The time of death is unpredictable - always. Death is a natural process. But when people die, it's scary! Is it possible to prepare for death? Regardless of whether it occurred as a result prolonged illness or a simple coincidence. We cannot change the past and the future, only the present remains. How to survive and survive death loved ones in this terrible present, especially if your beloved spouse or wife has died?
How to deal with the death of a husband
A woman who has lost her beloved husband goes through the following emotional stages that are considered normal: shock, denial of death, guilt, anger and resentment towards herself and others, depression. Let's figure out how to deal with feelings of despair and grief after losing a loved one. There are several ways to get out of this state:
Death is the logical end of life and there is nothing to be done about it. You need to find the strength within yourself to move on with your life.
This is setting new priorities. Yes, everything has changed, but it's time to reconsider life values, find new meaning life. You can’t live in the past, but you need to rejoice in past events. Treat yourself like a child, pamper yourself, learn to enjoy the little things every day again.
It could be a new business. Remember what you liked to do before, what brought pleasure and peace. Or maybe try something completely new? Choose a business that warms your soul and devote your free time to it.
Loneliness is good, but in moderation. Try to find new friends or remember old ones true friends. Share your experience with the younger generation, pay attention to children and grandchildren, if you have them. Don't be a recluse, it's just that it's much easier to get through adversity by sharing it with others.
The norm is the experience of loss for several years. If after several years the condition has not improved, you will need the help of specialists. The best thing you can do for your beloved deceased husband is to keep the memory of him and try to find the strength in yourself to enjoy life further and be happy!
How to deal with the death of your wife
It has long been known that the male psyche is more vulnerable than the female. Often, the death of a wife becomes a real blow for a man, especially if they have lived together for many years. The man understands that it is useless to look for his soul mate, and it is impossible to return. The stages of grief in men are similar to those of women after a loss. Psychologists give the following recommendations for getting out of this state, let's look at them.
Continue, as before, to do everything that was done before the death of his wife. Do not forget about hygiene, food, work and loved ones and in no case sink down and see yourself at the bottom of an empty bottle.
Try not to be alone. Do not withdraw into yourself, but try to look for new activities and communicate more.
Do not turn the apartment into a museum. Try not to create the illusion of the presence of your wife in the house, distribute her personal belongings. Of course, something should remind of her, for example, beautiful Foto or memorabilia.
Rejoice in the little things. Remember, the wife would like to see you happy, she loved you, so it would be bitter for her to see that you grieve for her for a long time. Contact a specialist if you understand that you cannot cope with the feeling of loss on your own, that depression is getting worse, do not hesitate to ask psychological help. Remember that you are not the only one, everything that happens to you has already happened to many people, and they coped with it!
Remember that life goes on! After all, someday everyone leaves - and this does not mean that the world has lost its meaning!
Having lost loved one, a man can be disappointed in life, stop noticing other women and generally withdraw into himself. Some even start drinking and smoking, losing themselves to society..
Even after such a serious grief as the death of your wife, try to be yourself, understand that alcoholism will not solve the problem and native person will not return. Chat more with different people . Some just listen, some give useful advice about coping with the death of his wife.
Do what you must
So that later you do not lament over the fact that you could not adequately spend in last way native person, approach the organization of funerals and commemorations with all seriousness and responsibility, even though you are now very, very bad. You must honor the memory of the departed wife, so everything must be organized perfectly.
Your main support is friends and family
Relatives will support you at home, reassure you, and friends will help you disperse bad thoughts and feel the taste for life again. If some time after the funeral you realize that the past does not let you go, do something with friends or relatives. There are many options: a picnic with the whole family, a hike in nature with a night fire and songs with a guitar, an excursion to historical Museum, a trip to a ski resort, etc..
Redo all unfinished business and fulfill unfulfilled dreams
This refers to joint cases that you once planned together and the dreams that have not been able to implement because of the loss of your fighting girlfriend. This, of course, will not return a loved one, but it will definitely help to survive the death of a loved one. You will be able to painlessly part with the past, realizing that there is nothing unresolved from your past life not left.
Break with the past
When you realize that you are ready to start living normally after the death of your wife, come to the cemetery, put flowers on the grave, put it in order, clearing it of leaves and dirt. If you are a believer, pray, ask the Lord to look after your beloved in heaven. Say goodbye to your wife, promising that you will visit her, and start new life– make new acquaintances, trying to improve your personal life, but do not forget about friends and family.
And find yourself new love you can on Teamo.ru. After all, this site is intended for serious acquaintances. Its main purpose is to connect the hearts of people, and not just to introduce them to each other. And if you still feel that you are not ready to arrange your personal life, do not arrange. But only do not delay with this, otherwise you can spend the rest of your life alone.
The article describes the causes and symptoms of male depression, as well as practical advice how to get a man out of this state.
Most women are genuinely surprised when it comes to male depression. "How? Do men get depressed? After all, to suffer, to worry, not to find a place for oneself, to grieve for any reason, to lose the meaning of life, as well as to sob into the pillow and beat in hysterics - exclusively for the female part.
Let's, however, turn our faces to our men and find out if they have peace of mind.
The main causes of depression
Psychology and symptoms of male blues
Men don't like to complain favorite hobby- show off: achievements, women, cars. And don't be fooled by depression. Therefore, to hear from the lips of a man “You know, I'm depressed” is an incredible case.
Even to themselves, they are afraid to admit it, although the symptoms are visible to the naked eye:
- decline physical strength, increased fatigue;
- poor appetite;
- Bad mood;
- feeling of loss of the meaning of life;
- craving for alcohol and drugs;
- increased aggressiveness;
- insomnia or restless sleep.
If some of these symptoms are observed in your man - give him a helping hand, try to get him out of the emotional quagmire.
How to get a man out of depression
The diagnosis is made, the man has depression. Perhaps you will feel confusion and even some fear, because you are also used to thinking that behind a man is like behind a stone wall. And now your wall has cracked.
