The first morning after my husband died I woke up with the feeling of a weight on my chest. I got up to shower like I was going to work. My children had come home to be with me, but none of them were awake. After dressing, I wanted to do something normal, so I went to the small grocery store near my house. I hadn't been to the grocery store in a few months due to not being able to leave my ill husband alone.
I walked up and down a few aisles just looking at everything. I didn't need to buy anything, but I wanted to feel a connection to my usual life before Mark was sick. I chose a box of tea bags to purchase. What I didn't anticipate was finding something I knew Mark would like and having the impulse to buy it before I remembered that he wasn't waiting for me at home. My legs felt weak at the realization I wouldn't be able to bring it to him. I wasn't sure I could continue to stand without help.
I left the store and drove home as quickly as I could. I'm grateful my children were up by the time I got home. They chided me for going out by myself. They were right, of course. It wasn't a good idea, but I couldn't explain to them why I wanted to do it.
The feeling of the weight on my chest stayed with me for months. Occasionally, even now I feel it. I've learned that grief is heavy and it can be overwhelming to carry. Often. I felt as if I was walking in mud up to my knees or moving through life with rocks tied to my body. I seemed to move in slow motion and time stopped moving at normal speed. Every day seemed to last what should have been two or three days long.
It took about six months for those sensations to pass. By then we were headed into a lockdown due to Covid which is a story for another day. If you have experienced grief, maybe you will find something in my story relatable.