Tag: Grief

Someone recently asked me why I feel the need to publicly write about my grief?  At first, I will admit, that question kind of ruffled my feathers a bit, but it’s a valid question.  She wasn’t asking me after all, why I felt the need to write at all.  I think the therapeutic nature of writing has well been established and accepted.  Is it therapeutic for everyone?  Of course not! For some, writing is about as much fun as manipulating spreadsheets is for me.  Zilch! But after pondering her question, I think my answer is a mish mash of a lot of different things. 

1. American culture doesn’t really have a tradition of acknowledging someone in mourning.  It was once commonplace for a widow to wear black for a full year. I think there was something beautiful in that.  Mourning garments were easily recognizable, and I am sure it thereby offered the mourner grace. It’s been a little over 3 months for me, and while grief in general sucks, I am fully aware that I have been exceptionally blessed. I was able to take 10-weeks to try and get my life and my head together before going back to work, which is a luxury of the highest order denied many.  I also have an amazingly strong network of friends and a stellar faith family who have & continue to support me in countless ways! But do I feel 100% myself again after 14 weeks?  Heck no!  Do I still choke up at the darndest times?  Yes.  Did I have a full out boo-hoo session into the scruff of my very squooshy dog’s neck JUST the other night?  Yes! But I know Cosbo 🐶will never talk smack about me or make me feel weak for again being knocked sideways & onto my knees by grief. Grief is a sneaky B****! But still, I think wearing something that identified me as ‘in mourning’ would be helpful.  I think it would explain my state of mind now, and cut me some slack here and there for those who don’t know me well, but then again, we live in a broken world, and perhaps mourning garb today would just make widows targets for scamming. I mean I already question if I’m getting taken advantage of every now and again. Like did I really need 4 new tires this week???

2.  By sharing my journey, I am finding comfort and common ground with others who are grieving or have grieved the loss of someone they love.  There is a kinship between mourners.  Like Harry Potter who was able to see the thestral horses because he had experienced the loss of his parents, mourners are now all a part of the same sad club, and we will forever see things differently than our friends and family who have been fortunate enough to have not gone through this hell yet.  There is also comfort and camaraderie knowing you aren’t the only one who is hurting and that there are others out there who just sort of “get it.” Plus, grief is not often talked about in our society today, so none of us really know how to comfort and support those who are grieving.  And so, I guess I am also trying to share my journey to serve as one relatable experience for others to help them understand and empathize with people in their lives, should they or someone they know experience deep loss.  

3.  And finally, I think I am enjoying sharing my journey, because I loved Jamey so much.  I love talking about him.  I love talking with other people who loved Jamey.  I think that the sadness one feels is in direct proportion to the love that was lost, and just like when you are giddy with new love and want the world to know, I want the world to know that I lost a great love, a great man, a great friend, & a fantastic father to our girls. It still boggles my mind that he is not coming home ever again. It boggles my mind that the world keeps spinning and that time keeps moving on, and look out, ⚠️ the holidays are right around the corner, but Jamey isn’t. 

And to further support my weekly practice of public journaling, I will share an excerpt I read in one of my daily meditations about grief called, ‘Healing After a Loss.’

“To read the works of others who have gone through grief is another way of keeping the process going, and of finding another understanding friend. When a writer describes for me how I’m feeling, she or he becomes, my friend; I am not alone. Somehow if that person has achieved some peace with the pain, enough to write it down. Maybe I too, will find my way through this.” – Martha Whitmore Hickman.

My hope is to not only write the pain out of my heart, but be a friend in grief to others and maybe encourage other believers in their own struggles when they read how I believe He (with a capitol H) is walking with me & continues to strengthen me.

So, backstory: I often told Jamey he was like a modern-day Joseph, as in Joseph and the coat of many colors. (If you are unfamiliar with the story of Joseph or want a refresher on the story, you can check out a synopsis here.)  Basically, Jamey was the last of four (not 12) boys, but unlike his three brothers before him, he was given the opportunity to attend not only a private high school, but a private undergraduate college too, his own little coat of many colors.  And while I don’t think he was braggadocios like Joseph, that just wasn’t who Jamey was at his core, he was always humble and modest, I was his wife, and not his brother, so I don’t know how it felt to be his brother during that time. But I do know for certain that they would have NEVER thrown him into a pit or sold him into slavery, though I do recall some good healthy, brotherly teasing during a particular toast 🥂 at our rehearsal dinner many moons ago.  

But the comparison didn’t stop there for me, for in my eyes, everything Jamey touched turned out well for him and with the most ah-mazing timing. For example, as soon as we moved into a new home that was a bit of stretch for us, he would get promoted right before our first mortgage payment was due and his raise would exactly equal the difference in our mortgage, and it didn’t just happen once, it happened all the time. He was brilliant and blessed, and it was evident, to me at least, that like Joseph, God was with Jamey.  (Genesis 39:2 “The Lord was with Joseph, and he became a successful man, and he was in the house of his Egyptian master.” 

