Dear Jordan

After Jordan’s death all I wanted was a griever’s manual so I could understand what to expect in the minutes, hours, days, weeks, and months to come. I love a detailed plan, second only, to a checklist. Have mercy. Is there anything more satisfying? To my dismay, not even Amazon carries an all-inclusive book with specifics (up to my standards) on rules, timelines, and emotions for grieving my sweet husband. So where did I turn? Back to basics of course. Elizabeth Kübler-Ross’s model of the five stages of grief. Information that anyone who took a few psychology classes in college could commit to memory. These stages include: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. I’ve come to understand the original intent was developed for patients with terminal illness who were processing their own death and later adapted to encompass grieving friends and family. While I find it an important blueprint for normalizing the range of emotions that grief encapsulates, I also consider it a tad outdated. I would like to suggest a few amendments based on my own grief experiences. Some comical, some not. Without further ado:

1. Anxiety – Complete and total loss of safety and security. Endless worry about the future. What bad thing will happen next? Who that I love will leave/die next? What will trigger my grief? How will said triggers impact my daily functioning now and in the future? Will it always be this way?

2. Bee brain – Per my Google search, a bee’s memory span is roughly 2.5 seconds. Much shorter than your average goldfish with a memory up to 5 months. The more you know. Your mind is always somewhere different than your body. If there’s no reminder and it didn’t make it into my planner it doesn’t exist. Birthdays or important dates of loved ones do not easily register. Want to read one of the grief books that were so kindly gifted to you in your time of need? Think again. I finished my first book at 1.5 years post loss.

3. Identity Crisis – Who am I now? With my entire future uncertain what do I do next? Dye my hair or maybe a tattoo? Actually, now seems like a good time evaluate if I’m on the right career path. Maybe something less extreme. Should I save the remaining wax from my Bath and Body Works candles? Yes, this sounds like an appropriate use of my time! I will melt the wax and make my own candles. *Adds small glass jars and wicks to Amazon cart* Those items never made it out of the boxes they arrived in.

4. Retail Therapy – Throw pillows. A few for seasonal purposes. A couple more because I knew I would sell the house at some point. Pillows could make or break the sale. I’m sure of it! Oh and I might as well re-do our bedroom. This room no longer brings me peace anyway. Of course I can carry the brand new bedframe in the house by myself. Kitchen stools I’ve been eyeing. CHECK! Money can’t buy you happiness but it can help match your desired aesthetic. And, within reason, I can get on board with that.

5. Car Crying/Raging – Music of any variety that evokes an emotional response when life without your person becomes too much. Often without warning. Though I’m not hardcore enough to listen to heavy metal. I highly recommend checking out Christina Applegate’s character’s version of “meditation” in Dead to Me on Netflix for a good laugh.

6. Guilt – Creating new routines. Replaying final moments. What could I have done differently? Did he know what he meant to me? To everyone? If roles were reversed would Jordan be handling this better? Why can’t I remember our inside jokes? How can I ensure your legacy lives on? The list goes on and on and on.

7. Building community – Idolizing Nora McInerny (my favorite widow) for writing stellar books, hosting a podcast, and giving Ted Talks that speak directly to my soul. Finding an entire widow community on Instagram who just get it. For attending a widows support group *once* and subsequently failing to return because the reality wasn’t one I wanted to be a part of. But vowing to try again, someday.

8. Dark humor – The desire to deflect from your pain with life’s greatest coping mechanism. Example: An individual sweetly telling me they stopped to see Jordan at the cemetery. Me responding, “That’s so great. I hope our headstone stood out. I tried to choose something with a modern-feel because we are the youngsters of the place.” Cringe. Also me creating this list because it brought me some form of joy today. Now realizing it may not be received that way because grieving isn’t supposed to be funny.

I hope this can serve as a reminder there is no correct way to grieve. My unconventional methods of grief may not align with the pre-determined “stages” from the 1960s but that doesn’t mean it’s not valid or necessary. Whether or not it is problematic is for a licensed professional to decide. Referrals welcome! Something I can guarantee is the grieving process will not be linear and may change multiple times within a day’s time. I am waiting on pins and needles to see what the next phase of Aaberg’s model of never-ending grief stages brings for me. Bird watching seems to be the obvious choice!