Navigating the death of a loved one: Each person’s grief is their own - opinion

Although my husband and I had joint bank accounts, up-to-date wills, signed all the relevant forms, and had a detailed record of our finances, today, after more than two months, the will was finally probated. In the interim, important credit cards were automatically canceled, the safety deposit box could not be accessed, and withdrawals were very limited. I urge you to have a conversation with your bank about what the “day after” could look like and to make a video and record exactly what needs to be done, should one of you die.

For the latter, the delayed ability to fully grieve, due to the ongoing and prolonged nature of the war, has resulted in a much more complicated grief. I often remind my clients that grief is cumulative; therefore, past events and even other concurrent losses will likely have an effect on today’s grieving.

It is important to acknowledge that each person’s grief is his or her own. As such, it does not help to compare one person’s loss to another’s. Each person needs to find his or her own way to move forward in the pain.

This will clearly be a year of firsts for me as I navigate many new situations, both big and small. Issues came up almost immediately after my husband’s death, and I had a choice to see situations as challenges to be worked through or obstacles put in my way to make my life more difficult. For the most part, I was able to see them as the former. We often have little choice over what package we are given in life, but we have tremendous choice over how we deal with it, and these decisions will greatly affect both our happiness and our ability to move forward.

After having been gifted 47 years of togetherness with my beloved life partner, many things, especially for the first time and on my own, were not at all easy. With some help from others and lots of luck, I tried to appreciate each win. Sometimes I even surprised myself.

I tell myself that this is my story “for now.” Ups and downs, day by day. This is my reality, and, in this moment, I am okay and I can live with that. I never know what may upset me and when, but that, too, is okay. “It is what it is” has become my mantra.

I continue to have many a conversation in my head with my husband as I tell my myself that I’m running the show on the ground while he has me covered from above. I believe that he was on loan to me and sometimes think that he was called back now to help repair our world in some way.

That said, I often find myself wanting to tell him something, share a story, or get his opinion, even though I almost always know what he would say and can hear him say it. I often wonder, too, whether he knows how many people continue to approach me and speak about him. If I can try to bestow the kindness, caring, listening, and respect that he, as a physician, showed toward others, then his memory will indeed be for a blessing.

Accepting that not everything is within my control helps enable me at times to be kinder to myself. Finding gratitude in so many situations that I have encountered in the past few months has been life-affirming and has kept me afloat. Family, friends, and others whom I never knew have been amazing.

Here are just a few examples:

During a middle-of-the-night siren alert, as per my routine I filled a small cup with hot water from our water machine and began to head to the mamad (protected space), only to hear the water continuing to run. Breathing a sigh of relief at fixing it temporarily, I rushed to the mamad and tried slamming the door – once, twice, four times. It would not close.

At 6:30 a.m., feeling somewhat desperate and unhappy, I found the phone number (a huge success in itself) for Yedidim, a volunteer organization known for rushing all over the country to solve car crises and, so I thought, also fix mamad doors. The lovely lady I spoke with responded, “No, we only did that during the war.” Not to be deterred, I replied “Umm, I believe that we are still at war.”

“Leave it with me,” she said, “and call me back if you haven’t heard anything within a half hour.”

Four minutes later, a man called to say he was on his way. Ten minutes later the two of us were in the mamad, examining the door. Unable to solve the problem, he consulted a door specialist, and an hour later my door was fixed.

It suddenly struck me as funny. Alone and usually erring on the side of caution, I not only let in three strangers to build my sukkah, but now I was standing in a “safe room” with a very tall and solidly built man named Gal who, with no hesitation, I had just invited into my home. And when Gal bent over, I realized he was “packing a piece.” Post-Oct. 7, I was somehow not worried but rather incredibly grateful.

No other country in the world could tell these stories. Ours is a country made up of incredible superheroes. How blessed we are to be able to live here.

We must never take this for granted. Rather, we must harness this caring and find in our hearts a way to be there for one another, regardless of our differences. All of us are needed, now more than ever, to strengthen our beloved country. We must be there for those who are alone or lonely, as well as those who are wounded or have lost loved ones. We must deal with a fractured society and troubled families that have sent their children and spouses and parents to battle a heinous enemy.

We cannot wait for those grieving to reach out. It may be too difficult for them to pick up the phone to call. We must patiently reach out to them repeatedly, so that they know we are there for them.

This is a reminder to stop right now and make the time to thank your loved ones – your partner, your children, and your friends for even the smallest acts of kindness that they do daily for you and for others.