What’s it Like to Lose Your Spouse?

I didn’t think about this one a ton. I always assumed I would lose my parents first, as that is the natural order of things. I also contemplated losing a child, as that is very extreme and seemingly more likely (Did you know the leading cause of death in children under 5 in Florida is drowning? See what I mean?) If I was REALLY going to lose my spouse it would be when I was 65 or something. That’s what I thought anyhow.

Oh wow look at this. I think this is from a double date this year with my SIL and BIL. I am having her take a boomerang of us. I wish I knew how the rest of my year was about to go.

My best friend lost her mom to alzheimer’s when she was about 27. I researched as much as I could so I could try to help her- or at least not say the wrong thing. Prior to this, a close friend of ours lost her 20 year old daughter in a motorcycle crash. I again researched as much as I could so I could try to help her- or at least not say the wrong thing. Guess what. I still have no idea, and I just hope I remain in this state of ignorance as long as possible regarding those two things. They both have similar feelings of grief and questions about death as I do- but the pain is different and it’s hard to explain. So I will explain my side of what I know now. It’s nothing I could really fathom, unless of course I sat down and read a blog like this one. Maybe then. No… actually reading would give me a better understanding but I still wouldn’t know.

Since our chances of dying are 100%, maybe we should spend more time talking about it. It’s the only thing that’s really guaranteed in life and yet we all avoid it- we don’t want to talk about it because it’s not nice.

Prior to Jesse dying, if I thought about losing my spouse for a second, I’d think “Wow, that would devastate me. I would miss him so much. I couldn’t kiss him. The kids would be so sad, he’s such a great Dad. I’d cry every second!”

Wrong.

This isn’t a guidebook to losing your spouse- it’s my personal experience, but it comes in disgusting waives of disgusting emotions. Most of my widow girlfriends (ew, why is that a thing for me now), would likely agree it’s like this- but everyone is different. People who lost their spouse at more of a “correct” time, wont have as many voids as I do, but may have other things that I don’t. Just depends on the person and timing.

I do not cry every second, but I am in pain every second. There are milliseconds I feel “okay.” It is much more of an intense longing then simply wanting to kiss him or hug him. I literally crave him. Like I am in the desert on my third day without water. I am a thread that has been undone and am fraying to nothing. I want him to touch me. I want him to grab my side when he walks by. I want to hear my phone go off and know it’s him. I want to reply and feel good at his response. I want to discuss what we are eating for dinner for the 2000th day in a row. I want to get mad at him for something. I want to be annoyed that he mowed the grass and missed a spot. I want to tell him I am worried about something. I want to tell him what the kids did or didn’t do. I want to tell him what a friend or family member did that made me upset, made me laugh, made me happy. I want to put my cold feet on his back when he’s sleeping and watch him shriek and then laugh at him. I want to see his car pull in. I want him to tell me his fears. I want to tell him it’s okay and hug him.

Here’s the last time I put my cold feet on him. I had to take weird photos like this. I knew I was about to have fucking nothing after this. This photo always hurts.

For 13 years- we have spent time meshing together as one person. Even if we didn’t like all of the same things, it doesn’t matter. You would think I could hold on to music and shows I enjoyed prior to knowing Jesse, but I cannot because I wasn’t happy with my life until I met him. If anything, those songs and shows just remind me of being unfulfilled. It doesn’t matter whether its negative or positive, my timeline is intertwined with Jesse’s and now it’s demolished.

When you are with your spouse- you naturally just adopt ideas and thoughts with them, even if you don’t notice it. Maybe your spouse loves football and you hate it. It doesn’t matter though because now you know on Sundays you will be watching the game and eating wings or you know that because you hate football you will be out with your girlfriends for a few hours. You become intertwined with a schedule, even if you wouldn’t be doing that single. At some point, your spouse will want to speak to you about the game. Even if you hate football, you will listen. You will listen so much that you may eventually have a shred of interest in it. You will hear so much that you will eventually know when the ref. makes a bad call. If your spouse dies, even though you hate football, it will hurt to see it. It will also hurt to not see it.

In our earlier years, Jesse listened to Howard Stern. I have no interest in Howard Stern, but since Jesse liked him- I know so much about that man I may seem like a superfan. I watched his documentary and heard his show in the background of our life while we did yard work for years. I know all the characters and crazy things they did. But, I didn’t really care for him (at first) nor would I willingly just watch/listen to the show. This same thing happened for Jesse. Jesse listened to me for years babble on about religion- to the point where he should have held an honorary degree in it. The same is true for law school, he actually got to a point where he too could recite the Federal Rules of Civil Procedure, just from being around me. Jesse didn’t give a shit about the FRCP, but we were so intertwined, that it just became that way.

