Grief Myth Busters According to Xtina

It’s been almost two months since Matt passed away, and over a year since his diagnosis. I often bring up both events because, honestly, they were equally as damaging. The only difference is, I went through the latter with Matt. For the past nine years, I’ve gone through everything with Matt. From lost jobs to lost loved ones. Grief existed in my life before cancer. As hard as things seemed at times, though, I knew I had Matt to lean on and help me through. 

 Now, I have to deal with the most tragic event of my 34-year life without him, and that sucks. Over the past year, it’s safe to say I cried almost every day. I battled fear and disbelief. And…I carried on with mission and with hope. I often mourned the life we used to have, just like I mourn the loss of Matt now. I look back over the course of this past year, just as many of my friends and family members do, and say, “what happened?” It doesn’t feel real. This is not how things were supposed to play out in our life. This wasn’t supposed to happen to us.

But here we are. During a time we were supposed to be building our family and enjoying the tribulations of new parenthood, I’m moving by myself back into Baltimore, enrolling Bryson in daycare, and learning how to balance all of this change on my own. I’m lucky to have a fantastic support system in both friends and family. But it’s not the same.

Over the past few months, I’ve received a lot of advice and read/listened to so much material on young widowhood, looking to find some sort of understanding. I’ve realized a few things particular to my own experience, and I’m going to share some myths (at least for me) that I’ve busted through over these past couple months.

Grief Myth One: Don’t make big decisions

I’m selling our house and moving back into the city. Yes, I’m breaking “rule number one” of widowhood. I’m making a big decision very soon after experiencing traumatic loss. I have zero regrets. Don’t get me wrong, I love our house and our neighborhood. This house is literally the perfect house…for a growing family. It checked all of our “forever home” boxes. Unfortunately, forever was cut short for us. Understanding that I don’t have to justify my actions, I’m going to anyway:

1. The house is way too big for me to take care of solo, on top of working full-time job, being a semi-new mom, and a lone dog-mom to Chuck. 
2. I have a 45 minute- 1 hour commute to work each way. It’s doable when there’s more than one adult and you can split time and duties. Now that I’m on my own, I need that extra 2 hours in my life…and in my sons life. 
3. It’s depressing. Most of my memories, outside of the first four months we lived in our house, are filled with sadness, anger, and hurt. Yes, there were sparks of joy and happiness, but most of our year was spent mulling over what we needed to do next to save Matt’s life. I had to watch Matt fight between feelings of joy over spending time with his son and fear that he wouldn’t be around to watch him grow up. Writing this is quite frankly overwhelming. Living amidst those memories every day is nearly impossible.

Grief Myth Two: No one can say the right thing

 Maybe I just know really awesome people? I never felt offended by the comments I received from others when Matt passed away. There was no right or wrong thing to say. I genuinely appreciated every person who reached out to me. It takes a lot, especially if you aren’t particularly close, to reach out to someone with sympathy, and perhaps empathy, in these unprecedented times. I’d say the only thing that I found myself thinking in regards to the standard “I’m sorry for your loss” was “I’m sorry for YOUR loss.” Matt was my soulmate, my best friend, and everything to me. His absence is mind numbing to this day. But I also know he was so much more than my husband. He was a son, an in-law, a nephew, an uncle, a father, a brother, a cousin, a coworker and a best friend to so many. Even if you weren’t in his “inner circle,” he was the one you looked forward to seeing at a party, regardless of the mood you were in before he Michael Jackson-kicked into the room. He never disappointed and he never flaked. His loss was so much more than a loss to me; his impact is so much greater than that. 

