who have been discovered and are still missing, I pooled the things that were said about these dear people to write this essay. 

    On the day before the building came crashing down with hell’s fury in the deep of night, it was a day like any other–a day someone did what someone does when mercifully unaware that someone’s end is near.

    Someone talked to friends. Cassie Billedeau-Stratton talked to her husband from the fourth floor. Michael Altman talked to his son. Anastasia Gromova talked to her mother. “I love you,” she told her. Someone talked to a brother, a sister, an uncle the day before the building came crashing down. 

    Someone watched the sunset on the watery horizon and sighed a prayer to God. Magaly Elena Delgado gazed at the ocean she had dreamed of living near, breathing in its salty air for the last time. 

    Someone played cards. Someone shopped online. Someone finished a book while someone else started one. Someone wrote a letter. 

    Someone read the Torah. Someone read the Bible. Someone read the Koran. Hilda Noriega clutched the Rosary as the building came crashing down.

    Someone cooked Ropa Vieja, someone ate Gallo Pinto, and someone swallowed the last spoonful of Sopa Paraguaya. Someone fed their children Dulce de Leche and someone braided an exquisite Challah loaf as she had so many times before. 

    A world of smells wafted from kitchens the day before the building came crashing down.  

    Someone was the world to her family. 

    Someone helped a neighbor. Someone said good morning and someone said good night. Antonio and Gladys Lozano had dinner with their son and kissed him goodbye, not knowing it would be their last before the building came crashing down.

    Someone teased his wife. Someone argued. Someone made up. Someone hugged his loved ones tightly. Someone made love. 

    Someone paid bills while someone fried an egg. Someone folded laundry. Someone shined the windows that would shatter into a million pieces when the building came crashing down.

    Someone waited for test results. Someone hoped for a miracle. Ilan Naibryf and Deborah Berezdivin attended a friend’s funeral the day before the building came crashing down. 

    Someone watched her wedding video. Ruslan Manashirov and Nicole Doran-Manashirov wrote thank you notes that would never be sent. Gladys and Antonio Lozano planned their 59th anniversary party. Someone longed for her late husband the day before the building came crashing down.

    Someone beamed with pride because of her children, her grandchildren, her great-grandchildren. Judy Spiegel ordered a dress for her granddaughter while someone looked forward to his first grandchild. 

    Someone rocked a baby, inhaling the sweet smell of freshly washed hair. Aishani Gia Patel crawled across a solid floor that would disappear beneath her. Her parents chose a name for their unborn baby for a lifetime that was not to be. Someone kissed a child goodnight the day before the building came crashing down.

    Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep; If I should die before I ‘wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take.

    Someone slept soundly. Someone tossed and turned. 

    Someone heard creaking noises the day before the building came crashing down.

    Someone felt the building sway.

    Someone saw a crack opening up.

    Someone felt the wind.

    Someone–

      

    Sources: https://www.local10.com/news/local/2021/06/28/stories-of-surfside-condo-victims-identified-life-of-the-party/

    https://www.cnn.com/2021/06/24/us/miami-building-collapse-victims-missing/index.html

    https://abcnews.go.com/US/victims-surfside-condo-collapse/story?id=78517075 

  • To the Widow Whose Husband Died Suddenly and Unexpectedly

    To the Widow Whose Husband Died Suddenly and Unexpectedly

    My husband died suddenly and unexpectedly on our trip to Alaska. If your husband died suddenly and unexpectedly also, I’m so sorry for your loss. I was 43 when my husband and the father of our three children was killed in a tragic snowmobile accident.

    One moment we were saying “I love you” and enjoying the day…the next he was gone. The shock was as palpable as being slammed against a wall.

    I don’t pretend to know what you’re feeling or experiencing. I do, however, know that your sudden grief is different from a wife’s grief who’s lost her husband to a long-term illness. If I can be so bold, I’d like to share with you some things I experienced that you also might experience at some point. If you don’t experience these things, that’s because your grief is going to be as unique as you are.

    Every morning is a reminder…for a time. In the first few weeks that you awaken each day, you will experience the reminder that your husband is gone over and over again. You will awaken and for a few brief moments, you will have forgotten. Then the dawning will fall on you and your heart will break anew. I spent so many mornings crumpled by the sadness of coming face to face with his death almost as if it were the first time. This “twilight grief” will go away. I don’t know how long it will be, but by God’s grace…you will not hurt as much as you do now.