Now I want to hear Howard Stern. It will make me smile for a second- but then I will feel disgusting. Jesse doesn’t get to listen to him anymore. How is that fair? So then I wont listen to him. I’ll turn it off. If Howard Stern is in the news, I’ll think about Jesse.

Losing your spouse-unless they do absolutely nothing-means losing half of everything you have. So many things have broken or needed attention in my house in less than a month. My computer broke, Raiden’s bike tire became flat, our electric outlets stopped working in the kitchen, maintenance to our well and AC hasn’t been done, my trash isn’t taken down. I can go on. I knew Jesse was “in charge” of these things, but now that he isn’t here the absence is so loud. I take my trash down now and it feels so weird. I have to ask for help, a lot. Asking for help sucks.

Losing your spouse means no dates to your favorite breakfast place. No sitting across from them and smiling at their face. No laughing at them when they spill their coffee all over the place. No panicking for napkins to wipe it up with. No embarrassment as people stare at you and you attempt to be normal. Nothing. It means when you see other couples doing this on Sunday morning you feel rage towards them and hate them- even though they have no idea who you even are. Then in the next second you are crying at them. So you look totally crazy and they are just trying to drink their coffee. It means you go to bed alone. You shower alone. You eat alone. But all with the expectation that someone should be there. The expectation that someone should be there forever.

I won’t get these anymore. He’s never going to tell me happy birthday ever again. I’ve been told “at least” I live in a digital age by someone. She is right though. She doesn’t have photos, videos, voices, hardly any writings. I try to be thankful for this stuff and I am- but I am selfish because unless he’s coming back, it’s not good enough.

Losing your spouse means you have created a second time line. There are two universes in which you reside. The one you are currently in and the one that is the “what if he was still alive?” timeline. In the one where they don’t exist. You make every decision alone. Every decision you make, friends and family no longer judge it as that’s just how you two parent- they question it. Because God forbid anyone is capable of making a good decision as a single person. Not that I like making decisions alone, I just don’t have a choice. I would always look to Jesse and ask what he thought. This could range from “oh we need to have the birds and bees talk with the kids” to ” should we make them eat more broccoli?” See. really important things and pretty minor things- neither can I ask his opinion on. There’s no talking, there’s just me doing my best and trying to figure out what Jesse would say. I think I am pretty good at guessing what he would say, but what if I forget? What if I am wrong? The permanency is unwavering. I cannot do a single thing without hearing his name or thinking of him- whether he would be involved or not.

Losing your spouse means your life becomes the ending of the movie The Sixth Sense. You know, the horrible scene where the wife cries herself to sleep on the couch watching their wedding video. That’s what I do. All the time now. When the video is playing, I feel kind of happy. The minute it’s over. I cry hysterically. I repeat this for hours, until I am so exhausted I pass out. I don’t sleep anymore, I pass out. It’s the only way I can go to sleep. If I try to sleep naturally- I see very horrible images when I close my eyes. Ones I will discuss later, because, you know, trauma is just so much fun with all of these layers.

Losing your spouse means whatever was in your imagination for your life will have to be completely reformatted. Did you picture going to Colorado together? Did you picture going to the movies on Friday night? Did you picture eating spaghetti for dinner and you waited for him to say “ugh again?” but there’s nothing. Did you talk about your retirement or what your kids would do when they are older? Did you talk about how cool it will be to be a grandparent? Did you talk about how you need to get out of debt or pay something off? It’s exhausting being slammed in the face with these things every two seconds.

Everyone else gets to go home and be “normal.” They may feel sad but they likely get to go home and hold their spouse for comfort. Whereas I have a pillow and a sobbing child. Not the same. No one is there to comfort you but you and maybe some stupid blog you post. People try and it’s awesome that they would be so selfless. They may give you a hug, but all you think is 1)This doesn’t smell like Jesse 2) This doesn’t feel like Jesse 3) They are hugging me because I lost Jesse, otherwise, it’s likely they would not be here because Jesse and I would be doing something.

This is why when people say “oh sorry I brought up so and so, I didn’t want to make you think about him.” I never stop thinking about him. If I am doing something to distract myself that’s new- I know I am doing it to distract myself because Jesse is not here. If I am doing something Jesse always came to, I think about all the times Jesse and I did that. See? Can’t escape it.

Your husband always has your back, even if you are dead wrong. It’s you and him vs. the world. The “world” could be an argument with a family member- on either side. Or maybe a friend acting out of line. Either way, you know you will have his support. You get to retreat to your safe spot, your home, together, and shake your head at what happened. Unfortunately, now I am alone. Jesse had the sword and I had the shield. I no longer have a sword and my shield is broken to pieces. Anything I have to battle or navigate I do so alone. I consult myself. I can say “Jesse would say…” but that really doesn’t matter, because he’s not saying it. He’s not standing up for me. My voice isn’t as loud, no matter how loudly I scream.