Think about whether you can independently help him cope and get out of a protracted depression. You may find these practical tips helpful.
After the death of a loved one
old man
An older man is more difficult to get out of despondency than a young one. This will require special attention and care, because against the background of depression, chronic diseases can worsen and new ailments can develop. Therefore, the main care should be as follows:
- moderate physical activity;
- balanced nutrition in the morning, afternoon and evening;
- full sleep;
- drinking freshly squeezed juice, herbal tea;
- walks in the open air;
- communication with loved ones, especially with children, grandchildren.
On distance
If it turned out that you are far from your beloved man, and he has depression in full height- make him feel that you are always there:
- write text messages;
- make a phone call;
- contact via skype;
- send him a e-mail beautiful pictures;
- remind him of the upcoming meeting and the souvenirs that you have already prepared for him.
The only advice is not to overdo it with communication, let it be regular, but unobtrusive, so as not to provoke his discontent and aggression.
You can also ask your mutual friend take under the wing of a man who has fallen into depression, so that he is nearby a real man wishing him well and taking part in his recovery.
After divorce
Divorce is an unpleasant affair, leaving a heavy residue on the soul, possibly for the rest of your life. After all, whatever one may say, once both a woman and a man decided to live together, and divorce is evidence of the failure of both: they could not build and maintain relationships. It is especially difficult for a man to get out of depression if the wife was the initiator of the divorce.
Children and close friends can help. You can change the situation, take a person on vacation, to where he has long dreamed of visiting. It's great if a divorced man does what he loves, a hobby: photography, painting, books, what brings him real pleasure when time flows unnoticed.
And, perhaps most importantly, try to get along with ex-wife calm communication, forgive each other and wish a new happy life, talk on the phone, meet with mutual friends from time to time. Accept and realize the very fact of divorce and try to live a full life.
After the death of his wife
One of the most common causes that leads all, without exception, men to depression is the death of his wife. It is imperative to ensure lively warm communication between a widower and children and mutual acquaintances. To remember his wife, to grieve together, to recall together funny incidents from a lived life.
It is also useful to change the situation, to leave for a while from the house where they lived joint years. You can start repairs, change the interior.
In the most severe cases, you can seek help from a psychologist.
A man suffering from depression, first of all, needs the sincere care of loved ones. Communication should be calm, unobtrusive on a pleasant topic. The ideal interlocutor is a wife, best friend, possibly also a survivor hard times and depression. Very well defuse the situation with small children.
- Watch movies together about men who survived depression and returned to normal life again. If there is a desire to read books, let the sick person read books on similar topics.
- Don't sit in one place, under any pretext, go or go to nature, it is better away from the city - to the park, to the grove, to go fishing. Generally more physical activity. Plus good interlocutors.
- Don't give in to provocations if a man has an attack of aggression. Try not to respond to attacks, do not criticize, remain as calm as possible and be understanding. Joke, hug, put to bed.
- Provide a man healthy eating , full sleep. Try to avoid alcohol. In minimal quantities, it is acceptable: dinner, candles, a glass of wine.
- In severe cases consult a specialist, you may need to prescribe medications.
Be healthy, and let depression bypass you and your beloved men!
In fact, I don't think about her all the time. For example, during work or a conversation, this is simply not possible. But those periods when I don't think about her are perhaps the worst. Because even without realizing the reason, I feel that I feel uneasy, I lack something. There are such dreams in which nothing terrible seems to happen, nothing significant that could be told about at breakfast, but at the same time the whole atmosphere of sleep, the special taste of a nightmare, leaves an impression of horror. Also here. I notice that the rowan berries are starting to turn red, and for a second I can’t figure out why exactly the rowan plunges me into depression. I hear the chime of the clock, and something is missing in it, some kind of not so sound. What happened to the world, why does everything look so flat, colorless, worn out? And then I remember.
Here's something else that scares me. Nature will take its toll, the excruciating pain will gradually subside, nightmares will pass, but then what? Just apathy, dead boredom? Will there ever be a time when I stop asking why the whole world has become a squalid alley for me, because the dirt and filth of desolation have become the norm for me? Is grief followed by boredom with a touch of slight nausea?
Feelings, feelings and feelings. Let me start thinking. If you think soberly, what new did H.'s death bring to my perception of the world? What reason to doubt what I have always believed? I am well aware that every day people around the world are dying, and worse things are happening. I must say that I took this into account, I was warned, and I warned myself - do not count on world happiness. Moreover, suffering is foreseen, it is part of the plan. We were told, "Blessed are those who mourn," and I agreed with that. I didn't get anything that I didn't expect. Certainly, a big difference when it happened to you, and not to others, and not in imagination, but in reality. Yes, but how can a sane person understand this difference? Especially if his faith was true and his sympathy for the sorrows of others was sincere? The explanation is enough, even too simple. If my house collapsed from one breath, then it was House of cards. The faith that "took everything into account" was imaginary. "Take into account" does not mean "empathize." If I really cared about other people's sorrows, as I believed, I would not be so crushed by my own grief. It was an imaginary faith playing with harmless chips, on which pieces of paper were pasted with the words: "sickness", "pain", "death" and "loneliness". I believed that my rope was strong enough until it was so important, but when the question arose of whether it could support my weight, it turned out that I never believed in its strength.
Bridge lovers say that you must definitely play for money, otherwise interest is lost. Same here. If you do not put anything at stake, then it does not matter if there is a God, there is no God, He is merciful, or an evil cosmic sadist, is there immortal life or she is not. And you will never realize how important this is to you until you start playing not for chips and not for sixpence, but bet everything you have, to the last penny. Only this can shake someone like me and make me reconsider my views, start thinking and believing in a new way. This one needs to be given a good cuff in order to bring him to his senses. Sometimes the truth can be obtained only by torture, and only under torture will you find out the truth yourself.
I must confess (H. herself would have achieved this recognition in no time) that if my house is built of maps, the sooner it is destroyed, the better. And only suffering can destroy it. And then all the arguments about the Cosmic Sadist and the Eternal Vivisector become a meaningless and useless hypothesis.
