Chapter Four
Although it had been a challenge in the early weeks, I had now been back to work for nearly three months. Still, the air inside my office seemed oppressively heavy and stale with sadness. I handed Stella the box of Kleenex and she removed several. Her tears flowed freely. She dabbed at her eyes and then wiped her runny nose.
“My husband’s death makes me feel like I’ve been swallowed up by a monster. No one can see how big it is except me, but it’s scarier than I ever imagined and more dangerous than I thought possible. I fight it every day, Hope, and every day is different. Like I’m getting ahead of it one day, and the next I feel like I’m slain again. There are days that I have to push myself to get out of bed, but I put on a brave face. It’s just that …” Stella’s chin dropped to her chest as she covered her face with her hands. Silent sobs wracked her body, moving her shoulders in concert with her breathing.
I gave her a few moments to expel the hurt before softly speaking. “Why don’t you try to take a deep breath?” I threaded compassion through my words.
Stella looked up at me, her eyes now red-rimmed and bloodshot. “I don’t know how to fight this. When my husband died, my love didn’t. Now it just doesn’t have a place to go. I feel like there’s a dam ready to burst inside of me. The lump in my throat nearly chokes me. It’s crazy! Stuff I never gave thought to, like shopping or going out to lunch, people talk about it. It’s like people are watching me do everything. And now I feel like I’m always watching myself so I can judge before they do. I used to give hugs to everybody, but I don’t feel like doing it anymore because I know that they’re talking about me behind my back. It’s almost like everyone’s grief has poisoned them.”
I knew the feeling well, yet couldn’t share that information with her. It wouldn’t be professional to reveal aspects of my personal life to a patient. What I really wanted to do was take her out for coffee. Tell her that I understood how she felt. Unbeknownst to Stella, we were kindred spirits. The pain of death was the sea in which she and I were barely treading water. The same waves crashed over us while we were caught in the riptide. Although there were moments when the waters calmed, those times were short-lived. The only promise I could give to her—one that I had learned from women older and wiser than I—was that one day we would both be able to swim without fear of drowning.
“There are no rules with death, Stella. Intellectually, you know that he is gone, it just takes time for your heart to catch up. As far as the scrutiny you’ve been under, take the comments and actions with a grain of salt. No one knows how you feel, but everyone will have an opinion. They’re just acting on emotions and emotions have no intellect. I’ve always heard it said that ‘you can’t help what pops into your head, but you can control what comes out of your mouth.’ The best thing you can do for yourself is to ignore them and concentrate on you.”
She managed a weak smile. “Thank you. If I could bring him back, I would. But since I can’t, I just have to move forward, you know?”
The truth was that I knew all too well what she meant. I had cried a million tears, begged a million times, and made a million promises to God that I fully intended to keep if He would just bring Judge back to me. I had pleaded for some modern-day Lazarus miracle to have my husband back for just one more day. But it never happened. There were so many times that I felt I had died along with Judge, but the painful realization was that I hadn’t. My lungs still breathed, my blood still flowed, and, piece by piece, my broken heart was beginning to heal. Although it would never be the same, I would function and regain my life, despite the scar of death. I wanted to hold Stella’s hand and reassure her that everything would be okay. Displays of compassion with patients were cautioned against and were frowned upon in my profession. Only textbook common sense was encouraged and would have to suffice. In a situation such as this, most of my colleagues would put on their monotone voices as quickly as they slid their glasses on their noses; and for the sake of keeping my job, I had to follow suit.
“We can continue this next week, Stella. In the meantime, make a list of some things that you like to do. Perhaps some goals you might set for yourself. Bring that list with you and we can expand on it next week. We need to discuss how you can take the steps necessary to live your best life by doing things that make you happy.”
Stella glanced at the clock as she reached for her purse. Although I was sure that her days were dragging out as slowly as she had confided, I was confident that she would learn to live again despite the grief. Just as I had begun to do. I knew all too well that every part of her felt broken, but I also knew that she would heal in time. Sorrow from death is equally as painful as a shattered limb and grief is invisible. Once the tears dry, no one can see how much you are suffering inside.