Yesterday was not a good Sunday. I cried all night because I missed A. I scoured the internet to find people on the same boat. However, googling “life after caregiving” resulted in a bunch of institutional articles that—despite its well-meaning—are void of emotions. So then I turned to Tiktok and searched for a few hashtags until I eventually got to “life after partner loss”. Even then not a lot of them were entirely relatable (most of them were widows with children).
One was a mother with two children. Her husband died of cancer. Four years later, she finally fell in love again. She talked about how complex it was, navigating the duality of grieving a loved one while being head over heels for a new partner.
Another one was a young woman. She didn’t say how her boyfriend died. Every few months she would post pictures of what her boyfriend missed since he’d died. Seven months after his passing, she has managed to realize their plans, even though she was doing it alone. She did it anyway.
The other one was another young woman. Her boyfriend also died of cancer. A year later, she posted a video of herself crying in her car, talking about how much he missed him. She, his family and best friends were all going to get together for his first death anniversary. She hasn’t dated anyone since he died.
It’s been a month since I wrote this. For the most part, I’m okay now. I’ve found the hikmah I was looking for. As soon as I found it, it was an instant ikhlas. I accepted why it had to happen. And I started to feel like myself again. I can enjoy my life again. But it’s not a hundred percent like it used to be. The devastating morosity is now replaced by a quiet longing for the sweet release of death. I’m not actively looking for it. But if it’s coming for me, I’ll welcome it with open arms. Maybe this is a necessary phase. We’ll see.
It’s encouraging and disheartening at the same time seeing these women on Tiktok living but also still very much grieving their loved ones months and years after their passing. I admit I’ve logged into Bumble again. I’ve been looking to casually date; to feel desirable again. But I’m also aware that it’s coming from a place of pain. I’m in the mood to take. I’ve given a lot, and I feel like being taken care of for a change. And maybe I’ll be like this for a while. I’ll admit I’m a little bit afraid of the future, even though I also think this anxiety is a natural one to have. Still, some part of me is scared I’m gonna be like that woman from Modern Love who couldn’t let go of her late husband’s car despite being with someone new.
I still think about how I’m too young to grieve like this. It feels so unnatural. But I’m also grateful for the opportunity to feel the whole range of human emotions. And that’s been the thing about this grieving of mine. It feels so painfully cosmic; I feel like I have no choice other than to take nobility in it. I feel like an evolved human. It’s either that or this would be my villain origin story.
It’s nice how some people have told me that I’d find someone new; someone who would love me as much as I love A, who would give me as much as I’d given A, maybe even more. And I don’t mind receiving such love. I would be grateful. The issue is I don’t know how I can return it. I just want to love A. Technically, we never broke up, and I haven’t figured out how to navigate future relationships (if any) considering such fact.
You know, I’ve always found it funny, because I used to have a problem attaching myself to people. I always sabotaged my own relationships, putting myself in the hands of people who were guaranteed to leave me. When they eventually did, I told myself it was never going to work out anyway. Now here I am, feeling very much emotionally secure with someone who is literally dead. My therapist has done a really good job in helping me fix myself.
There was never any doubt about A’s feelings for me. If anything, I underestimated how much he loved me. He literally trusted me with his life, and that kind of trust changes a person. You’d never be the same again. Sometimes I look at my own two hands and I’m amazed by how much they can do. I look at myself in the mirror and I’m amazed by how brave I’ve been; how bigger I am on the inside. I took a bet on myself and it’s paid off in folds. At a cost, but paid off nonetheless.
I have no doubt I will be alright. Sometimes it’s embarrassing how dramatic I can get in my coping, but it’s how I’ve always been; how I naturally am; and it’s an acceptance in progress. I can choose to write this in my private diary instead, but I’m putting it out there in case someone like me is looking for people on the same boat. I hope your googling has led you to this page. You will be alright.
Even if the pain doesn’t end, you will be alright.
Hi Kak Uti, I'm so glad to read this post, even though I don't know why. It comforts me that grieving might not be over, but it's okay. I've experienced grieving but in a totally different case from Kak Uti's. I lost my cat due to my mistakes. It's been several months, and it's hard to accept that my cat is gone. It feels like a montage of what-if scenarios played thousand times, making me wonder if I took a different choice in the past. It's hurt, yet I can't stop.
In the midst of desperation, I read some books. One of them is Option B by Sheryl Sandberg, it gives me a different perspective on how to deal with losing someone, but the book that I would really think might comfort Kak Uti is An Exact Replica of a Figment of My Imagination. It's a POV from a mother waiting for the birth of her first child. A complicated essay between tragedy and hope, sure it tells a different story of grieving, but.. the way she writes talking about her baby, lets us rethink how we remember our loved one helps me a lot.
I'm sending many hopes for Kak Uti, I hope you find a good person, nice pasta, a great book, hilarious memes, a new exciting place, weird surprise. xoxo. Hope you feel better.