With all the love and strength, I could muster up; I tried desperately to hold on to my husband’s hand. His hands felt weak and cold as they slowly slipped out of my grasp. Then I felt a strong force push me off the boat into the water. ‘I can’t swim” was the first thought that entered my mind. My husband was my protector, my life-rath, and now he was gone. I was suddenly cast into the role of being a “widow,” a role I neither relished or desired. The waters of grief were cold and choppy. On so many occasions, I thought I would drown, just slip away under the water and follow the light. The fighter he taught me to be kept me going. I just kept moving my legs and arms, dog peddling until I saw what appeared to be a patch of land. When I pulled myself out of the water, I was drenched in grief and shivering. The warmth from the sun had dimmed. The water in the ocean seemed to swirl around like a tsunami.
The first year after the death of my husband, I was trapped on a deserted island called “Grief” with no one to talk to. Like in the movie Castaway-as time rolled by- I thought the deserted island had become my new home. My thoughts of the outside world diminished, I was surrounded by unfamiliar foliage, and scenery that had no reminisced of my past life. I waited for someone to come looking for me- to rescue me, but no one came. At times I could hear voices in the distant, but my cry for help was so faint that no one could hear me. No one paid attention to the wounded widow. Since, her outside appearance was intact- with no visible wounds-the people passing by assumed she was okay.
The hardest wounds to detect are the scars we carry inward. Suffering through grief alone felt like jumping into the ocean without a life vest. The first year of grief can feel overwhelming. Don’t walk through it alone. Reach out for help. People may not be able to see the invisible pain grief afflicts, but they will hear your cry.