Fast forward to today, and I still see this comparison, even in his death.  Because Joseph had so impressed the Pharaoh, he was promoted to a position of power and able to store up grain, saving the people in Egypt, and even his own family in Canaan from famine.  Now, obviously, Jamey was not much of a grain storer, (though I have come to realize he was a bit of a paper storer. I might even go so far as to call him a paper pack rat, as I have found project files dating from the early 2000s and then sentimental paper files filled with email correspondence and receipts from when he planned our 👰🤵 honeymoon. Confession, I too am keeping those particular paper files.) But by establishing the Hollingsworth Colorectal Cancer (CRC) Awareness Fund, he is saving people, not from famine, but from a totally preventable cancer, that if caught during early detection, can truly save lives. And so though knowing that doesn’t make the loss of my husband or our girl’s father, hurt any less, it does give me pause and remind me that despite my only child nature, Jamey’s sole purpose on this earth wasn’t about me.  😯 LOL!  Which also means that his loss isn’t really about me either, though losing him has irrevocably changed the trajectory of my life forever.  But I mean, if we think about it, none of us are meant to live on this earth for our own purpose, but for His purpose. 

We are all just characters in God’s story, and we are not even the main characters, we are minor characters moving the plot forward.  So, while I personally feel like a pretty sad and tragic character, and I cry at the slightest bit of reflection, I am honored that God chose my husband to save others.  And throughout Jamey’s fight against cancer and even after, I have had a countless number of friends and acquaintances, near and far, tell me that they scheduled their colonoscopy and had precancerous polyps removed all because they had read one of my Caring Bridge posts or even this blog, and were motivated to get screened.  How ah-mazing is that?!  So maybe, just maybe, God is choosing to use me and my verbosity for His purpose too.  Maybe, by me sharing our story, others will continue to be motivated to be screened, so other characters in His story don’t have to lose their life partner or father or friend or brother or uncle or son or colleague. 

And while I might consider myself a tragic character in this chapter of God’s story, I have to also consider it a privilege that He just might be using me for His purpose, and His purpose, while most definitly not the way I would have written this story, will be for good. I put my faith and trust in His word. “For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans for welfare and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope.” Jeremiah 29:11 

I’ve been counseled by another widow through a mutual friend that I need to make this “The Year of Yes.” (Not to be confused with the Shonda Rhimes book, though I read it, & it is fabulous!) I was told this advice was essential because I wouldn’t feel like doing anything for quite a while, but if I gave into those feelings of no, I would find myself even sadder and even more alone. 😢

Her advice has been a real compass to me as I navigate the dark & uncertain terrain of widowhood. 

• Want to go for a walk?  Yes! 
• Want to meet for lunch? Yes! 
• Want to see some music? Yes! 

And so, when 4 of my best girlfriends strongly suggested that I could now join them on ‘the girls trip to Napa,’ because, sadly, I was no longer a “care-partner,” I said “Yes!” I cashed in on frequent flyer miles, & packed 2 heavy carry-ons. Heavy with the layers you need in Northern California & heavy with my own grief & tears. Was I looking forward to a big raging girl’s weekend? No. Did I worry I might be the wet blanket to everyone’s good time? Yes. Did I go anyway? Yes!

Honestly, I was waffling on this particular yes, but I realized that if you don’t invest in your friendships, you’ll lose your friendships, and I have learned that I need these women in my life.

Case in point: When @ 6:50 AM on Tuesday, July 19, I texted these ladies in our everyday group chat, “He’s gone.” I’m not exaggerating when I tell you that two of these women were in my house BEFORE the hospice nurse arrived 45 minutes later, & another one was in route from Atlanta, before the nurse started dissolving all the remaining Oxy in the house. In fact, when the nurse did arrive, she came up to me, still standing @ the foot of Jamey’s hospital bed stupefied & in shock, and told me she needed to speak with my mother. Me, not really comprehending what was being said, was just like, “Um, why do you need to speak to my mother?” It was one of these fierce ladies who interrupted & said, “She IS the mother!”

So, like I said, I need these women, so off I went to Cali. And while I admit I wasn’t really all that jazzed about the trip, it was sooooo, soooo good for me, and I am so, so glad I went.

Did I cry? Absolutely.

Did my heart hurt 💔 when I realized that I had no one to call or text to tell that I landed safely? For sure. Was it bittersweet to dine in an Iron Chef restaurant, a show that Jamey and I watched together since I was pregnant with Halli, Morimoto’s, in Napa, without even being able to tell Jamey about it? Oh my goodness, yes.

And it was even more bittersweet when through a series of uncanny events an old college roommate, not mine, turned Stage Manager to Bonnie herself, and unexpectedly gifted us four tickets to her show that night where she covered two John Prine songs that Jamey loved. (We 4 were also fans of the INXS cover she did, but that’s not really a part of this story. 😂) So yes, there was a lot of bitter, but there was also a lot of sweet. 

Namely the laughter, the blessed, sweet laughter! The laughter slipped in between all the things, all the raindrops, all the chilly temps on Sunday, & most definitely through the sunshine on Monday. And though I know I’ll grieve the loss of Jamey every day for the rest of my life, I was reminded on this trip, that there is still joy to be had in this 🌎world. And so though I picked up a few souvenirs & squished them into my bags, not only did they divinely feel lighter, so too did my heart. 

“The Lord is close to the broken-hearted & saves those who are crushed in spirit.” Psalm 34:18