When Grief Knocked, I Closed the Door

That first Spring, following my husband's death, the days started to feel not so dark and dreary as Winter often does; things were settling into a new normal quite nicely, I thought. I came home from an outing one afternoon to a voicemail – a voice from the past from someone I had not spoken to in more than 15 or so years. When I was a child, about 8 years old, we started going to a small country church in Washington. We became close to a family who had three children the same ages as my siblings and me. Our families spent a lot of time together; they were like family – we loved them.

Early on, as just kids, their oldest boy and I were instant sweethearts. He was my first love from as early as I can remember. We “dated” when we came of age but in the middle of my Sophomore year of high school, after we moved to Oregon, we grew apart. 15 years later, I have no idea how he had learned of Robert’s death, but there he was, on my voicemail, expressing condolences and inviting me to talk – I was surprised but intrigued. I called him back right away, and over the next few months, we talked and visited. It felt “safe” to me.

Our families reconnected and I convinced myself that God had brought him into my life to bring me out of my grief. In August, barely 8 months after Robert’s death, we married. Needless to say, our very brief, 16-month marriage was fraught with difficulty as I was still trying to navigate my grief while trying to handle a newly blended family. He had no idea how to help me and we were not the same people as when we were kids, dating at church.

They say distance and time bring clarity. Looking back some 20 years to when I thought this was such a good idea, it makes me cringe. I was barreling full-force toward what I thought was true happiness and readily welcomed the distraction of "new love". In reality, I was desperately sprinting as fast as I could to get away from grief. I did not know how to face it or how to help my girls through it. I didn’t know anyone who had been through it that I could lean on. I was 36 years old – I should NOT be a widow this young, so I ignored it and thought I was doing right by trying to put the pieces of our lives back together. I knew that people close to Robert and me thought I was crazy and cold. I lost a lot of friends who did not understand how I could do such a thing, less than a year after his death. I can say: that unless one has been through it, one will never understand.

To this day, that life choice remains the most devastating decision I ever made.