A Friend Stopped By | 03/17/2009 11:00 pm

My Death Wish, by Michele Neff Hernandez

By Michele Neff Hernandez

Editor’s Note: Michele Neff Hernandez is the executive director and founding president of the Soaring Spirits Loss Foundation. SSLF is a nonprofit organization dedicated to supporting and inspiring people who are grieving the loss of someone they love. Soaring Spirits is hosting the first ever National Conference on Widowhood at the Marriott Hotel and Marina in San Diego, CA, from July 17-19, 2009. For information about the programs SSLF offers, please visit SSLF’s website. You can reach Michele at micheleh@sslf.org.

It is an odd and frightening sensation to wish you were dead.

After my husband died, I fervently wished I could die, too. The first time I read that grieving people sometimes fantasize about death, I was relieved. My entire life, I had appreciated the gift of life; to suddenly and frequently wish it away was a disconcerting and lonely experience. When my husband, Phil, was hit by a car, the initial shock provided a buffer to the complicated emotions that would gather to haunt me in the days and months to come.

As the buffer of shock wore off, I was struck daily by the realization that Phil wasn’t coming home. It felt like "Groundhog Day" – every day I woke up with the expectation that the day would somehow go differently, and I would discover that Phil wasn’t really gone. Day by day, the reality of his death ate away at my desire to live.

There is a difference between wishing to be dead and being suicidal. My death wish did not come from a desire to stop living. It didn’t even come from a desire to stop hurting – though the pain was so intense at times, I hoped it would kill me. My death wish came from a desire to be with Phil again. His physical absence was like a phantom pain in a limb that was no longer attached. My death wish became a part of my daydreams. Jogging up a street, I would mentally challenge cars to run me over.

On a plane, I would imagine a fiery crash that I didn’t survive. Hiking in the mountains, I looked for wild animals that might want to make a meal of me. Driving alone in the car, I visualized my car flying over any ledge I passed. Every brush with imagined death was followed by the disappointing result of still being alive: continuing to jog down the street, landing as expected at my destination, a safe return from hiking adventures and no crash over the nearest ledge. The longing I felt to be with him was a constant ache; the only cure I could imagine was joining him wherever he was.

As time marched on, the call to live gradually grew stronger. In the early part of my grieving, I desperately held on to two reasons to live: My kids needed me, and our family and friends would be so sad if I was gone, too. All my reasons for wanting to live were about someone else; if it were up to me … beam me up, Lord! There was not one personal reason that I could think of to continue living – but healing has a way of sneaking up on you. Eventually I recognized that my husband lived his life fully, every moment. He had an awareness of the value of life that influenced his daily choices. Reflecting on how he lived his life reminded me of the gift that life is, and he became a role model for me.

27 Reader Comments (so far…) Sign In or Register to comment

Michele and for all that posted here, I just received this amazing email today and it is perfect for this site….I want to share it with all of you:

http://www.greatdanepromilitary.com/Life/index.htm

By Libra Lady on 03/18/2009 10:00 pm

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Michelle: This is a beautiful testimony to your husband, the life you shared, and your strength. As a widow of five years, I understand where you have been and where you will go on this grief journey. Best of luck. Elaine Williams

By Elaine Williams on 03/19/2009 12:43 pm

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Michele, I totally understand what you went through. When I was 21 my very best friend in life, known from early childhood, died after open heart surgrey. It was supposed to be a routine surgery to replace a heart valve. She was 3 months shy of being 21. In the year following her death I would walk to my college classes and wish to be just run over by a truck or bus. Anything to just not be alive. But I knew I couldn’t kill myself because my parents would never have understood. If she had suddenly not been dead, but back, it would not have mattered why, I’d have just been so happy to have my friend back. I had thought we were going to graduate, get jobs close by, each marry, and one day be old grey-haired ladies in rocking chairs on a porch. Every day for a year I’d sit by her grave for hours, just to know where she was. Finally after a year, the blackest, darkest year of my life, grief lessened and I started to move on in my life. Now, I look back and see where I am in my life now, would never have happened if she had lived, as strange as that might be to say. I have a wonderful husband now, for instance, that I’d likely have never met. Life does go on, God does watch over you, and sometimes what is the hardest time in your life becomes the time you grow the strongest.

