A Moment of Desperation

On my second day of working in the office, instead of remotely, it went well. I came in with make-up on planning to do my best not to shed those tears and even had a few laughs. I still wasn't able to concentrate though. My mind has been consumed by Jeff's death and all of the what-ifs.

I had a leadership seminar over lunch and was excited to see some of my Leadership Development Team. The majority of them attended Jeff's services and they've been a tremendous support system, not only at this time, but previously as I have grown into the person I am today.

I was on top of it! I mean, I had question after question for the senior leader on how they tackle this situation or that. Then a follow-up question and another. This is NOT like me. I've always been the quiet one when it comes to these types of events, but something was just residing in me. Maybe it was excitement of a distraction?

My phone rang, but I didn't have the number saved in my phone. I wasn't sure if maybe it was the Medical Examiner calling with the results on the cause of death. I stepped out of the board room and into the hallway, then I heard the receptionist say she was calling from my psychiatrist's office. Of course. My follow-up appointment needed to be rescheduled due to a conflict on their end. I told them I hadn't actually done the swap on the medication since my husband passed away shortly after. I felt it was best to hold off for now.

When I hung up the phone and entered into the board room again, I immediately started to feel tearful. I sat back down in my chair. It sits so low that makes you feel like a child at such an important table. My face quickly started to become flush and my eyes started to well up with tears. I didn't look at anyone. I just listened to the speaker and gulped back my emotions. Slowly a tear started to fall down the corner of my right eye and I had to wipe it away unsuspiciously. With how well this team knows me ..I'm certain at least one person could figure out I was becoming a mess.

After a few minutes, the feeling started to subside and I was able to focus a little. Once the lunch meeting was over, I went back over to my office and decided I was going to get one thing accomplished and then head home to complete the rest of my day remotely. I took a different route home so I could loop around to pick up my daughter on the way. As I was driving it hit. The moment. Flooding. Tears. Excruciation. Dread. Fear. Pain. Sobs. Ugly LOUD sobs.

I began to think passive thoughts for the first time since Jeff has been gone. I've wished to be with him, that he would come back, and thought 'what's the point'....but this was different. I wanted to skip picking up my daughter.

On a rough night a few weeks ago, I stopped by Wawa and picked up a few of the convenient wine to-go cartons. I drank a few sips, but then they all just went into the fridge. So, in this moment of my heart-ache, I thought of the alcohol in my fridge. I craved it. I wanted to drown in it. I wanted to drink until I didn't remember and until I wasn't here anymore. I decided to pull over at an overlook off the highway and allow myself to finish letting the tears flow. After a good while, I grasped my breath again and slowly it began to regulate.

My colleague handed me a gift that morning and told me to open it when I was ready. I went ahead and pulled it out of my work bag. She had wrapped with a gold ribbon. As I opened the wrapping paper my assumption was that it was a book. With us both being writers, I thought maybe it was one of those workbooks that take you step by step to work through some of the avenues of grief.

The package opened and I saw the most exquisite beautiful blue cover. Then I saw my recently changed name, "Christine Hoskin" on the lower front. The tears started to flood again. I set it down and read her note. She listed passages for me to read and I took the time to do so in that moment.

I got out of the car, with the gift and her letter, and walked up to the overlook. I closed my eyes and tried to hone in on my feelings. I took deep breaths and held the book close to my heart. I felt foolish and like my moment of desperation was miniscule to someone else's problem. Yet, at the same time, I felt like nobody in the world could be feeling the immense torment and agony I was going through. After this moment, I got back into the car and suddenly felt relief. I didn't want to go home and drink myself into a stupor anymore.

Somehow, in that moment, my colleague and friend, saved me.

The following day I told her what happened, how defeated I was and where my head was turning. We both cried over the Teams call and she said she just knew in her heart that I would open it at the exact right time.

Even when moments seem to defeat you or you feel like you could let it all go, listen to the signs. They are there. As I've said before, I cannot give proclamation to my beliefs, but I can tell you that I believe everything happens for a reason. Those reasons will never make sense in the moment, but as time passes you begin to realize the significance a single thought, conversation, or circumstance happened.

I got back on the highway again and went to pick-up my daughter. I had let my in-laws know that I had pulled over because it wasn't safe for me to drive. When I arrived, Jeff's mom asked if I was okay and I just cried.

I've learned that even way I say I am okay - there is no such thing in my world right now. There is numbness and then there is every feeling you can possible imagine at other times. In a split second those can flip like a light switch. During the process of grieving your soulmate, predicting how you will feel from one minute to the next is impossible. Little things creep up on you. I have to learn to live with my new "normal" and that is going to take significant effort.

While I want to live every moment to make Jeff proud, I find that I am still not living an intentional life. I am too enveloped in my own emotions that I can't see past them at the moment. Coping is strenuous and the mere thought of opening my eyes can be quite difficult. Each month, day, hour, minute, and second are going to be a challenge. With time, I will learn to manage and live with intention. I will seek to make Jeff proud and live the life we talked about living. Deep down, if he is out there, I know he understands this time and graces me with time to grieve, even when others may not.

A little over a month has passed and my depression has started to creep inside my soul. I am still in disbelief. I am still in shock. Life doesn't stop though. Everyone around me is living the day to day. They are working, laughing, eating, watching TV, doing all the things I wish I could have a smidgen of energy to do. It breaks my heart to be crippled by this grief as much as I was to live in deep sorrow and never let it go. I end this story here and now, but I have so much more to tell. Stay tuned.