My Secrets of Grief I Didn’t Tell Anyone

Grief is the nastiest thing I have experienced in my life. I have had heartache, in so many different forms from a high school break up to the loss of my best friend and grandpa. I struggled growing up, wanting the acceptance of my dad, and even experienced the heartache of betrayal, as so many of us have. Grief though? Grief takes the cake–the combination of losing my best friend, my husband, the father of my son, the memories and chances I didn’t get to watch him with our son, and the lost years I envisioned as I gave him my vows.


My sweet grandpa and I, five months before he passed. He really was my best friend.

Grief is tricky though–the smile on my face, the joy that I experience, the amazing blessings and opportunities that God continues to shower down on me, almost mask the side-effects of grief to those on the outside. The outside, is never the true model of the inside and what my heart constantly battles on a daily basis. In all honesty, we live in a society that doesn’t discuss grief, we hide it, and we do not talk about it. The reality is though, we all live in grief: in some form or fashion, and the more we talk about it, the less we allow grief to isolate us.

These are my secrets of grief; some I am not proud of, but all of them helped me get where I am today, almost three years after I kissed my husband good-bye. Grief secrets shared:

  • When you tell me that I am strong, I cringe inside, unworthy of the compliment you just gave. I keep it a secret how many times I crawl into a ball in our bedroom closet floor to cry my eyes out in the middle of the night. Yes, even still, almost three years later. I hate doing life without him, and I hate even more not seeing him with our son as he continues to grow.

Porter and his Daddy on his 1st Birthday-August 21, 2014.

  • I don’t sleep–yes, even still. Most nights my mind is racing so fast, I can’t stay focused on one thing long enough to finish the task. I know he isn’t here, but I want to prove I can do it all and continue to make him proud. Besides, the nightmares that ravage my soul in the middle of the night, are not worth me taking a chance of experiencing one more night.
  • Those nightmares? They are all the same–someone is always trying to take something of Joe’s. And in those terrors, I beg them to not take another piece of him away from me. I cling to the pictures, the home videos, the “stuff” that reminds me of him. After all, that is all I have of him left, and I don’t want any of it to leave.
  • As much as I sometimes want someone to go do things with,  I am not ready to date, enter a relationship, or give my heart away. I’m still IN LOVE with my husband, and I cannot give that up. My grief belongs to me–no one else, I can’t give you an explanation why,  a timeline of when this might change; I just hurt, miss being his wife, and just miss him.
me and Joe baby-FAVE

Young and Full of Innocence–the early days, One of my favorite pictures at Silver Dollar City, Branson, MO.

  • Many days I do feel like I fail him as the mother of his son. All too often, we are eating a quick-made meal, but more times than not, we are eating out. Our lives stay busy, I don’t play in the floor enough, we aren’t even home enough to do that. I know I am doing the best I can, but the constant self-doubt and guilt eat me alive most days. I may not show it, but I beg God every day to forgive me for losing my patience, being too tired to read bedtime stories, or wanting to give up. “Mom-guilt-grief” is my biggest demon I battle every second of every day. Hopefully, God gives Porter all the right ways to shine, and I don’t screw up too badly.

His happiness, innocence, blue eyes, smile, and tender heart are his Dad’s. I blessed every day of the constant reminder of his Daddy.

  • Grief drives me to work. When I feel like I have no control over anything going on in my life (every day), I work. I work on my writing, I work at work, I bring work home, I take on one more thing that requires me to throw myself into it, 100%. I get my self-worth from working, and often when I work more, it’s because I am hurting more.
  • I am happy for you–all of you: my friends, from childhood friends to all of my new friends I have acquired through the colon cancer world. When I see your family photos, your family vacations, new additions the family, building your lives to be better, my heart is about to explode watching you shine, watching you be good moms and dads, reaching your potential and dreams. Deep down though, it hurts, it stings. That is the life stage I should be in, too. Christmas card photos, that has four of us, not two of us. Family vacations with Daddy carrying the kids on their shoulders, that should be Joe and Porter. Those date nights? I’d give anything for one more. My joy for you is abundant, countless; it’s just that, I wish I had that too, today.

Christmas 2016

Grief is a mental battle war zone every day. I wonder what the future holds, what it doesn’t, what my next step is, and is it right or wrong? Will my next choice help Porter, or hinder him? Am I screwing him up along the way? I pray to God every day the answer is no. I wonder if I could have done something more, anything to help find an answer and Joe would still be here with us….I know the answer to this though: NO. I know this, I did everything possible to save him. I will continue to fight for a cure.


On the steps of the Nation’s Capital–Washington, D.C. March 2016

I hope that as I share my secrets in grief, we all will. There is someone we can connect with, who is walking a similar road, who can understand our grief. Grief journeys will never be exactly the same, but that is no reason to keep it a secret.

xoxo-A Grieving Mom and Wife


1 Comment

  1. Smith, you are an amazing mom and human being. I’m proud to know you, work with you and here to support you. I stink at the right words to say but I’m with you every step of the way. Thanks for posting this for the countless others that are probably feeling the same way. I’m not sure that serving others isn’t the greatest cure of all. I enjoyed the read. Keep blogging.


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