Losing your spouse means one day your nest will be empty. Sometimes other widows will say I am lucky because we had children together. They are right for that. I think it would be worse if we had none or lost all of them. However, it also means a day will come where my children leave and I am literally alone in the house. I will have no one to take care of or look after constantly. I will still call them and help them, but they will all move on with their own beautiful lives. What will I do?

I am 30. 30. Thirty. Am I supposed to never be with anyone ever again for 55 years? That doesn’t sound great. On the other hand, I don’t want to. When you lose your spouse to death and not divorce, this interesting shit element comes up of being unfaithful. I cannot discuss this with him and I wish we spent more time on this topic, so maybe I’d know? I only know that I specifically told him if I died, to find a good woman who loved our kids. I am pretty sure he told me if I found someone he would haunt the house (thanks Jess, very helpful). That doesn’t leave me with a lot. I don’t want to be with another person for a million reasons. Here are some:

  • It feels like I am cheating.
  • I would feel empty. Even if I remarry and the person is great, they are not my spouse. I would just have two now. Two spouses- I deserve a TLC show and may as well be a Mormon.
  • I would feel unfairness. Jesse doesn’t get to remarry. Jesse doesn’t get to do any of what I am doing. This feels like betrayal. If I am so intertwined with him, how do I explain living and moving forward- he doesn’t get to experience that. How is that fair? But then for me to suffer alone, I know he really wouldn’t want that. These feelings are at complete odds. I am pretty sure if he were alive he wouldn’t be please if I had another husband. He’s not alive, but our relationship still is.
  • I would feel gross. Whoever may be in my life will not be Jesse. That is 100% guaranteed. How do I plan to get over that sick feeling? I am not sure. Not only that, this person has to accept 4 children that are not his and a wife that is still in a relationship. There is no getting around this because I refuse to take his photos down and I will absolutely not be silent about him. Honestly, the only man I can think of that would be able to understand something like that… is Jesse.
  • I would feel confused. Being with someone else on Christmas or having them watch Jesse and I’s children open gifts? God that is weird to think about and I literally have to think about it now. I cannot avoid it. Someone else who is not Jesse staying in our house and making breakfast on Saturday? This doesn’t sound appealing. It sounds confusing and disgusting. I will have to accept this at some point or accept being a cat lady. There is no in between here. (Note: I already have 4 cats…so…)
Hearing I am beautiful from someone else will feel like nothing. Absolutely nothing. That’s just how it is now.

This aspect of losing a spouse is definitely one I couldn’t understand. As I said earlier, my idea of losing a spouse was “I’d cry all the time and miss him.” Now I am seeing all these different aspects of it, like how would I enter another relationship? I technically cannot. At least in my head right now that doesn’t seem plausible. It doesn’t seem like that would ever be plausible. I don’t feel like I need anyone. I am pretty self-sufficient. I am just bringing this up because I never really considered it and now it’s such a weird thing to think about.

Today was really hard. Every day is really hard. I still think this isn’t real and I am making up some crazy story to everyone, all the time. I want to tell him so badly about everything that has happened. I want to reflect on all of these events with him. I want him to know how it screwed me up, his family up, my family up, our kids- in ways he would never be capable of thinking of. I want to tell him how quiet Christmas was without him, how we went to bed at 8 and it was silent, compared to last year where we were up for hours surrounded by friends, family, and fun games. I want to tell him how my doctor appointments have gone and that my contractions are getting more intense. I know he would be worried. I want us to watch our show at night with some ridiculous plate of charcuteries that we would eat even though we weren’t hungry we were just being extra. Losing your spouse means literally every tiny aspect of your life changes against your will and your spouses will and there is nothing you can do about it. Nothing.

The last time we held hands. Let me tell you, if you want to know how painful this might be. Try to write out those words for yourself. It’s hard to even write them, let alone know them.

3 thoughts on “What’s it Like to Lose Your Spouse?

  1. I’m not going to say I know what this is like, because I don’t. I did get divorced at 30 and we had been together since 17. The person he is now… isn’t someone I know. I see pictures of him and I feel like I never even knew who he was. Like we’ve never met.

    But you’re right — hearing “you’re beautiful” by someone else isn’t going to mean as much. Or it will always bring you back to THEN.

    I’m so sorry you’re living this; I’m sending you so much love and light.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. So Sorry Rochelle that none of us can help you through this horrible time but always know that we are all here for you. God Bless. Jesse will always be your Guardian Angel Forever

    Liked by 1 person

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