I wrote this about two years ago, but I share it here because I feel that it might help someone.
My experience with Camille in the hospital has given me a glimpse into the life of one who has lost their spouse. It's more than just the major responsibilities one must pick up in family life. It's more than loneliness. It's more than missing a friend.
Even after months of sleeping alone, each noise I hear during the night makes me think it's her. Each time I turn over, I think to do it quietly so I won't wake her. Each time I think of something to share, I can't. Each time, I feel that disappointment, that pain that she's not there. That feeling repeats over and over, many times each day. It's death by a thousand cuts. Or it's Chinese water torture, repeatedly stung with the realization that she's not there.
This is so even knowing that she's still here, that I'll see her later that day. How does one cope when that period will be prolonged? When someone becomes so intertwined in your life, as with your true love, does that ever really fade? Do we really want it to? Or does pushing this away instead feel like losing them all over again? I imagine it's easy to go crazy. Or numb. Turning off all emotion seems preferable.
I've always been rather stoic at funerals, because of my trust in the Lord and in the resurrection. But D&C 42:45 says, "Thou shalt live together in love, insomuch that thou shalt weep for the loss of them that die...". That weeping continues, I think, until the reunion we'll have when we die, when all the tears shall be wiped from our faces, and all the pain swallowed up in joy.
