Eating is Different Now

The days, maybe even weeks, right after G died, I could barely eat. I felt so nauseous. So incredibly sick to my stomach. Grief felt so physical. The burning in my chest, the pit in my stomach, the racing heart beats, the foggy mind. How can you eat when the one you love is gone? How can you eat when you watched your beloved die? Food turned my stomach.

Then maybe after about a month, I started using food to cope. Snacking late at night. Chocolates in the privacy of my room. Anything to help me stay awake or the maybe feel the tiniest bit of pleasure. A way to fill this new huge void that felt so physical - almost like a hunger - and wasn't going away.

Something changed in April. Eating got hard again. Or maybe hard isn't the right word. Going through all of our birthdays made me lose my appetite. Food doesn't sound good. Planning dinner? How can I plan dinner when I can barely remember what we like to eat. Meals would arrive and I would eat them and I would be so hungry that they would be good. But thinking of something I wanted to eat ahead of time? Impossible.

Eating reminds me of G. We did a lot of eating together. It sounds weird but it was a big part of our lives. I never cooked dinner when G was out of town or working late - it was just leftovers or something quick for me and P. I cooked meals because of G. I cooked meals thinking of what he would like and what would be okay for him to eat (for his health issues). I adapted my preferences to his. I took on his habits.

When we were dating, we picnicked a lot. Cooked special meals at his off-campus house. We made Christmas cookies every year (the craziest ones you can imagine came from that man's dark sense of humor). We couldn't do a lot of activities for dates as their years went on so our dates were mostly meals. Going to Wegmans to play our favorite board game and eat our favorite subs. Sneaking our favorite snacks into the movie theaters. Getting Paul in bed so we could do Chinese takeout or Buffalo Wild Wings and watch a movie on the weekend. On and on it goes.

So many foods remind me of him. Deviled eggs. Stir fry. Bologna. Ice cream. Pomegranates. Honey crisp apples. Pretzels - especially the sour dough kind. Queso. Lemon juice. Salt and Vinegar chips. Chinese takeout. Wings. Cheesecake. Gummy candies of all kinds.

And then there is our bedtime routine. After P was in bed we'd have a snack and watch a show. Then we'd usually have ANOTHER snack and hang out in the kitchen and chat a bit before going up to bed. Now I go upstairs when P does. I don't want to be downstairs. I haven't watched any of "our shows" since G died and probably never will again. How lonely it would be to sit down there by myself - no one to talk to or watch a show with or have a snack with.

Some of our biggest arguments were about food too. And goodness knows that we could not grocery shop together. Before we were parents we loved to. We often would take walks at night in the dark to our local grocery store and shop when no one else was in the store. We loved that. But then a baby and a baby schedule and health-related stresses came and suddenly grocery shopping brought out the absolute worst in our marriage.

But G loved grocery stores. And the one store we never fought in was Trader Joe's because we went there for fun - not for practical stuff. It was a treat so it was fun (and mercifully small so it didn't take too long!).

So with less eating has come weight loss. I see my face looking gaunt in the mirror. I think I may be at a lower weight than when we got married (my lowest as an adult). And I look at myself and I think that I look like I'm grieving. And a part of me wants that. Its like I need an external way to manifest the pain. There is no mourning clothes these days. I still wear my wedding rings. I am making it through and I think a lot of people assume I'm doing fine - well even. Maybe in some ways I am. But the fact that those who know me can see that I've lost weight I think is one way that I want to kind of force them to see that I am in pain. My life is different. I have suffered a tremendous loss. It is hard to eat.

Gosh - none of this is probably health. But its real. It hurts to eat over eat because it doesn't fill the void. It hurts to under eat because it doesn't fill the void. And that's what I have - instead of a husband, I have a void.

I wish we had mourning clothes still in our culture. A year in black seems right - like it would warn people to tread lightly - I am grieving. Be kind. Be understanding. Help me. Give me space. Don't try to give me platitudes. And for goodness sake don't talk about remarriage. My grief is fresh. Be tender.