As you said in your note, regarding this being my decade to shine & sparkle... from the ages of 31 to 39, I faced a lot of loss. Like, ALOTTA LOT! lol
"Losing" a spouse who is physically still tangible is definitely a mind-bending experience, and all while having a newborn, losing our house, losing my dog that I had lived for 13 years, losing friendships, losing myself and my identity and core, losing my car, losing my five senses, losing my future that never had a chance to materialize or get traction, and so many other continual losses and new "points of injury".
Losing your spouse in every way but physical-existence in your 30s only to have him still be in your care (financially, physically, emotionally, mentally, will he ever walk again?, will he ever speak again?, it was up to me to find the best programs and therapies to fight for him, as I was his only and strongest advocate and he was my best friend, vocationally--I tried to enable him to be a "working man" again, passionately, epileptically (is that a word?), alcoholically, 2 time craniotomy/cranioplasty, rehabilitation-wise, ...) is like no other loss. There is nothing that prepares you to lose your spouse. Your dog will die in your life time, you know that at the onset of the relationship. Does that make it less of a loss? No. Your parents will die in your lifetime. We all know this is coming. Does it hurt and rip a hole in your life and heart to not have the person who loved you and knew everything about you? Yes. I cannot imagine how I will cope with the loss of either of my parents. *gulp* A loss of a sibling before their time would be heartbreaking and horrible. It would be like losing a limb or a connection to your past and a future with him/her woven through your lifetime.
But your spouse, oof. Your brain actually rewires itself when you begin a relationship; the person and your relationship and your daily "dance" hardwires your brain to function as a duo. So, he lost his right side due to the stroke, but I lost half of me the moment I found him on the floor. I could no longer function as I did just minutes before because my brain was not mapped to work as a solo-artist; I was part of a duo.
The loss of anyone is horrible. And grief is a difficult thing to work through and devastating to realize that it actually never ends. With the exception of the loss of a child--that would be like losing a lung and half your heart and half your brain and half of your existence, I feel there is a distinction between losing anyone but your spouse is like losing an extension of yourself. You still have your fully-mapped brain with which to work; although it may be foggy and a bit different, the majority of it still functions. With an "extension-loss", your spouse becomes your pillar, your safety net, the glue and the pothole-filler as needed for a stretch of time. You still have that special person laying in bed next to you at night. You still have that person who has an equally shared interest in your children. You still have your spouse to help you through parenting challenges, home life, taking the garbage out, paying the bills, mowing the yard, financial decisions, ...
Now, am I trying to define a scale of which loss is worse or better? I honestly don't think so and apologize for seeming to try to create such a "scale".
I am only trying to express my experiences and deep discussions with other "stroke-wives"/"pseudo-widows" and widows with whom I have walked the path to redefining myself, ourselves, as a solo-artist.
Death is definite, and closes the chapter. Most of the widows with whom I have met and befriended over the last 8 years have said, "I think you had it way worse." Most of them had a diagnosis, a window of time to have conversations and closure, to make decisions together, to say and hear what you want and need to hear. How grateful I would be to have one last conversation with Wayne--the full-brain, pre-stroke Wayne. The one who isn't at a comprehension rate of 35-75% depending on his recent seizure activity, current fatigue level, recent diet choices, sleep-quality, etc. And to hear him say my name again?!?! What a gift that would be. One speech therapist got him to say "Choolie" or "Zoolie" (can't remember now) but MAN did I bawl.
How grateful I would be for Morgan and I to have that closure. But, I am also grateful that he did survive and Morgan got to know him, even if it wasn't the "original him", but rather the "altered"/post-stroke him where more of the requirements of the father/daughter relationship fell on her. Oh how she aches, still, daily, for the loss of a father that she will never have. How she aches because she doesn't feel like a child should feel with her dad: safe and that there is an adult in control and has "got this". Frankly, because I was so devoted to his care and rehab and "saving" him (or trying to "get him back"), I wasn't a safe option either for several years. I don't think she felt like, "I'm safe--my mom's 'got this'!" Now, I also know that I did not neglect her, I challenged her, and life did not look "common" in anyway for that little girl (or me or Wayne). But, as my alanon-mentor illuminated for me, I was a far better mom to Morgan through all of the 'worst' years (2008-2015) than some moms who are still part of a functioning duo & has a spouse contributing.
And, finally ... Beth, I *know* you are right: My 40s are DEFINITELY going to be full of wonderfulness. 💞💗
👂🏼💍 Thanks for the ear bling 💍👂🏼 Here's to a sparkly & shiny decade!!! 😘
🎁🌞🌟💫✨🍸🍾🕯💡🎉🎈💝‼️✳️🚺🆕*️⃣🎶✔️🔝📢😊😚