Does my last entry say that I am incurable, even when reality breaks my dream into small pieces, I still continue to mope, confuse everything even more until the first shock has passed, and only then stupidly and patiently begin to glue the pieces . And will it always be like this? every time my house falls apart, do I have to rebuild it? Isn't that what I'm doing now?
Of course, it is possible that once what I call "restoration of faith" occurs, it will turn out to be just another house of cards. I won't know until the next click, say when I get sick myself. incurable disease or war will break out, or I will ruin myself by making some terrible mistake at work. But two questions arise: in what sense can this be called a house of cards, because what I believe is just a dream, or am I only dreaming that I believe?
To be honest, on what basis can I trust what I thought a week ago more than what I think now? I'm pretty sure that basically, I'm more normal now than I was in the first weeks. How can you trust the desperate imagination of a man who is in a semi-conscious state, as after a concussion?
Because just because there was no attempt to wishful thinking? Because my thoughts were so terrible, which is why they are most likely the closest to the truth? After all, not only pleasant, but also terrible dreams can come true. So perishing they were disgusting? No, I even liked them in their own way. I am aware that I am slightly resistant to a more pleasant option. All my reasoning about the Cosmic Sadist was most likely not a reflection of thoughts, but an expression of hatred. I took a vengeful pleasure from them, the only pleasure available to a man in torment, the pleasure of hitting back. Just an insulting curse - laid out to God everything that I think about Him. And of course, as always, after insulting someone in strong terms, you add: “I really didn’t believe what I said myself.” I only wanted to offend Him and His followers. Such statements always bring some pleasure. He expressed everything that boiled over. After that, you feel better for a while.
But the mood is not proof. Of course, the cat will squeal and scratch, trying to escape from the hands of the veterinarian, and if it succeeds, it will bite. The question is who is he: a healer or a vivisector. The behavior of the cat does not shed any light on this question.
I can believe that He is the healer if I think of my own suffering. It's harder when I think about how she suffered. The agony of grief cannot be compared to physical pain. Only fools claim that moral suffering is a hundred times worse than physical. The mind always has the ability to recover. The worst thing that can happen is that the heavy thoughts come back again and again, but the physical pain can be absolutely endless. Grief is a bomb carrier flying in circles and dropping another bomb, describing another circle and returning to the target. Physical suffering is like a constant barrage of fire in the trenches of the First World War, bombardments lasting for hours without respite. Thoughts are never static, while pain is often static.
What is my love if I think more about my own than her suffering? Even my crazy pleas "Come back, come back!" - First of all, what I want for myself. I never wondered, if such a thing were possible, would it be good for her? I want her back to restore my past. For her, I could not wish anything worse: to experience death and return to earth, so that again, albeit later, go through dying? Stephen is considered the first martyr, maybe the torment of Lazarus was worse?
I begin to understand. In terms of strength, my love for her was about the same as my faith in God. True, I will not exaggerate. How much my faith was imaginary and my love selfish, only God knows. I don't know. Maybe it's too strong a word, especially when it comes to my love. But neither was, as I thought, true, and in both there was quite a bit of a castle of cards.
What difference does it make how I grieve and what I do with my grief? What difference does it make, how I remember it and whether I remember it at all? Nothing will ease her past suffering. Past suffering. How do I know that all her suffering is in the past?
I never believed, considering it absolutely incredible, that the most devoted soul to God immediately, as soon as the last wheeze escapes the throat of a dying person, finds peace and rest. To believe it now is wishful thinking. H. was a bright personality, direct, light soul like a sword made of hardened steel. But she was not a saint. A sinful woman married to a sinful man. Two patients of God who still need to be healed. I know that it is necessary not only to dry the tears, but also to clean the stains so that the sword shines even brighter.
But please, oh God, be careful, be careful. Month after month, week after week You stretched her poor body on the rack while she was still in it. Isn't it enough?
The most terrible thing is that a perfect merciful God in this case is no better than a Cosmic Sadist. The more we believe that God hurts only to heal, the less we hope that he will hear our passionate pleas to be "careful."
A cruel man can be appeased with a bribe, or he himself will finally get tired of his tiresome occupation, or an unexpected attack of mercy may be found on him, as an alcoholic suddenly begins a period of sobriety. But suppose you are dealing with a skilled surgeon who has the best of intentions. The more conscientious and kind he is, the more ruthlessly he will cut. If he pauses in response to your pleas, or even stops the operation without finishing, then all the suffering that you have experienced up to this point will be in vain. But is this extreme torture really necessary? Well, decide for yourself, your choice. Suffering is inevitable. If they are meaningless, then there is no God, and if He is, then He is evil. But if there is a God and he is just, then torture is necessary. Because no even slightly decent being would allow unnecessary suffering.
Either way, we're doomed to suffer
What do those who say, "I do not fear God, because I know that He is merciful" mean? Have they never been to the dentist?
There, no less suffering is unbearable. And you stammer: "If I could take this torment, even the most terrible, instead of her." But no one knows how serious this high rate because you're not really risking anything. And if such an opportunity suddenly presented itself, we would discover for ourselves how seriously we were ready for such a sacrifice. And are we allowed such a choice?
It was only allowed to One, we are told, and I again begin to believe that He did everything possible in atonement for sins. He answers our babble: “You can’t and you don’t dare. I could and I dared."
Something unexpected happened this morning. For many reasons, which in themselves are by no means mysterious, I felt a kind of lightness in my heart, which I had not felt for many weeks. First, I think I'm starting to recover physically after a lot of stress and fatigue. The day before I worked 12 hours and was not very tired, I slept well at night; and after two weeks of low gray skies and immobile, damp stuffiness, suddenly the sun came out and shone, a fresh breeze blew, and suddenly, at the very moment when, for the first time in all that time, I missed her less, I remembered her especially well. And it really was something, almost better than a memory; some sudden and inexplicable vision. It would be too much to say that I saw her, but nevertheless these words suggest themselves. It was as if someone lifted the veil of grief, and the barrier that separated us disappeared.
