Sunday, May 23, 2010


♪♫♪ The sun will come out tomorrow ♪♫♪
Originally uploaded by

First off. Thanks to all those who left comments regarding last night's post. It was one of those evenings where I question whether I should be taking the time to post. It was a typical, if not less seldom, painful night of grieving. On nights like that I wonder if I should just post some short explanation about not being available to write, or do as I did, and describe exactly what was happening, in real time.

I think it comes down to being vulnerable. The guy in me, not like I have an inner woman, tells me to buck up, and not share with the world when I am knocked down by my grief. I also look carefully at my intentions, careful not to be overtly seeking sympathy from the crowd. But in the end I remind myself of the commitment I made to myself about this blog. Of writing in real time. I also remind myself that I have developed a great community of support here, and why not look to all of you during these challenging moments.

But to those who might fear drowning during one of these undertows, in my experience, I always wake up the next morning feeling much better, and with a renewed perspective. This is how I choose to walk through my grief. I purposely walk through it with my eyes wide open, and my heart bare, and vulnerable. I am of the belief that we should not run or hide from such pain. We should safely pace ourselves, but be willing to go through it. Anything that we choose to skip, or to turn away from, will only catch up with us later. I think that trying to sort it out later can be very difficult. You might lose the perspective that you would have today. When I am in pain presently, I clearly know why. It is raw, but it is also in clear correlation with where I am on my own time line of living through this loss.

For some reason the song from Annie keeps playing in my head. "The sun will come out tomorrow"...blah blah blah. "So I got to hang on till tomorrow, come what may." I guess you use what gets you through. If it takes the sun rising to shine a light on things so that you have a different perspective, then that's what you depend on. If it takes a little red headed curly mopped girl to sing you out of the darkness, then so be it. For me, I just need to go through what I need to go through. I have done this long enough now to know that while tonight may feel endlessly painful, tomorrow is indeed a new day.

"Tomorrow, Tomorrow, I love ya, Tomorrow, your always a day a way."


  1. please do not ever be afraid to express yourself. talking about what you are going through will help. i very much know it is not the same as someone sitting in the room with your, making eye contact, and bringing you coffee or a cup of tea, or a stiff drink and then listening to you, but the people who speak to you hear understand completely what you are talking about. i am glad that "tomorrow is just a day away" because "after all tomorrow is another day," or so Scarlet O'Hara says.

  2. Another Broadway tune - I love it! Maybe we should put together a recommended song list for widowers/widows. We could call it "Healing from Broadway", or something much more original than my brain can come up with right now.

    And you're totally right with this post, as usual. We need to always face our grief head on, as soon as circumstances allow, or it will come back and bite us in the butt and be much more difficult to deal with.

    Hope the sun is raining down on your today!

  3. I think it's good to acknowledge and express our grief as it happens. Unfortunately, our "schedules" may not allow for it, but at some point, something's gotta give. I remember the first year after Don died, I sometimes had to push onwards all day, my emotions bottled up until the point that it felt like I was wearing a straitjacket and my brains were about to explode. I'd get off somewhere alone and just let out the pain and anger until I felt better. I think it's therapeutic to do so -- and yes, I would feel better later, or the next day. I don't hold back much when I'm alone, which is probably why I enjoy being by myself so much. Anyhow, yes, I agree - grief is not something we can defer to some later date. There's no easy way around it. The good thing is, sadness and pain are not generally a constant. The sun does break through the clouds periodically - at first, just little breaks, but as time goes on, those breaks should get bigger. I doubt the sky ever becomes entirely clear -- probably always a few gray clouds floating around, throwing a shadow across the sun for a few moments each day, but at least that is something to look forward to eventually.

  4. dan - well said.