Please Leave

“You want me to say that I want you to stay, So you should probably leave” ~ Chris Stapleton

“I will never be able to express my gratitude for your love and support adequately, but it’s time; everyone needs to leave.” These words were spoken with a shaky voice and a fair amount of hesitation, and they were undoubtedly some of the most difficult and candid words that I had uttered in the six weeks following my husband’s passing.

My incredible father was the unfortunate yet gracious recipient of this statement. He quietly contemplated my request as we sat on my front porch sipping coffee. With understandable uncertainty, he reluctantly agreed. He understood that after a month and a half of living in my home and managing most of the day-to-day needs, he needed to leave. My astute father realized that this request was not directed at him exclusively. It was a global and overarching appeal for space, and it was an important step forward.

As much as I appreciated the astoundingly compassionate community that my friends and family surrounded me with, I needed room to grieve. I had become acutely aware of the intense aversiveness for leaving me alone in the solitude of my heartache. The members of my support system were exceedingly coordinated in their approach to ensuring that someone was always with me, and I love them for that. Unfortunately, a significant element of grief is a solo sport.

While I was highly appreciative for the distraction that having a houseful of people provided, as time went on, I ultimately recognized that it was only prolonging the onset of the next phase of my grief. I certainly wasn’t ready to be left alone all the time, and as I wrote about in Help Wanted, I still need a great deal of support and assistance, but navigating grief is a massively personal expedition. I had come to grasp that it was necessary to experience some aspects of the journey in seclusion.

I realized that I needed to experience the tears that fell while I set three dinner plates at our table. I needed to have coffee on weekend mornings without Chris and allow myself to surrender to the loneliness. I needed to complete tasks that he had been responsible for; taking out the trash, getting the oil changed, and taking my kids shopping for hockey sticks. I needed to take my boys on our first long weekend away, just the three of us. These tasks all became indispensable components of my path toward healing. I recognized that doing things far outside of my comfort zone was arduous and intensely painful at times, but also essential elements of my grief journey, and most importantly, stepping stones to my consequent growth.

Most of my friends and family cautiously yet amiably complied when I requested space. Despite their initial concerns, I did not feel abandoned or deserted by those who love me. Conversely, I felt supported. It was vital for me to navigate this new normal and determine how to proceed as a single parent. My loved ones gave me what I needed by allowing me to grow, and I always knew they weren’t far away. I also recognized that my friends and family required their own space to grieve, and they couldn’t take those steps forward if they were constantly caring for my children and me.

My compassionate friends and family have not been offended on the days that I didn’t return their calls, nor were they vengeful when I called days later, begging them through sobs to come to sit with me. Together we have learned that grief is not formulaic, and our needs change constantly. It is part of the process. It is part of moving forward.

My friends and family gave me a remarkable gift by giving me space. The space allowed me to discover my newfound strength, which was a notable victory. As I heal, I have come to recognize that I don’t need the same forms of support that I required last week, last month, or last year. This is progress.

In the interest of transparency, I need to share that unfortunately, not everyone in my initial support system accepted my request for space with understanding and grace. Some felt that I had used them in the early days when I could barely function and leaned on them to hold me up. Others felt that my request for space was a line drawn in the sand and that it was disrespectful given all the time they had invested in my healing.

I share this not to discourage you but instead because you may encounter these reactions from those you believed were committed to helping you traverse your grief journey. I suggest expressing your gratitude and appreciation to these individuals for the support they afforded, but I implore you to stand your ground. Take the space and time you need. It is a critical part of the process.

My request for space was never intended to downplay the need for my support system. I will never forget that during those very dark first days and weeks, when simply getting out of bed was a true accomplishment, my family and friends were my lifelines. Thankfully, my needs have changed. I am stronger, more independent, and continuing to learn and grow.

If you find yourself supporting a grieving individual, please avoid judging their requests, needs, or motives. Know that they are working to understand their hurt and at the same time striving to find a path forward. Your support will take on multiple forms, some through shared moments and some through providing space. Both are gifts of equal importance.

If you are grieving a loss yourself, don’t be afraid to ask for what you need. Do not worry about offending friends or hurting feelings. You are doing your best, and those who genuinely love you will understand that. Invest in your recovery and surround yourself with those eager to give you what you need and willingly shift as your needs change.

I have emerged so much stronger for those quiet moments spent alone. I am grateful for the growth that resulted from the time and space I allowed for contemplation. Regardless of the challenges you face, I wish you the space you need in your path towards peace.

Love and Light,

The Unwavering Widow