Why didn't anyone tell me about all this? How easily would I judge another in the same situation? I could say, “He recovered from his loss. He began to forget his wife," and the truth is this: "He remembers her better because he has partially recovered." And this is a fact. I think I can explain why this makes sense. You cannot see clearly if your eyes are clouded with tears. And you will never get exactly what you want if you want it too much, and even if you get it, you will not be able to properly dispose of what you have received.
“We need to have a serious talk” - such an introduction makes everyone fall into silence. “Today I must certainly get a good night's sleep” - and you will most likely spend a sleepless night. Best drinks they are incompetently translated when they are especially thirsty. Does not the same thing happen when we think of our dead, and it is because of our despair that iron curtain and it seems to us that we are looking into the void? Those who ask (especially those who ask very much) will not receive anything. And perhaps they won't.
And the same, perhaps, with God. Gradually, I began to feel that the door was ajar, there was no longer a lock and a bolt. Was it my desperate need that caused the door to be slammed in my face? Maybe just when your soul is crying out for help, God can't give it to you? Just as it is difficult to help a drowning man if he is floundering and grabbing everything. Perhaps you have become deafened by your own screams and therefore do not hear the voice you long to hear?
On the other hand, "knock, let it be opened." But "knocking" doesn't mean drumming and kicking doors like crazy. And again: "He who has will be rewarded." First of all, one must have the ability to receive. If you do not have this skill, then no one, even the most powerful being, will be able to give you anything. Perhaps it is the intensity of your desire that temporarily destroys your ability to receive.
Any mistakes are possible when you are dealing with Him. A very long time ago, when we were not yet married, one morning, when she was getting ready for work, she was suddenly seized by an inexplicable feeling that He was here, nearby, literally behind her shoulder, as if demanding her attention. Of course, not being a saint, she thought, as usual, that she was required to fulfill some duty, or to repent of something. Finally, she gave in - I know how we try to put it off - and stood before Him. It turned out, on the contrary, He wanted to repay her, and she was instantly filled with joy.
I think I'm beginning to understand why grief is like waiting for fear. Because the violation of a whole complex of various impulses becomes habitual. Every thought, every feeling, every movement of my soul was connected with X. She was their target, she is no more. Out of habit, I take my bow, adjust the arrow, pull the string and suddenly I remember ... and put the bow back. So many roads can lead me to it. I stubbornly go the only one, one of many. But I came across a border barrier, there is no further way. So many roads opened before me; now, wherever you turn - a complete dead end.
For good wife unites in one person all who you need on life path. What was she to me? She was my daughter and my mother, my student and my teacher, my servant and my master. And always, combining all these qualities in herself, she was still my faithful comrade, friend, companion, fellow soldier. my beloved; and at the same time she gave me everything that no male friendship could give me (and I had many friends). Moreover, if we never fell in love with each other, we would still be always together and make a lot of noise. This is what I meant when I once praised her for " male dignity". She immediately silenced me by asking how I would like it if she complimented my feminine qualities. That was a good riposte, my dear. But nevertheless, there was something of the Amazon in her, of Penthesilia and Camilla. And you, like me, were proud of it and were glad that I noticed and appreciated it.
Solomon called his wife Sister. Is it possible to consider a woman a perfect wife if at least once, at a certain moment, in a certain mood, a man does not feel the need to call her Brother?
I'm always drawn to say about our marriage: it was too good to last forever .. Although you can look at it in different ways. To put it pessimistically, as soon as God saw how happy His creatures were, He immediately decided to put an end to it. "Not allowed!". So the hostess of the party, who invited you to sherry, immediately separates the two guests as soon as they are truly carried away. interesting conversation. On the other hand, it can mean: “They have reached perfection. It became what it was meant to be. Therefore, there is no point in continuing.” As if God said: “Well done! You have achieved mastery. I am very pleased with you. Now let's move on to the next exercise." Once you have learned to decide quadratic equations, you even like to solve them, but the topic is completed, the teacher moves on to the next material.
Because we have learned something and achieved some goal. Between husband and wife there is always a hidden or open struggle of the sexes, until living together does not erase all contradictions. Considering female fidelity, directness and courage as signs of masculinity is the same arrogance as calling tenderness and sensitivity of a man femininity. What a miserable and perverse part of humanity must be the majority of men and women who allow such arrogance! Marriage heals her. By joining in marriage, the two merge into one full-fledged human being. "He created them in his own image and likeness." Paradoxically, the triumph of sexuality leads us to something that is much higher than sex.
And then one of them dies. And we think that love has been cut off at the root; so the dance is interrupted in the middle of the steps, or only a blossoming flower is plucked, something interferes from outside and disrupts the natural development of things. Don't know. If, as I stubbornly assume, the dead experience the pain of separation no less than the living (this may be one of the trials that we undergo in purgatory), then for all lovers without exception, grief is a universal and integral part of the love experience. It follows marriage in the same way that marriage is a natural consequence of courtship, as autumn follows summer. This is not the end of the process, but its next phase, not the interruption of the dance, but the next step. We give a part of ourselves to our beloved while she is alive. Then we begin to perform the next, tragic step of our dance, when we must learn to give a part of ourselves, despite the fact that the body shell of the partner has disappeared, learn to love the very essence of the deceased, and not our memory, or our own grief, or liberation from it, or our own love.
Now, when I think back, I see that just recently I was most concerned with memory and fears that it was not deceiving me. It is not clear why (the only thing that comes to mind is God's mercy), I stopped worrying about it. And what is interesting, as soon as this question ceased to occupy me, I began to meet her at every turn. “Meet” is perhaps too strong a word. I don't mean that I see her or hear her voice, nothing of the sort. I do not even mean a particularly strong emotional experience at any particular moment. Rather, it is a constant vague but deep feeling that she is always with me - a fact that needs to be taken into account. "Take into account" is perhaps an unfortunate wording. Sounds like she was some sort of a brawler. How can I be more precise? How about "serious reality", "stubborn reality"? As if everything experienced tells me: “It just so happened that you are terribly glad that she exists. But remember, it is and will always be, whether you like it or not. Your wishes are not taken into account.
