Comfort regained

Before I was widowed, I lived and was actively involved in my life. I am trying to do that now. I do not want to fill myself with things to try and fill up the emptiness, but that still happens unconsciously. Comfort is lacking. Comfort has to be provided in other ways.

I find myself stuffing food. I am reading and re-reading romance novels. I feel empty. Then, suddenly, a realization hits: I am missing comfort. My husband's love was comfort and now it is gone. The longing for it is natural and understandable. However, it's how I fill that emptiness that's the thing.

I am blessed that I can now start to remember things with less trauma, and reflect on happy times. Perhaps that is an indicator of growth and progress? I don't know, but I do know that life without him does not have the same colour it did.

What brings comfort? What can minister to me when my heart feels more broken than anything else? This grief is beyond description at times. The trauma of a suicide death leaves such a burden. Not only is comfort gone, so is trust, hope for the future, and perception of the recent past.

Not the same as before, yet still there, comfort comes in different ways. That isn't to say that the need for comfort, the demand of my heart and body aren't valid or should be stifled. Don't get me wrong here! There is never any point in stuffing things, yet there has to be a healthier way to deal with the emotion. Somehow, we have to rebuild our trust. Without it, life is harsh and has a crust on it.

This morning, driving to work, I was praying that the Holy Spirit would fill the empty holes, comfort my soul. At night, lying in my bed, I think of the past and my husband and the space beside me that used to be him. It is still hard to imagine that he is gone. I still don't really take it all in.

In the midst of this reality, there needs to be some comfort. Here are some ideas. I've found that sleep isn't always the solution (although in depression that's about the only thing I have energy for). I guess it can bring oblivion to the struggle, but there is no release in that.

Silence - Henri Nouwen is a huge proponent of this in our noisy culture full of sound-bites and news feeds that tell us nothing we actually want to know. I'm not too good at it.

Rest - not necessarily sleep: we could find rest by taking a mental break or sitting in a beautiful place. Rest is only rest if it restores and refreshes. Rest cannot be rest if it allows the mind to go at high speed, and revives anxiety.

Warmth - For Christmas, my friend filled up a stocking for me. It mushroomed into far more than a stocking - there were several parcels under the tree from her. It was a tremendous blessing to me and meant far more than I expected. One of the gifts was a soft, fluffy blanket. And, even though I own other blankets, it has been on my bed all winter. I snuggle under it, have naps under it and wrap myself in it right up to my nose on a really cold night.

A hot bath - pour in some epsom salts and let them dissolve. Add a few drops of a citrus essential oil (they uplift and lighten the mood). Soak for at least 10 minutes. Don't even think about how dirty the bathroom looks from that angle!

Create - something. Keep it simple. Don't allow the potential for failure to steal your comfort.

Cuddle - I miss my husband and I cuddling in bed. For a few months soon after he died, I slept with a large stuffed animal which I held all night long. It really helped, and eventually I was able to let it go.

More warmth - Get or make one of those buckwheat packs. I made a simple tube, sewed the one side and one end, filled it with flax seed (rice would also work) and sewed up the other end. It's simple and I've had it for years. In hot weather, I keep it in the freezer, but it has been wonderful just warmed in the microwave for 2 minutes. If you want to keep it clean, make a cover for it and wash that occasionally.

Still more warmth - Another friend gave me a beautiful gift for my birthday: a hand-knitted afghan made from New Zealand wool (my husband was from NZ). I wish he had been able to see it. What a beautiful gift. It meant so much.

Water - the sound of lapping waves on the shore is restful. If you live near any body of water, no matter how small, go and sit beside it when the sun is out. Take your journal and write. Or take your camera and photograph whatever you see that is beautiful.

Beauty - surround yourself with something beautiful. I find flowers beautiful, perhaps for you it's the shiny chrome on a vintage car or the rustling leaves in the wind. Go there. Be there. Let it soak into you.

Animals - my cat purring is tremendously comforting.

Stories - when I get sick I sometimes pull out my Anne of Green Gables books. I find them comforting because they heark to a happy time and to my childhood.

Any more suggestions out there?

Comfort, comfort my people says the Lord (Is 40:1)