It Can't be the Same.....And So It Isn't.

There is one thought that I need to discuss with you and others out there.  It is the ongoing need to compare the death of a spouse to divorce.  I have to emphatically say that in most ways- it is not the same.  First I'd like to share with you the parallels that I see in hopes that you know that I am sympathetic about the plight of lost love.  I truly am.
When Steve first passed away there were those that struggled to find anything to say to me.  Through the fog I could sense their need to reach out, to connect, to find a common ground to pull me back from the abyss of grief.  So they would search their own lives and pluck small bits that we could communicate about.  More often than not this came through comparing the life that I had lost suddenly to the loss of their marriage.  I can now see the comparison of the hopes and dreams that we all set out with as we embark on marriage or a commitment to another.  I remember the nights spent whispering of the things that we would do, sharing the deepest secrets and desires that we shared for ourselves and in turn for each other.  I still hold those quiet moments quite dear to me.
In having children we all then turn our focus less upon the hopes and dreams of each other, though those are still in the ether around us, rather we fine tune our perspective upon our children and how to work together to accomplish their dreams; to create a better world for them that is without limits.  We scrimp for little league, and spend countless hours in doctor's offices, we become unified and strengthened through this common goal of lifting our children towards the stars and celebrating their milestones along the way.
This commonality makes it possible to smile, nod and take a deep breath when I am told how lucky I am that my husband died while we were still in love. What?! Come again... That at least I don't have to endure having to see him every day with someone else.  Knowing that he was faithful to me and that I will never have to deal with sharing my children with another household. Wow.
Let me be clear.  If you approach me on the street tomorrow and are gulping back tears because you find yourself being spread too thin because of the circumstances that life has thrown you into- I will wrap my arms around you and find you a clean Kleenex, because that is what sharing the human experience is about.  But please...PLEASE...remember in your own pain, that I am still wrapped in mine and wear it like a sweater, so please remember to tread lightly upon the life experience that I am still working through with no finish line in sight.
We are similar in the grief that we share for a life that can no longer be; for a love that is beyond our reach though still in our hearts and minds.  In all of that we are similar.  We are human and so we are the same.
That, however, is where the similarity ends.  While you may wish your spouse were no longer breathing, I ache each day and night and long for the time that mine still was.  While you tell me how hard it is for you to share your children, I can only think about the fact that they will have another parent to bounce ideas off of.  And while you think being single and able to make ALL of the decisions about my life on my own- I can only focus on your children playing with your ex-spouse and finding some sort of solace in the proximity.  I would not wish this on you, or on your life for anything in the world- so why do you wish it upon yourself?
There is a great chance that at some point in both of our lives we will find another someone to share our life with.  While we both shift focus between what is and what was, there is one distinct difference: I watched as the only man I have ever loved in this life's spirit drained from his eyes and left his mortal shell.  I sat helpless to save him, to breathe life back into his body, and to will him to live once more.  There will never be another word in this lifetime pass between us.  All the while I was throwing everything I was into willing him to live, begging him not to leave me (possibly in the same way you worked to save your world)- I could not get past my lips the "I love you," that was always said each night before bed but went unsaid that last night.  Instead, the words lay frozen in my heart, on my tongue and forever etched into every beat of my heart that his does not.
We both will have to work through our grief in our own way.  We both will figure out a way to move through the dark moments and stand tall in the face of great sorrow.  I will make you this simple promise: I will never tell you how lucky you are that your spouse is still alive, if you never tell me again how lucky I am to not have to go through what you're going through. Our perceptions are our own reality and as such these circumstances cannot be the same- and so they aren't.
Much love for the life that you are living and the person you want to be - Kami