Well, what did I come up with? Just like any other widower who stops, leaning on his spade, and says: “Thank you, Lord. I shouldn't complain. I miss her beyond measure. But it is said - trials have been sent down to us. We came to the same place: a simple guy with his shovel and me, who is not a master at digging at all, not with a shovel, or anything. And, of course, the fact that we "have been sent down a test" must be correctly understood. God does not try to test how true or strong my faith or love is, He already knew this. I didn't know this. He puts us at the same time in the dock, the seat of the witness and the seat of the judge. He knew from the beginning that my temple was a house of cards. And the only way to make me understand it is to destroy it.
So quickly survive the grief? But the words are ambiguous. Let's say the patient recovered from an operation for appendicitis. A completely different story, if his leg was amputated, after such an operation either the stump will heal or the patient will die. If the wound heals, the unbearable and endless pain will subside. The patient is strong and hobbles on his wooden leg. He recovered. But he will certainly experience pain in the cult for the rest of his life, and at times quite severe. He will always be alone. Most likely, he will not forget about it for a minute. Everything will change for him: how he will wash, dress, sit down and get up, even lie in bed, he will be different. His whole life has changed. He lost many of the pleasures and activities that he used to take for granted, even his duties changed. I'm just learning how to use crutches now. Maybe in time I'll get a prosthesis. But I will never have two legs again.
Still, I will not deny that in some sense I "feel better" and this feeling is associated with a sense of shame, as if I was obliged to cherish and kindle my grief and remain unhappy. I once read about it but never imagined it would happen to me too. I am sure that H. would not approve of this, she would say that it is stupid. And I'm pretty sure God doesn't approve of that. What is behind this?
Partly, of course, vanity. We want to prove to ourselves that we are lovers in the highest sense, tragic heroes, and not simple privates in huge army lost their loved ones, trudging with difficulty and just trying to survive. But that doesn't explain everything either.
I think there is some confusion here as well. In fact, we do not want the continuation of these pangs of grief that we experience in the first weeks after the death of loved ones, no one wants this. We want our grief to be something of a recurring symptom, and we confuse the symptom with the disease itself. Last night I wrote that grief after the loss of a spouse is not the end of love, but its next phase, like Honeymoon. We want to go through this phase with our love and loyalty. And if it causes us pain (which is certainly true), we must accept this pain as an integral part of this phase. We don't want to avoid pain, say, at the cost of a divorce. It would mean killing the dead one more time. We were one flesh. Now that half of it has been cut off, we won't pretend we're still one. We are still husband and wife, we are still in love, and therefore we will still be in pain. But, of course, if we understand ourselves well, we do not want this pain for the sake of pain itself. The less it hurts, the better, the stronger the marriage bond. And the more joy remains between the dead and those left to live, the better.
Better in every way. Because, as I have found, the passion of our grief does not bring us closer to the dead, but, on the contrary, moves us away from them. It's getting clearer and clearer to me. When I grieve the least - most often in the morning while taking a bath - she bursts into my thoughts, in all her reality and uniqueness. Not at all like in the worst moments, when my despair makes me see everything from one angle and gives everything excessive pity, pompous solemnity, and when she herself appears, in all her truth. Such moments are the best and most refreshing.
I remember, although now I can’t remember exactly where, what in different folk tales and ballads the dead do not want us to mourn for them, they beg us to stop mourning them. The meaning of this may be much deeper than I thought. If so, then our grandfathers were mistaken. All these (sometimes for the rest of your life) mourning rituals - visiting graves, celebrating anniversaries, or leaving the deceased’s room untouched so that “everything is as it was with him”, never mention his name, or mention it, but in a special voice, or even cook to the deceased attire (like Queen Victoria) every evening before dinner - it all smacks of mummification. It makes the dead even more dead. Maybe this was (albeit unconsciously) the goal? Something very primitive is at work here. Let the dead remain dead, it is important for the primitive mind of the savage to be sure that they have not sneaked into the world of the living unnoticed. Make them stay where they belong at any cost. Of course, all these rituals confirm death. And perhaps this is the result that is desired, at least for those who perform these rituals.
But I have no right to judge them. All this is just guesswork; I'd rather take care of myself. I have, no matter how look, a simple program. I will address her as often as possible with joy. I will greet her with a laugh. The less I mourn her, the closer I am to her. Program, admirable. Unfortunately not feasible. Today the hellish torments of the first days have returned again; crazy words, a bitter feeling of resentment, an internal trembling somewhere in the stomach, the unreality of a nightmare., I choke on tears. For grief never “stands still”. You just left the next phase, but you return to it, again and again. All repeats. Do I dare to hope that I am moving not in a circle, but in a spiral?
And if in a spiral, then up or down?
How often (will it always be?) will the feeling of emptiness overwhelm me, as if it were the first time, and make me exclaim: “Never, until this very moment, have I realized the full horror of my loss”? They cut off the same leg again and again. Again and again I feel the knife cutting through my flesh.
They say a coward dies many times, and the same can be said about the death of a loved one. Did the eagle find every time a new liver from Prometheus, again and again pulled out and ate it?
This is the fourth and last clean notebook, which was found in the house, almost blank, except for a few pages filled in J.'s hand with ancient arithmetic exercises. I decided for myself, the notebook will end, and I will stop my notes. I will not specifically buy new notebooks. Until now, these notes have served as my salvation from complete collapse, my last resort, they helped me in some way. On the other hand, it turns out that they are based on some kind of confusion. I thought I could describe the state, draw geographical map of his suffering. But it turned out that grief is not a state, but a process. Here we need not geography, but history. And if I don't stop writing this story by putting an arbitrary end, then there is no reason to stop. After all, every day there is something new that needs to be entered in the diary. Grief is like a long winding valley where a new landscape opens up to you at every turn, but, as I said, this is not necessary, sometimes, on the contrary, a different kind of surprise awaits you around the next turn: turning, you discover with amazement that you are in the same place that seemed to have passed a few hours ago. This is where you start to think, maybe this is not a valley at all, but a trench in the form of a vicious circle. No, this is not so, even if something is repeated, then in a different sequence.
