The Difference

This is something I've had building in my head, more and more lately.  Finally decided to write it down.  Not sure if I'm done with it or not.

 

The Difference

Talking with another widow, the topic of broken hearts come up. I don't remember the entire conversation, but she asked me "aren't our hearts broken too?"

My answer was no.

My heart was shattered.

There is a difference. A broken heart can be repaired with little to no evidence. A shattered heart can be put back together but its full of cracks and there are pieces forever missing. The evidence of what it has gone through will always be there. Its forever changed.


I have had people compare my loss to their divorce.

My answer was no.

At some point in your relationship you made a choice. A choice that the relationship was over and not worth fighting for. I HAD NO CHOICE. My relationship, my love, my husband, was stolen from me. There is no 2nd chance, no time to change my mind. No time to make things right.


I have seen things all over Facebook and Pinterest about not looking back and the past is the past and should stay there.

My answer is no. There is a difference.

When a relationship ends in a breakup, there is always a reason. The couple should learn from it and move on. They chose that path in their lives and they need to continue forward on it.

I did not choose this. The path I was on was great. It was bumpy at times, but always smoothed out in time. I did not choose to change paths. My path was fine. My path was what I wanted. Then it was no longer there. I was forced to change my path. This path is bumpy, full of holes, and many curves. This path has straight lines followed by a maze. Most of the time the maze takes me pack to the beginning and I have to pick another route. Eventually the mazes get smaller and less complicated, but they will always be there.


Many people want to believe they know how I feel because they've lost a parent/grandparent/sibling/friend.

My answer is no. There is a huge difference.

The loss of a loved one is always hard. Every one of them leaves a hole in our lives where they used to be.

I have lost my dad, grandmas, grandpa, best friend, aunts, uncles. Each one of them was hard, and each one of them was hard.
But none of them compare to the loss of my husband. With that one loss I lost my best-friend, my lover, my soul mate, my roommate, my patient, my kids' father, my support, my dreams, my future, my plans.

When he died there was and always will be a huge hole where he was. But each one of those losses left a hole too. I can repair some of them, but they will never be the same. Some of them are unrepairable and I have to learn to work around them.


I have had several people tell me I am not the same person.

My answer is no. I am not.

There is a huge difference between my life before my husband died, and now. I will never be the same. I see things differently. Things that used to matter don't any more. Things that I never thought would happen to me, are always at the back of my mind. Things I never thought about before are things I've come to obsess over.


Things are different now. I'm different. My kids are different. Our paths in this world are different.

I've had to figure out who I am and who I will be from now. I am and always will be a work in progress.