Saying Goodbye to my Old Self

A post about How deep loss changes you

I read a novel recently that left me sobbing in the middle of the night.

This was not an “aww what a sweet story, brought tears to my eyes” sort of cry. This was a harrowing sob where in the darkness of our bedroom, the only light emanating from the Kindle in my hand, I muffled shuddered exhales and sharp inhales, trying not to wake my husband as I soaked my pillow with tears.

The words I read unearthed a deep agony I had not yet been able to define. In the character’s self-revelation, I found my own. And what I realized, cracked my already broken heart.

The plot of the novel is: “a woman unexpectedly forced to choose between the husband she has long thought dead and the fiancé who has finally brought her back to life.”

The book journeys through both love stories. As the reader, we fall in love with the main character’s high school sweetheart and follow along as they get married and build a life together. And then we watch her crumble as she learns of her husband’s tragic death in a helicopter crash and is dragged through the anguish of unexpected loss and acute grief.

The story continues as we witness the young woman move back to her childhood home, and from the ground up figure out who she is after the life she expected was ripped away from her. There we meet her new fiancé, and we fall in love with him too.  

The book quickly becomes a page turner as the husband reappears and we watch the main character wrestle with an impossible decision – which man will she choose?

Before and After

At first, you might find it odd that I connected so deeply with this story. No, I’m not debating between two loves in my life. Chris, you’re my one and only. ;) For me, this novel was much more than a love story – it was a dramatic depiction of how deep loss changes you.

There’s a quote early in the book that reads -  “I think that perhaps everyone has a moment that splits their life in two. When you look back on your own timeline, there’s a sharp spike somewhere along the way, some event that changed you, changed your life, more than others. A moment that creates a ‘before’ and an ‘after.’”

I resonate deeply with the validity of this statement.
My life is now divided into two chunks. Before my dad died, and after.

There have been other markers of before and after in my life. Before I got married, and after. Before my niece or nephew was born, and after. And the list could go on. Each milestone impacted my life in a significant way. But all of them were a mere ripple in comparison to the tsunami of change my dad’s death induced in my life.

Saying Goodbye

The night I sobbed in bed, I found myself at the climax of the story (spoiler alert) – the moment the main character realizes she wants to spend the rest of her life with her fiancé and says goodbye to her husband.

She doesn’t want to say goodbye to him. She still loves him! But she has to because the person she was before, died when she thought he did. She is different now in so many tangible and intangible ways. And she cannot rid herself of her new self even if she tried. So she must say goodbye – to her old life and her old love, so that she can go forward.

Partway through the book, I predicted the ending. I told Chris, “I have a gut feeling she’s going to choose her fiancé because she’s going to realize she can’t go back to who she was before.”

I predicted it because I get it.
I am not the same Mindy who existed before my dad died.
And I will never be that Mindy again.

If you’re thinking, “hold up, come on, you’re still the same you…” I’d politely agree to disagree. Am I the same person at my core? Yes, of course. But when someone significant in your life dies, it affects so much more than the obvious lack of their presence in your life. Loss affects your faith, your identity, your relationships with others, your confidence in yourself, your perspective on life, your priorities, your ability to think clearly (hello grief brain). It changes everything.

Add to the loss of my dad the fact that we moved in the same year, that I’ve had a hard time writing due to grief brain and all the other shifts, and then this summer my cat died, and it becomes abundantly clear that my life is vastly different than it was before May 13th, 2022. (And these examples just scratch the surface of other losses/shifts I’ve experienced in this last year).

So no. I am not the same Mindy who existed before my dad died. And that is uncomfortable.

I knew “old” Mindy really well. I knew what made her tick. I knew what made her feel safe, what coping mechanisms eased her anxiety, what gave her joy. A lot of those things have changed cause, well, everything changed. New Mindy is a bit of a mystery.  Sometimes I don’t even recognize myself. Other times I feel like a socially awkward turtle. And woven in between are a few blissful moments where I’m like “ahhh, there you are!”

I cried so stinking hard that night while I was reading because during the painful goodbye between the main character and her husband, I realized I too must say goodbye.

I’ve been trying to operate as the me I was before loss. But that me no longer exists. Trying to live as if I’m “old” Mindy is like trying to shove a round peg into a square hole. Just as the main character discovered, if I want to walk fully toward my future and learn to embrace the new me formed by loss, I need to say a love-filled goodbye to who I was before.

Finding Hope

I’m currently reading a book called Beyond the Darkness: A Gentle Guide for Living with Grief and Thriving after Loss by Clarissa Moll. I read part of it shortly after my dad died, but it wasn’t until now that I can resonate with the words she wrote.

Towards the end of the book Moll talks about the importance of grief integration – which she defines as “slow acceptance of the changes in your life that come after the death of your person”. She talks about how this daily action helps press you forward to thriving after loss.  

Now that I’m a bit further along in this journey, not so heavily entrenched in the earth-shattering agony of acute grief, I find myself in this place of slowly accepting what has happened. I wish I didn’t have to – I wish dad didn’t unexpectedly die when he did (it guts me still). But that is not within my control. What I can control is what I do with my life beyond dad.

So, here’s what I’m doing.
I am working on accepting the change that has happened in my life.
I’m saying a loving goodbye to the me I used to be, so I can accept and embrace who I’ve become.
And I am asking God to renew me.

Clarissa Moll challenged and encouraged me with these words, “You’ll move toward flourishing because grief was never meant to break you but to remake you. … Grief, this expression of love when the object is gone, can become the catalyst for growth.” 

The novel I read brought me to tears, but it also gave me hope. Loss changed and transformed the main character. But it did not break her. In time, she accepted the changes that flowed from loss and she learned how to live and love again. And I know I will too.

We have a mighty God who makes beautiful things out of dust. We are an example of that – from the dust of the earth he made us, and friends, we are fearfully and wonderfully made. As much as I wish I was not living this bitter reality without my dad, I know that God will make beautiful things out of the dust here too.

If you’re wondering what the “new” Mindy looks and feels like – stay tuned. I’m in a messy transition phase. But I’m bound and determined to find my feet again, and somehow, by the grace of God, make my dad proud and thrive in this new life I find myself in.

*Thank you for reading this. If you think of me, will you pray for me? This journey is tough. I’m seeking out joy as much as I can (I always want to attest to the joy that coexists with sadness, thank you Jesus) – but the nitty gritty work of navigating life after loss is really hard. So I appreciate your love, support, and prayers as I continue on.

P.S. The novel that moved me was One True Loves by Taylor Jenkins Reid. I know I spoiled the ending for you, but I still think the book is worth a read. One thing I really appreciated about the book was the author’s storytelling contained a raw and real portrayal of what acute grief looks and feels like. Most books or movies give the pain of grief little airtime, rushing to focus on the character’s life beyond. But this author intentionally dove into the messy middle of grief and made it clear that the character’s development took place over years, not days/weeks like most stories falsely portray. I really appreciated that.