Here, for example, is another new phase, a new loss. I try to walk more, it's stupid to even try to sleep if you don't get tired enough. Today I decided to visit my favorite places where I wandered for hours in my single years. This time the face of nature did not look empty and devoid of beauty, the world no longer seemed like a squalid street (as I complained just a few days ago). On the contrary, each newly opened view, each bush or group of trees filled me with the same happiness that I experienced before meeting X. But this invitation to happiness seemed terrible to me. The happiness that was offered to me had no taste. I realized that I do not want such happiness. The very possibility of going back to the past scares me. Such a fate - the most terrible of all possible - to reach a state where love and marriage in retrospect turn out to be just a sweet episode - like a holiday that briefly disrupted the usual, monotonous life that ended, and I am again the same as I was, unchanged, ordinary. And over time, the past holiday seems distant and unreal, so foreign to the very fabric of my history that it seems that all this was not with me, but with someone else. This would mean that she died for me a second time, and this loss would be even worse than the first. Anything but this.
Do you know, my love, what you took with you when you left me? You took my past with you, even the past I had before I met you. I was wrong in thinking that my stump heals after amputation. I have been deceived, for there are so many kinds of pain that time after time it takes me by surprise.
But I made two for myself important discoveries- I really know myself too well to believe that the benefits of them will be "lasting". My mind, turning to God, no longer rests on closed door; turning to H., he does not meet the absolute, as before, emptiness, I am no longer concerned with how to mentally evoke its image. My notes do not reflect the whole process, as I hoped, but only individual moments. Maybe these changes are hard to catch. It was not a sudden insight and a complete emotional restructuring. So, for example, a cold room heats up, or brightens in the morning, when you first notice that it has noticeably warmed up or brightened, it turns out that it gradually became warmer and lighter before you noticed it.
I wrote about myself, and about H., and about God. It's in that order. Such an order and such proportions are absolutely unacceptable. It never occurred to me to praise them. And that would be very helpful for me. Praise is one of the manifestations of love, bringing some element of joy into it. And praise should be in the following order: Him as a giver, and her as a gift. After all, giving praise, we, to some extent, get pleasure from the object of praise, no matter how far from us it may be. I should give praise more often. I lost the ability to experience the pleasure that X gave me. And I got so lost in my doubts that I deprived myself of the joy that (if His mercy is unlimited) I could sometimes receive from God. When I give praise, I can enjoy it to some extent, and at the same time, I can rejoice in Him to some extent. It's better than nothing.
But perhaps I am deprived of this gift. I somehow compared it to a sword. To some extent this is true. But in fact it is completely untrue and misleading. This is where balance needs to be maintained. I should have added: “but at the same time it is like a flowering garden, like a labyrinth, a garden bush, a wall within a wall, fence after fence, the further you go into it, the more mystery more fragrant and fruitful life."
And praising everything created by God, I must exclaim: “Praise to you, Lord, for you created all this!”
And praising the garden, we praise the Gardener, praising the sword - the blacksmith who forged it. Praise to Life, giving life, and Beauty, giving beauty.
"She is in the hands of the Lord." And when I compare it with a sword, this comparison is filled with new energy. May be, earthly life that I shared with her was only part of the temptation. Perhaps He is already grasping the hilt of a new sword and brandishing it in the air, causing lightning. "Real Jerusalem Steel".
Last night there was one moment that cannot be described in words, one can only make some comparisons. Imagine a person in pitch darkness. He thinks he is in some kind of basement or in a dungeon. And suddenly an incomprehensible sound was heard. He assumes that the sound is coming from somewhere far away - either the sound of the waves, or the rustling of trees in the wind, or maybe the kettle is boiling somewhere half a mile away. If he hears all this, then he is not in the basement, but in the wild, he is free. Or this sound is somewhere nearby, it is someone's stifled laughter. If so, then he is not alone, next to him in the darkness is a friend. Either way, it's a good sound. Still, I'm not crazy to think that this experience proves anything. This is just an attempt to present some idea, which I have always theoretically allowed, the idea is that I, like any mortal, can misunderstand the situation in which I find myself.
Five senses; incurably abstract thinking; selective random memory; a whole set of prejudices and unsubstantiated assumptions, there are so many of them that I can only investigate a certain, very small part, and sometimes I don’t even suspect that they exist. What part of reality is capable of passing through such an imperfect apparatus?
I'll try my best to stay out of the woods. More and more, two very different beliefs come over me. One of them is the Eternal Veterinarian is much more cruel and ruthless than we can imagine in the worst imagination.. The second is "everything will be fine, everything will be fine, everything will be fine"
It doesn't matter that I don't have any good photographs of X left. It doesn't matter - almost none - if her image in my memory is imperfect. Images, whether they are on paper or in our memory, are not important in themselves. They are only slightly similar to the original. Draw a parallel to more high level. Tomorrow morning the priest will give me a small round, thin, cold and tasteless cookie. Is it good or bad that prosvirka does not even approximately resemble what it reunites me with? I need Christ, not something that resembles him. I need X herself, not something like her. For real Good photo over time, it can become a trap, a terror, and a hindrance.
