3 of the 7 states of loss and healing

By Natasha Josefowitz, Ph.D.

Natasha Josefowitz
Natasha Josefowitz

This is part three of a five-part series, The Seven States of Loss and Healing. The poems are excerpted from my book, Living Without the One You Cannot Live Without: Hope and Healing after Loss.

Disbelief

Maybe

Maybe it’s all a mistake
maybe it wasn’t real
maybe it was a bad dream
maybe it didn’t happen
maybe when
I come home tonight
he’ll be there, saying
“Hi, how was it?”
and I’ll tell him
all about it
except
he wasn’t there
and he didn’t ask

“Disbelief” is the third state. Slowly numbness becomes cognitive dissonance. The phone rings, you think it’s him—it isn’t, he’s dead. You get some news you want to share with her, for a split-second you plan on doing so, then you realize you cannot, because she is gone. Even though you know your husband has passed, you keep expecting to see him sitting on the sofa reading the newspaper when you come home or to hear him making coffee when you get up in the morning; you shop for two; you say “us” instead of “me.” Your unconscious has not yet caught up with the new reality of your life, and it will take time to reprogram your reflexes and habits.

Reality

Pain

The pain comes on suddenly
while I drive
or eat dinner
or talk to a friend
the pain is terrible
it starts somewhere
in the center of my body
and radiates out
everywhere
it’s the pain of being aware
of how I miss him
in that moment
the overpowering awareness
of his forever absence
and there is no one to turn to
no where to go
no getting away
no possible refuge|
no stopping the pain
it sits there
enveloping me
and I am helpless in its grip|
contemplating with awe
the immensity
of how much pain one can bear
without dying from it

Finally you are emotionally able to accept “Reality,” the fourth state. You get in touch with the finality of death, with the permanent absence of the beloved spouse, with having to live without the one you cannot live without. It is a period of intense grief for most people. You may be plagued with guilt, the urge to blame someone, and unanswerable questions. “How could this have happened?” “Maybe we could have done more to save him.” All the “could have,” “should have,” “why did I?” “why didn’t I?” come surging into our consciousness.

You are left alone; there is no one to share the minutia of daily life. You have lost the witness to your life —no one knows what you had for breakfast, what you just read, where you went, what you thought, and, worst of all, no one really cares. The feeling of isolation is pervasive. You are no longer the center of anyone’s life, nor is anyone the center of yours.

Alienation

Alone at a Party
Going alone to a party
will the people there be friendly?
will someone talk to me?
or will I stand in a corner
glass in hand
scanning the room
for a familiar face
not finding one
looking for a smile or nod
approaching close-knit groups
unable to enter?
I am a stranger among the natives
an alien in a foreign land
I will go home early tonight

Getting out of your comfort zone to meet the world is both difficult and imperative. When you first begin to make that effort, you experience the fifth emotional state, “Alienation.” We tend to identify ourselves in relationship to other people—daughter, son, mother, father, wife, husband, friend…. So if you are no longer a wife, what are you? You are single in a couple’s world: you market for one, cook for one, walk alone, go to a party and stand in the corner with a glass in your hand watching happy couples. You’re not a whole person; you are half a couple.

I became grateful when couples invited me to join them for dinner or a movie, but I found the odd number uncomfortable (“three’s a crowd,” “the fifth wheel”). Unless they are old friends, there is a level of discomfort which is felt by your companions too. This uneasiness is probably why many recent widows are dropped by some couples. It is also my experience. The way to keep up with the relationship is to reciprocate: treat the couple to dinner or lunch or get tickets to the theater or a concert. You must become creative to maintain friendships.

*
Josefowitz is an author and freelance writer based in the San Diego suburb of La Jolla.  This article has appeared in the La Jolla Village News.  The author may be contacted via natasha.josefowitz@sdjewishworld.com