…well no, probably not. At least not something most people should try to imagine under most circumstances.
But sometimes I wish that other people did know how it feels. …and how that feeling is ongoing.
The feeling doesn’t go away.
Because this is worse than the worst horror movie you’ve ever seen.
Worse than your worst nightmare.
I recall having a nightmare that Greg died about a month before he did actually die and I awoke with the exact same feeling that gripped me when I arrived home from work that fateful day… except after the nightmare I also had the instant relief of seeing his sleeping face on his pillow right next to me.
So reality is definitely worse than the nightmare….
But the pain? Well it’s a bit like this:
You want to vomit, but can’t. You just feel nauseous. All. The. Time.
You want to run away. Far far away. But you are dizzy and tired and your legs don’t work properly.
You can’t eat or drink. Food is not interesting or necessary.
and you are very, very scared. Fear radiates off you and pushes you to a fight or flight response.
Even if you aren’t screaming out loud, you are screaming in your head “no no NO NO NO NO NONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONO”.
You search the faces of the people near you, waiting for them to say “Gotcha” or ‘April Fool” as some kind of very bad joke.
You want to call him and tell him to come and be with you because something very bad has happened and you need him to lean on.
Your mind goes to mundane things. Stupid things that don’t matter. I said “but he was supposed to fix the washing machine when he got home”.
You cry. You cry loud. You cry a lot. Your eyes sting and your face aches from the perpetual grimace.
You are spacey. detached. The world gets a bit shimmery and you think everything is some kind of illusion. This can’t be real… I was literally just talking to him.
You can’t hear properly. You don’t care that you can’t hear properly. Who cares about mundane things like hearing when Oh My Fucking God my HUSBAND is DEAD.
Why am I still standing? I can’t believe I am hearing this horror and my heart hasn’t simply stopped beating in shock. Actually my heart feels like my chest has been ripped open and my blood is pooling on the floor. and yet I am standing. Why?
Why are people talking to me like they think I can understand them? They are talking some other language.
Why can’t anyone see that I am dying?
…and at 8 months down the track it’s more like this:
Why do you look at me like I should know what you are talking about?
I forget everything.
I can’t keep a thought in my head because it’s pushed aside by the screaming “he’s dead! DEAD!!”.
Can’t you see that half of me is gone and you expect me to remember what you are saying?
I am like a swan with signets – I look like I am coping and looking after my babies, but the furious paddling below the surface is all that’s keeping us afloat.
You think I should be “getting better” by now but MY HUSBAND IS DEAD AND HALF OF ME IS GONE AND OH MY FUCKING GOD CAN’T YOU SEE THAT MY HUSBAND IS DEAD AND ITS ALL I CAN DO TO KEEP BREATHING IN AND OUT????
But I need to keep moving. keep breathing in and out. keep putting one foot in front of the other. keep busy. keep living live day by day (hour by hour, minute by minute).
I have two choices: to keep plodding onwards or to give up and just stop living. The second option isn’t really an option, so I’m left with plodding on.
Because if I stop, I’ll think about THAT DAY again and I will once more tumble into the mawing pit despair.