Images are probably useful, otherwise they wouldn't be so popular. (It doesn't matter if the statues and pictures exist outside of our minds, or are figurative constructs inside of it.) Personally, I think that their danger is more than obvious. Images of a saint become holy images, they themselves become sacred. My idea of God is not an idea of divinity. It must be questioned from time to time. He loosens it himself. He himself is a great iconoclast. Isn't constant doubt one of the signs of His existence? A perfect example is incarnation, it does not leave a stone unturned from the early ideas of the coming of the Messiah. Most people are offended by iconoclasm, blessed are those who are not offended by it. But the same thing happens when we make our own prayers. Reality itself is iconoclastic. Your earthly beloved, even in life, constantly triumphs over your idea of her. This is exactly what you want; you want exactly her, with her resistance, her mistakes, her shortcomings, her unpredictability. That's right: living, real her, and not her images or memory of her, we continue to love even after her death.
But "this" is not yet imaginable. In this respect, she and all the dead are like God. In this respect, continuing to love her in some way is the same as loving Him. In both cases, I must stretch out the arms of love - the eyes of love are not suitable here - towards reality, in spite of and through the unsteady phantasmagoria of all my reflections, passions and imagination. I must not remain with the phantasmogoria itself and worship it instead of Him, or love it instead of X. Not my idea of God, but God himself. Not my idea X., but her own. Yes, and also not the idea of a neighbor, but the neighbor himself. Are we making the same mistake with the living, even with the people next to us in the same room? Do we talk and behave as if we are dealing not with the person himself, but with his image - almost exact, created by our imagination? And the difference between the real and the person we imagine becomes quite striking, before we finally admit it to ourselves. IN real life(and not in novels), if you look closely, he in his statements and behavior comes out of "character", from what we call his character. He always unexpectedly plays a card that we didn't know we had.
I believe that I misjudge others based on the fact that they make the same mistake with me. And we all think we got to the bottom of each other.
It may turn out that all this time, in Once again I was folding a house of cards. If so, He will destroy it again with one click. And he will do it every time he deems it necessary. Unless he is convinced that I am incorrigible, and I do not end up in hell, where I will forever build card palaces, "free among the dead."
But what if I come gradually to God, then only in the hope that He will lead me to her? But at the same time, I perfectly understand that you cannot use God as a way to achieve your goal. He must be the end and not the means, He is the end of the path and not the path itself, otherwise you will never come close to Him. This is the main mistake of various popular pictures depicting happy reunions with relatives and friends "in the beyond future", the mistake is not in the simple and very earthly images themselves, but in the fact that what they call the end of the path is actually only intermediate point on the way to the true end.
Oh, God, is it only on these terms? Can I meet her if only I love You so much that I don't care if I meet her or not? Think, oh Lord, this is how we see it. What would you think of me if I told the kids, “No candy! Here, grow up big and stop wanting them, then you can eat as many sweets as you like!
If I knew for sure that we were separated forever, and that she had forgotten about my existence forever - but this would bring her joy and peace, I would, of course, say: “Please, I agree, go ahead!” Just as if, in earthly life, I could cure her of cancer by agreeing to never see her again, in that very second I would make every effort to never see her again. I would have to agree, like any decent person. But, unfortunately, I was not given that choice.
When I ask all these questions to God, I get no answer. But this is not the old "There will be no answer!". This is not a door slammed in front of your nose. Rather, it is a calm, obviously without any sympathy, look. As if He shook his head not in refusal, but as if not wanting to discuss the issue. As if to say: "Calm down, my child, you don't understand." Can a mortal ask God questions that He does not consider it necessary to answer? And very simple, I think. Pointless questions don't require an answer. How many hours are in one mile? Yellow round or square? A good half of our great theological and metaphysical problems are like these, I fear.
And if you think about it carefully, then I don’t have any practical problems at all. I know two great commandments and I will keep them. With her death, one problem went away. As long as she was alive, she could practically be more important to me than God, I could do what she wanted, not God; if there was a question of choice. Now I am facing a problem where there is nothing I can do. There was only a load of feelings, motives and other things of the same kind. I have to deal with this myself. I don't believe this is God's problem.
Gift of God. Rendezvous with the dead. No matter how much I think, nothing comes to mind, except for the association with playing chips. Or blank checks. My idea, if you can call it an idea, that chips are a risky attempt at extrapolating just a few very short Earth episodes. And I suspect that these episodes are not the most significant, maybe even less important than those that I take into account. The idea of a blank check is also an extrapolation. In reality, both (trying to win or cash on a check) are likely to shatter all ideas about both chips and checks (moreover, the relationship of both ideas to each other).
Mystical reunion, on the one hand. Resurrection from the dead, on the other. I cannot reach even a hint of an image, or find a formula, or even just feel what unites them. They are united by reality (and this understanding is given to us). Reality is another iconoclast. Yes, heaven will solve all our problems, but I think that without demonstrating a skillful smoothing over of all our apparently contradictory ideas, we will immediately have the ground knocked out from under our feet with our ideas. We will see that there was no problem at all.
And again and again the same experience will arise, which I can not describe in any way, except to compare it with muffled laughter in the dark. Guessing that the only true answer is crushing and disarming simplicity.
We often think that the dead can see us. And we conclude from this, whether or not there are reasons for this, that if this is true, then they see us more clearly than in life. Does H. now see how much foam and tinsel was in what we both called "my love"? Let it be so. Look your best, dear. I won't hide anything from you, even if I could. We didn't idealize each other. We had no secrets from each other. You knew all my weaknesses. And if now, from there, you see something worse, I can accept it. And you can too. Reprimand, explain, tease, forgive. Because one of the miracles of love is that it gives both, especially a woman, the ability to see through a partner, despite being bewitched by love, while at the same time not being freed from her spell.
To some extent, this is the ability to see everything, like God. His love and His knowledge are inseparable and inseparable from Himself. We can always say: He sees because he loves, and he loves because he sees.
Sometimes, oh Lord, we tend to ask You, if You wanted to see us as pure as lilies, then why didn't You create a world like a lily meadow? I believe it's because You set up a great experiment. Although no, You do not need experiments, You already know everything. Rather, it was a great undertaking: to create an organism, but at the same time a spirit, to create a terrible oxymoron, a "spiritual animal." Take a poor primitive creature, a creature with exposed nerve endings, with a stomach that constantly requires food, an animal that needs a female in order to reproduce, and order: “Now live yourself. And become a god."
