What is loneliness? As me, I know all too well what it’s like to feel your insides being taken out, leaving you feeling utterly hollow and powerless. I understand that the pain in your stomach and heart can feel so intense that you truly believe you may die from it. Today marks the fourth birthday of my late husband, and yet it still feels as though the death is fresh and raw in my heart. The sadness reflected in my son’s eyes does not make this unbearable situation any easier to bear. People have a lot of judgment to pass on how I handle this grief or how I am coping—or often not coping—at all. But honestly, I was never given a lesson or manual on how to navigate the overwhelming loss of my family. That’s exactly it! The profound absence of having a family! That is truly, deeply the meaning of loneliness for me.
I carry so much pressure that I rarely discuss, yet I long for the world to grasp what I’m going through. It’s not the same anymore where a man works and a woman tends to the family. It feels as if all of society’s burdens have been placed squarely on my shoulders. If I make even one misstep, it falls entirely on me—there’s no one else to hold accountable but myself.
“Think of your son!” That’s what everyone tells me, but does anyone ever stop to consider how I feel? How it weighs on me to bear the grief of others? I remember that day as if it were just an hour ago. The guilt is overwhelming; he was my husband and cherished by my family, and now they’ve lost him because I brought him into their lives. Sometimes, I can’t shake the feeling that they resent me for it. These thoughts are terrifying and lead me into the darkest corners of my mind. All I wish for is someone to sit with me and say they understand—but how could they? They truly don’t. I need to be heard and felt, not judged or reprimanded for how I cope. If only once, they could grasp the bitterness inside me, the anger that resides there—the reality that I’ll never have what I’ve always wanted: my own family.
