I win.

People often say that there is a reason for everything. Many times over the years I’ve wondered the reason for having to lose my father when I was so young. Perhaps the reason I had to lose him was to prepare me for this loss. To guide me through this grief. To allow me to see hope and fulfillment in my future so I may continue to go on living now. If losing Andie had been my first experience with tragic loss I would not be coping and functioning very well, and that would prevent me from being a good parent. Because I’ve walked this walk before, I have some coping skills to draw on and I am able to continue functioning for my girls.

Losing Dad was actually a gift in a way, which even as I type it sounds INSANE. But living through that, and working through that has helped me cope with this loss of Andie. Because I have experienced sudden, tragic death before, and come out on the other side still alive and able to find joy, it gives me hope for my future now. I know that I will not only survive the loss of Andie, but also thrive and find fulfillment again. Just in a different way than I expected.

I’m different in that regard from other widows who have not experienced loss prior to losing their husbands. Their outlooks are so bleak and they have a hard time believing that it will ever get better. I completely understand where they are coming from because that is how I felt after losing my father. But I don’t feel this way about losing Andie because losing my father has taught me many lessons. I have learned how to deal with grief, how to process it, how to accept that while the pain seems unbearable now there is truly a light at the end of the tunnel. I didn’t deal well with my father’s death; initially I tried to deny it, detach from it, compartmentalize it. It wasn’t until 5 years after he died that I finally started to deal with it and got some really good therapy.

I won’t make all the same mistakes this go round as I did with my first bout of grief. I still struggle with the tendency to compartmentalize and detach, but I’m at least aware of these tendencies and can work to combat them. I still want to move through it very quickly and not give the process the time it deserves- so I constantly have to remind myself to slow down and let it be.

But I’m wiser to the process and know what to expect this time. I know that some days will be good and others will be awful. I know that just when I think I’m getting my feet on the ground, grief will throw me a curve ball and knock me back down. The difference is that now I know that I can get up.

I can still win the game.

Grief can’t defeat me.