In one of the previous notebooks, I wrote that if I were suddenly presented with something even remotely similar to the proof of the existence of X, I still would not believe it. Easier said than done. Even now, after what I experienced last night, I'm not going to take this as evidence of a connection with her. But the very "quality" of the experience, although it proves nothing, is worth trying to describe. It was completely devoid of any emotion. It was like her mind collided with mine for a moment. It is the mind, and not the "soul", what we usually think of as the soul. The absolute underside of what we call "fusion of souls." Not at all the notorious meeting of two lovers, rather, it looks like phone call or a telegram from her, with some kind of news or order. No specific message - just mind and attention. There was no feeling of joy or sadness, no love in the usual sense, no lack of love. Until now, I could not imagine that the dead could be so, perhaps, businesslike. At the same time, I experienced an extraordinary feeling of infinite and joyful intimacy. Intimacy that has nothing to do with feelings or emotions.
If these were echoes of my unconscious state, then my "unconsciousness" turns out to be much more interesting in its depth than psychologists imagine. First of all, it is much less primitive than my consciousness.
It didn't matter what it was, but my mind cleared up like a house after general cleaning. This is how the dead should be - pure reason. Any Greek philosopher would not have been surprised by what I experienced. He would not have expected anything else: if anything remains after our death, then this is the mind. So far, the idea has made me shudder. The lack of emotion has turned me off. But at my contact (I don't know, real or imaginary), I didn't feel any disgust, because I realized that emotions are no longer needed here. It was complete, endless intimacy, all-encompassing and healing, but devoid of feeling. Perhaps this intimacy is love itself, which in life is always accompanied by emotions, not because love itself is a feeling, or because it is always accompanied by emotions, but because our alive soul, our nervous system, our imagination willy-nilly must react in its own way to love? If so, how much more prejudice must I put aside! A society or commune where pure reason reigns cannot be cold, gray and insensitive. On the other hand, it shouldn't be something that people attach terms like "spiritual" or "mystical" or "holy" to. If I could only glance, cast one glance, then I would use (I am a little afraid to use them) other definitions. Bright? Glad? Brave? Attentive? Spicy? Vigilant? First of all, whole. Absolutely reliable. No nonsense when it comes to the dead.
And when I say "intelligence", I also mean will. Attention is act of will. Mind in action is basically will. And for me this is the complete solution of all issues.
Shortly before the end, I asked her: "Could you come to me - if it's allowed - when it's my turn to die?" “It is allowed!” she said, “If I find myself in heaven, it will be difficult to keep me, and if in hell, I will smash everything to pieces there.” She understood that we were speaking in conventional mythological language with some element of comedy. And she even winked at me through her tears. But there was no myth and not a shadow of a joke in the will that permeated her whole being, in a will that was deeper than any feeling.
However, although I am less confused about the definition of pure reason, I must not bend the stick. We should not forget about the resurrection from the dead, although we do not understand what this means. We cannot comprehend this, which is probably for the best.
Hello dear readers. Today I would like to talk about how to survive the death of a beloved wife. The topic is very complex and multifaceted. After all, when such a tragedy occurs in a family, many do not cope and this leads to serious consequences. People withdraw into themselves, close themselves off from communication, which can lead to depression, neurosis, and more terrible situations.
vicissitudes of fate
Always a great grief. There is no single rule in the world for how to deal with this misfortune. Everyone lives this moment individually.
Death cannot be dealt with. She does not accept bribes, does not look at the title or status. She is the same for everyone. For the rich and the poor, for the young and the old, for the famous and ordinary people. Death has no rules of the game. She comes and takes away.
Different cultures and religions have their own special relationship with death. For some, this is liberation from worldly life, leaving for best world. Others see it as a necessity for rebirth.
It's not easy to talk about this topic. But it is even more difficult when you face death face to face. The loss of a loved one is, in my opinion, one of the most strong feelings in life.
Impossible to be ready
The sudden death of a loved one is shocking. But even in a situation where you know it's going to happen, it's not easy to prepare for it. Even when your loved one is terminally ill, and you understand that death will come for him.
Much easier to cope with the departure of his wife to another man. It is possible to try to return it, try to improve relations, change and try all over again. After all, she was still alive. When death takes a person, nothing can be done about it. It is no longer possible to return a loved one.
Talk about death is not the most common. Many people avoid this topic because it's hard to talk about it. That is how it is. But we need to talk about it. This life process. We are born and we die. And often people go into a deep depression precisely because they have never thought about or talked about death before. Parents should. There is no need to be afraid to scare the child. This may help him in the future.
How to deal with it
How do you move on after losing a loved one? The main thing is to remember your missus. Carry it in your heart. The longer you remember her, the longer she will stay with you. Don't be afraid to look stupid - talk to her, ask questions, ask for help. If you need it, then do it and do not look back at others who may not understand this.
What to do if you have children together? In this difficult moment, you need to be there for them, support them and help them cope with the loss. You must be supportive of each other. After all, you lost your wife, and they lost their mother. And it will be much easier to deal with this when you are around. Feeling supported and cared for helps a lot in such situations.
Everyone finds their own way to deal with loss. Some people head to work. Some resort to the help of specialists. Others change their lives drastically. There are no universal ways.
Perhaps your wife has unfinished business. You can take it upon yourself and bring it to the end. Thus, you will honor her memory and be able to be closer to her, doing her favorite thing.
Most importantly, don't end your life. Do not withdraw into yourself, do not obsess and do not disappear into the depths of your grief. The person is strong and can cope with any difficulty in life.
Yes, the loss of loved ones is the most terrible and terrible thing that can happen. It is difficult to deal with this, it is impossible to predict this. But thanks to your strength, moving forward, loved ones continue to exist next to you.
Maybe you will find helpful tips in Max Liss' book Get over the life crisis. Divorce, job loss, death of loved ones… There is a way out!»