By Veronica Lane on 03/19/2009 5:32 pm

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And you, Michele, are a role model and inspiration for all of us. Thanks for sharing your wisdom and insight in such a meaningful way and thanks to the editors for bringing us your story. I wish you every success with your foundation and your cultivation of hope. I believe!

By JoAnn Siros on 03/19/2009 11:35 pm

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Michele, thank you for sharing this inspirational story. It is so helpful, and hopeful, for all of us to realize that we can survive even the most terrible of losses. I’m putting a link to this on my therapy blog as well.

By Deborah Tucker on 03/20/2009 5:26 pm

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It’s always hard for me to join discussions like this because I lost my beloved husband almost 7 years ago—he was only 53. I cannot believe I am almost 60 now. 25 years of marriage and now almost 10 years since he became ill and die. Where has the time gone.

I have succeeded in ways I never thought I could. I took control of my physical being by dropping 60lbs. I started biking, running and going to the gym. My diet is pristine. Quit smoking 3 yrs ago and never never miss it. I have the same full time job for almost 14 years now and probably will not lose it to the economy. These are the fortunate things in my life

Yet, no matter how hard I try to feel good about myself, I cannot. I work and come home and workout. Here and there I see friends who tell me how much I have changed and grown and how proud of me they are.

Why can’t I see it? I read and hear about people who turn tragedy around. I feel like am standing still in concrete and it is so embarrassing to talk about because it’s been almost 7 years.

I am probably going to be sorry I opened up here. But I know I need to take steps beyond what I have already accomplished. I just don’t know anymore

By marion harris on 03/21/2009 7:30 pm

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Marion, please don’t be sorry to have opened up. Sometimes in life we do the steps to improve and get stuck. I’ve been stuck many times after doing all the things I was to do but feeling like I was trapped in my life 10 years ago. The time was marching on, I was going through the motions but nothing was changing. Have you tried bodywork? I’m not talking workouts, but a type of therapy where you let your body help guide you through changes? Our minds are pretty good at tricking us that we aren’t ready to move on, but our bodies can’t lie. Some people do cranial/sacral work, I liked Integrated Awareness (http://www.inawareness.com/) They have a list of classes, instructors around the country - just a thought that might be of interest.

Best of luck to you and I hope you stay here at wOw!

By Sylvia M on 03/22/2009 9:38 am

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Hi Marion,

Thank you for sharing your story. One thing I have learned about grief is that healing takes however long it takes. The ability to taste life again is not directly associated with how well we do in the aftermath of loss…we can take control of every area of our lives, but we can’t force healing. That said, it sounds like you may find there are totally unexpected ways that you have grown as a person since the loss of your husband. I guess it took me some time to be able to be proud of myself for my personal growth, because the fact that my progress was directly related to the death of someone I loved so much was painful and confusing. For me, I settled on the idea that I couldn’t change the fact that Phil died, but I could make the most of the life I have left even when the thing I was most proud of on any given day might be my ability to get out of bed.

Don’t give up on the idea that eventually you will be able to do more than work on autopilot. I would guess that you expected to be in a different emotional space seven years after your loss, but the place you find yourself now has lessons, and even gifts, to offer you. Sometimes it takes longer than we would like to be able to accept those gifts and move to a new place. There are many, many other widows who have been, and still are, just where you find yourself. Know that as a group we can hold the candle of hope for each other, and know that you are definitely not alone.

By Michele Neff Hernandez on 03/22/2009 9:42 am

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This is such a great thing you are doing.

By Andrea Neff on 03/23/2009 7:00 pm

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Your words could have been from my own pen, my own heart. I too had a "death wish", not so much that I hated my life but an intense longing to be with Paul. As I lay down each night, I would pray that I would not wake up here, but with him. After 36 years with my sweetheart, I just couldn’t imagine life without him. But in these 14 months since his death, God has been a constant companion and shown me I can live, and live well. I am finding purpose, and even feel the beginnings of joy returning to my soul. I know I will always carry the scars of his loss,But I too, (as you so eloquently wrote) am proud of the woman that is emerging from the ashes. May God Bless You on your journey.

By Chariss Cyr on 11/20/2009 1:59 pm