Grief Myth Three: You’ll Go Through Grief In Stages

As if life is so simple. Grief is not linear and it is not consistent. The stages of grief were actually developed as a way of explaining how people rationalize terminal or serious diagnoses. Somehow, that was translated over into the actual loss of a person. Since I’ve experienced both in a year, I can tell you right now, at least for me, it’s bull. Everyone grieves and experiences loss differently. I don’t “accept” what happened; I’m still angry, while simultaneously sad. I don’t spend my day crying in a corner because that’s just not how I cope; but that doesn’t mean I’m not hurting and that I’m “ok.”  I’m “ok” in the sense that I’m functioning in my day-to-day life; I’m “ok” in the sense that I can still smile and find happiness in moments. I’m “ok” in the sense that I can rebuild our life and have hope for the future. But I am far from “ok.” Perhaps “ok” just means something different to me now?

I don’t know what my future entails; I don’t know what future happiness means for me. I do know that everyone moves forward differently, and at different rates. As a serial planner, I’d typically find the uncertainty stifling; but if there’s anything I’ve learned over the past year, it’s that you can’t prepare and plan for everything. There will be twists and turns and all I can do now is ride the wave.

Grief Myth Four: The Holidays are the Hardest

Matt passed away on Christmas Eve. Since then, I’ve experienced my first Christmas, my first New Years Eve, my first birthday, Bryson’s first birthday, and my first Valentines Day without Matt. I’m not saying that any of these holidays were easy, but they didn’t trigger me like I expected. Honestly, the hardest things for me, or the moments when I find myself ready to breakdown, are amidst the little things. It’s going to the grocery store, cleaning our house, sitting out on our front porch, or hearing “Don’t Let the Sun Go Down On Me” while I’m working through my marketing plan. It’s the every day. The sense of my person not being there anymore. Sometimes, I get mad. Most of the time, I’m holding back tears. Perhaps this will fade over time, but right now, it’s still very raw for me. In these moments, I often talk to Matt and ask him to help me get through it. And he does in one way or another 🙂

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Grief Myth Five: You will Lose Hope

If anyone out there is currently battling or is close to someone battling a serious illness, I hope you read this part of my blog. There is hope. There is ALWAYS hope. Miracles, whether through science or through the unexplained, do happen. Unfortunately, we weren’t recipients of that miracle, but that doesn’t mean they don’t happen. Likewise, science and our understanding of disease is evolving every day. The battle against cancer, ALS, and other terminal illnesses is constant. You just have to keep pushing through and keep fighting. During Matt’s fight, I tried to spend as little time dwelling on the terror of the situation, and as much time taking action. I sought out survivor stories and researched clinical trials. I wasn’t ignorant to the situation, but I also wasn’t going to give in to cancer. Matt didn’t, and I encourage you to do the same. Great strides have been taken in the fight against so many cancers. People, at all stages, are living longer than ever before.  In regards to cholangiocarcinoma, and other rare cancers, the unique struggle comes from lack of knowledge and understanding. Because the public demand and attention isn’t as high, these cancers are under-researched and under-funded. No person should ever feel like they have “the bad cancer” or that they got the crap-end of the cancer stick. All cancer is awful, but some carry greater baggage than others. I encourage you to change the conversation in whatever way you can. Because there is, and should always be, hope. 

In fact, it’s A MATTER OF HOPE.

ICYMI: On August 15th, the day after Matt’s 36th birthday, our tribe is pulling together the event of the summer in honor of Matt and to raise funds for the Cholangiocarcinoma Foundation. If you haven’t had a chance to check it out, all of the info can be found here or on the A Matter of Hope Facebook page. We’ll rock out to the beats of The Time Police and Soundtown just as Matt would, at one of his favorite spots in Baltimore, Union Brewery.

Whether you’re travelling down the road, or down the coast, we’d love for you to come out, celebrate, and raise money for a cause that NEEDS your support. I hear Baltimore is a fun town, and makes a great weekend getaway 🙂

Shameless plug over. I hope this provided a little insight into how intensely different grieving and loss is experienced. If you have any questions for me, about Matt, his fight, or just life and moving forward in general, please sent them in! No question is off limits. I’ll be doing a reader Q&A very soon and your questions will really help!

Until next friends,

Xtina