    The pain will subside…I promise. While you won’t hurt as much as you do now, you may find as I did that there’s comfort in the hurting. Somehow the grief seems to draw us nearer to our husband. And the day you realize that your cloud of grief is somehow lifting may bring another kind of grief. You realize that as much as you want to stop hurting, the sadness continues to bond you to your husband. And you’re afraid to move away from your husband by getting better. But get better you must.

    You’ll long for him. No marriage is perfect, but you and your husband chose marriage continuously. Through all the ups and downs, you hung in there and bravely chose commitment Every.Single.Day. Death took that away from you. You didn’t want to stop being a wife, a lover, a best friend, a companion. It was ripped from you suddenly and you’re left longing. Longing for his smell…his touch…his voice. Aching to make love again. To feel his body against yours. You will ache for him.

    You will ache to be touched. So be touched. Get your hair done often. Get manicures, pedicures, massages. Your need for human touch must be met so pay someone for appropriate touch. It’s what I did and it helped me navigate the skin hunger of losing my husband.

    Loss will deliver compassion for others. Losing my husband suddenly and unexpectedly, along with the shock of grief that came with it taught me to never judge how someone grieves. After Mike’s death, I had family members who went off the deep end of alcohol abuse and negative choices after losing their spouses. And I got it. I understood that they were doing WHATEVER it took to soothe their pain. And the truth is I probably would have done the same things if I hadn’t had three children and a Christian reputation to protect that gave me boundaries. Soon after my husband’s death, I saw a post from a Christian widower who said he was having sex with women and detested himself. I got it. It’s very hard to judge another’s grief after ramming headfirst into a husband’s sudden death. It hurts so much.

    Do whatever you need to do to feel better…with boundaries. Listening to the loudest rock music soothed my angry spirit for awhile. Weeping as I watched episodes of “A Wedding Story” helped at other times. Shopping, redecorating, taking classes, reading voraciously…they all had their place in my grief journey. For a time. Support groups didn’t help me, but that’s just me. I felt propelled to move from the “camp of death” and to pursue life. My children needed that from me.

    The best advice I got after Mike died was just “to be.” To be present with myself. Be present with my grief. Be present with God as He lovingly carried my children and me through such deep loss. Listen to your spirit and do what soothes you. Avoid the “shoulds” right now. Avoid the people who all of a sudden want to become your friend to support you. You don’t have the energy for new friendships. Just be with those who have loved you before this day.

    The worst advice? “Make sure you grieve.” Make sure I grieve? As if there’s any other choice? Give me a break. The people who give you this advice don’t realize that his absence lurks in every word, every song, every thought….every single day. You will cry in the strangest places. I sobbed while buying new tires, while watching my kids play, while waiting for coffee, when I saw a man who reminded me of Mike…the list goes on. You will cry a lot. And that’s from someone who didn’t cry much before.

    Talk about him. You will need to talk about your husband a lot. Cling to friends who are willing to hear the same stories again and again…until you’re ready to stop telling them. My daughter shared a memory of her father with a friend who told her, “You’ve told me that before.” I gently pulled the friend aside and told her that she’s really the only one my daughter was talking to about her dad. And she may need to tell the same story more than once.

    Your loss will never be over. You will grieve the loss of future anniversaries. You will grieve his absence at your children’s weddings and the birth of their children. You will grieve at small times that he would’ve been there and big times that his absence is glaring. You will grieve throughout the rest of your life, but the pain will subside. That’s God’s grace to us. Even when your husband died suddenly and unexpectedly.

    Grow deeper with God. And, finally, if you’re a woman of faith, you already know the goodness and grace of our loving God who is walking through the valley of the shadow of death with you. You already know the peace that passes understanding, because you know there is no reason on earth that you have this much peace with so much loss. And for that, I’m very grateful for you. It is only by God’s grace and mercy that the human spirit can survive such loss even without a relationship with God. I believe, though, that the way is much smoother when we are carried by faith and a relationship with God.

    If your husband died suddenly and unexpectedly, you will feel like you will never survive it. You will wonder how you can make it through one more day. You will stare into a future void of him and shudder.

    But you will get better. You will always miss him, but you won’t always hurt like you do now. You will always long for him, but you won’t always ache. You will get better because get better you must.