Let It Be

There will be an answer.

Or maybe not. One of my suicide widdas says this indifference is a phase; I’m dubbing it the ‘eh’ phase.

I just left a weekend seminar that is dedicated exclusively to the healing and care of those of us who have lost a loved one who served in the military to suicide, and I haven’t cried yet. This isn’t necessarily a bad thing, but I’m feeling more out of sorts over my lack of tears than I am about the fact that the circumstances of my life make it possible for me to even qualify for attendance at such an event. I mean, I can’t possibly cry ALL the time. That would be ridiculous. Plus, I’d get dehydrated, and I just don’t have time for that. But I’m really thrown by how desensitized I seem to be right now.

Some of the sessions I attended this weekend were great. I sat in a group of other suicide widows discussing (and laughing about) the challenges (And nightmares. And straight-up comedy routines.) we face in the world of dating. I heard over thirty people share different experiences they’ve had when feeling connected to their loved ones after they passed. My favorite was a very small group representing the very few of us who are widowed without children. I had drinks with some of my widdas and got to share and relive the movie script that played out on the day my husband died. I spoke with the person who’s going to be supporting me in filing for some of Mark’s paperwork regarding his military service. I researched what it would take for me to freeze my eggs and then decided that I MIGHT have enough money to do so by the time I’m even be ready for a serious relationship in which I MIGHT be brave enough to take on the possibility of bringing another human into this world.

Not a tear.

I welled up during a spectacular talk given by one of the most inspiring advocates for suicide prevention that I’ve ever come across. But as soon as the feeling came, it passed. The tissues I grabbed were more for my nose than my eyes, since I seem to have a cold going on. I even let a guy take me out! (More news on that later.) And when he mentioned Mark’s name, I froze for a second and thought to myself about how spectacular it would be for my emotional breakdown to happen while out with a guy on a not-date. But it didn’t. I just thanked him for saying Mark’s name and carried on in the conversation.

Naturally, we talked about suicide. And guns. And mental health. All great topics for a not-date…

I got to remember throughout the weekend how great Mark was. Still no crying. I smiled about his beautiful smile and told everybody how he was such a doll. Not even a happy tear. I delved further into the confusion of his gambling addiction, and that barely even got me frustrated. I considered the possibility of my being alone forever. I panicked a bit, but I didn’t cry. At this very moment, I’m hoping that putting on the right song and replaying the weekend over in my head will bring about a tear, but it doesn’t seem to be working.

Ambivalence is a common reaction to a suicide. I suppose that’s true of almost any death, since no relationship is perfect and everybody has flaws, but it goes without saying in the case of a suicide. So if you’re feeling that way, don’t worry; it’s “NORMAL”, at least given the circumstances. Give it a week. Or a minute. You could be a sobbing disaster at any moment, but happiness is also right around the corner. The wonky indifference you feel will pass. I think. Right now, I can’t tell because I’m IN it and have the experience that things will always be this way. But that’s not how life works, so I’m just going to let it be for now.