The Only Person I Really Want Right Now, by Ann Suther
September 5th, 2007 by

I am a new widow – 5 weeks. People ask “How are you?” and I don’t know how to answer. “Sometimes OK, mostly NOT OK,” I respond. Many of them really don’t want to hear that answer and I know it, so I try to pretend I’m better than I really am.I keep thinking somehow life will change back to what it was, yet I know it won’t. This new life feels so strange . . . so empty . . . will my life ever feel normal again?His death was unnecessary – an undetected surgical error. This surgery was supposed to improve his health, and it killed him. I’m just starting to feel anger amid my numbness.Tears come unpredictably – sometimes I can tell this story without them, other times a quick and fleeting memory of something we shared brings on a flood.Why are there so many decisions to make and details to take care of when I feel least able? There are too many questions in my mind about how I will navigate through all that lies ahead. I know I have to give myself time, yet financial woes may not allow me the time I need.I pray for patience and for strength . . . . and thank God for loving adult children, and countless supportive friends and neighbors who are only a phone call away. Still, the only person I really want right now is the one who is gone.

3 Responses to “The Only Person I Really Want Right Now, by Ann Suther”

  1. It Will Get Different, by Maria Casey Says:

    Me, too. Since 22 February. He was diagnosed with Stage IV throat cancer in mid-December, had the best possible medical team & facilities; daily radiation and 2 chemo sessions. I went upstairs to wake him up to go to radiation and he was already gone: just the way he wanted — in his own house, in his own bed.
    I still haven’t changed his pillowcase b/c it still has some of his hair and smell.
    I have lived through his 53rd birthday, our 27th wedding anniversary, my 50th birthday and honestly do not know why I’m still here.
    I feel apart from the world and its inhabitants.
    People say, “it’ll get better.” Not for me — I already had “better;” it will get different.
    Some days, I can look at his picture without crying. Some days I can look at the folded flag on our mantle and not cry.
    I cry unpredictably and “for no reason” except that the hole in my heart, soul and life is so huge and unfillable that I can barely stand it.
    I can’t breathe because it feels like an 800-lb gorilla is sitting on my chest.
    I want to wake up from this endless pain and find out it was all a terrible dream.
    Except that every week-end his name is still carved into the niche at Arlington National Cemetery. And mine still isn’t.
    I share your pain, sense of loss and grief. I will keep you in my prayers.

  2. Angeline Wong Says:

    My husband Anthony died from a massive heart attack on 31st March 2007. He was 41 years old and I now 39 years old. Its been more than 5 months and I feel as though I am going to get a heart attack too as my chest feels like there is a rock embedded in it.I think its the hurt and pain manifested. I feel helpless and lost. Just putting up a strong front but deep within I do not know how I am going to cope.A Young widows’ website has helped a lot but I find myself lapsing into depression when I am not occupied. So I keep myself very occupied so that I wear myself out by the end of the day. I find that I can’t run away from grief: it catches up with me.

  3. Adekemi Says:

    My life was torn apart in June 30, 1998. its a long time isn’t it? but to me it’s like yesterday. I wonder why time refused to heal my wound. It is still very fresh in my heart.
    Perharps if he was ill, I would have prepared my mind, but it was so sudden. He was preparing to go to his bank work; he was very dedicated in every area of his life – a bank manager, an assisitant pastor, fervent in prayers, a father, brother and a son.
    There was fuel scarcity in my country, so we kept some in the store and he went there with a lantern and got blown up. I was the first to see him. Despite the fact that he was burned beyond recognition, my beloved husband was still praying. He fought death till that evening,when even the doctors said we shouldn’t have taken him out of the scene alive.
    I was left with two kids, ages two years and 15 months respectively, and I was just 28 years old. It’s still hard to let go, even though am making concerted efforts. The past has refused to let go. I am so scared of my health, because I want to be there for my kids. I was looking for parents for my kids in case anything happens to me so they will be well looked after. They are great kids, lovely and well brought up. I don’t want them to suffer when I am gone.
    You can’t know how it feels unless you are there. It’s not a nice thing to happen to any human being. The only hope I have is meeting him again, and honestly speaking I can’t wait to see him again. I miss him so much. Part of me has already gone with him, so if it’s true that time heals the wound, why is mine still fresh?

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