Time Is A Powerful Healer But It Leaves One Hell Of A Scar

Today is four years since I lost my husband, Jason, to suicide.

Four years, and yet, even as I say those words, I still have difficulty wrapping my head around what he did and the devastation that followed.

Anniversaries used to mean something very different for me than they do now. They used to mean a time of celebration, but most anniversaries now bring back the emotions and a reminder of all that was lost.

When my dad was a little boy, he had several uncles that were teenagers that he loved to hang out with. So one afternoon, they huddled inside of a truck topper that had been removed from a truck in the back yard of his grandmother’s house, that they had turned into a makeshift clubhouse.

They were engaged in the very ill-advised activity of playing with gasoline and matches.

Because of the small space, the vapors from the gasoline quickly filled the air, creating a hazardous situation.

A match was struck, the vapor ignited, and the boys scrambled to escape. The smallest of all the boys, my dad had trouble escaping and suffered third-degree burns on his leg before they pulled him from the flames.

He spent time in the hospital and suffered terribly as his leg slowly healed.

Seventy years later, he still bears the scars of that day. His leg, while fully functional, has a fragile, translucent layer of skin covering nearly the entire area below the knee that is very easily bruised and damaged. He used his leg to teach us the dangers of playing with fire…a mistake none of us ever made.

By all accounts, his leg is completely healed. But it will never be the same.

And so it goes for people who suffer trauma and loss…

…those who are wounded by loss will never be the same.

Time heals all wounds, they say, and technically, this may be correct, but those who are wounded by loss will never be the same.

As the wounds heal, they will be replaced by lifelong scars that may be easily damaged.

After Jason died, I counted days since his death, which turned into weeks, that turned into months, that have now turned into years.

I wished for time to pass. I longed for time to create space between myself and the loss that cut so deeply…I needed the passage of time to protect me from the pain.

I looked forward to a time when enough time had passed that people stopped looking at me with pity.

Enough time so that people I met wouldn’t know me from the time before.

I needed time to create space, time to allow for healing, time to create a new life that was unattached to my past life, time to move forward, time to forget.

While waiting for time to heal and protect me, I learned a lot.

I learned that time creates enough space to separate yourself from the emotion, but not the event itself

…time does allow you to heal but doesn’t prevent terrible scars that can be easily bruised and broken open.

And though time does allow you to heal but doesn’t prevent terrible scars that can be bruised and broken open, requiring more time to heal.

I learned that time does help you create a new life…but it is never detached from your past life…because your new life was born from the loss. You can no more live your new life without thinking about your past life than you can live without thinking about your parents and where and who you come from…the loss is an inseparable part of your identity, like it or not.

I also learned that time does allow you to move forward a few steps at a time, but it doesn’t stop you from getting sucked backward now and then.

But time never lets you forget; it just lets you smooth over the rough parts and sometimes find the silver lining hidden beneath the sadness and anger.

My time in grief therapy taught me that everyone grieves differently and on their own timeline. Some people heal quickly and form sturdy scars. Some heal slowly, forming tenuous scars that are easily bruised and damaged. Some people continually pick open the wound and refuse to allow it to heal, preferring to stay fresh in the grief from their loss…sometimes for years and years.

In a community of people who are dealing with terrible loss, you learn to respect each person’s grieving process and their right to grieve however they want, without judgment. Still, with empathy and understanding, time and healing come to each person uniquely as their DNA.

So when I speak of grief and time and healing, I can only speak from my own grief journey. Some will find similarities they can relate to…especially those who have suffered a similar loss. But others will listen to my story and my feelings about loss and grieving and will find very little they can relate to, and that’s ok. That means their grief journey has been very different than mine, and maybe their loss was very different than mine.

But the one thing that will always be the same for every person that grieves is that time will pass. It will march on like a hard master irrespective of our feelings or desires. In that passage of time, circumstances, emotions, coping mechanisms, and day to day lives will change…and somewhere within all of that…some form of textbook healing will eventually take place as those left behind continue to wake up each day and take breath, moving ever so slowly away from the last moment of shared time and space with their loved one.

For me, avoidance is one of my go-to coping mechanisms.

I avoid things that I know will cause me pain.

Recognizing this in myself doesn’t make it any easier when I have to face something I know will cause pain…like family reunions, birthdays, anniversaries, driving down certain roads, eating certain foods, or watching certain shows.

A lifetime of never eating another oreo because they were Jason’s favorite didn’t really make a lot of sense. I didn’t buy Oreos for a couple of years. But the kids asked for them, so I let them in the house but I still refused to touch them.

Then, one day, standing in the pantry faced with the package of Oreos, I decided to breach the grief barrier and eat an oreo. Eating that Oreo made me remember…remembering damaged the scar…Oreos are forever ruined. That’s how grief works.

Both my parents and Jason’s parents celebrated 50 years of marriage this year, which meant I had two big anniversary parties to attend…an anniversary I will never celebrate…bruise to the scar.

I burst into tears and was overcome by grief for the losses that continue to pile up.

As I was dancing with my dad, the already bruised scar was ripped open as I suddenly realized that neither of my daughters will ever have the opportunity to dance with their dad as grown women to celebrate any special occasion…so instead of enjoying dancing with my dad to celebrate 50 years of marriage to my mom…I burst into tears and was overcome by grief for the losses that continue to pile up.

That’s how grief works.

So I dutifully protect my thin and delicate scar by keeping it covered up and avoiding things that will damage it, just like my dad does with his burned leg. He never wears shorts; he always wears long socks and thick pants. Even then, sometimes accidents happen, and he bumps his burn scar and wounds it. It’s unavoidable, but he does his best to protect it at all times.

For now, I will protect my scar by continuing to avoid the more painful things. However, I understand that despite doing my best, accidents will happen, bumps along the way that damage it, and I will have to heal again.

Perhaps over time, my scar will thicken, and my healing will become more comfortable…or maybe I will always carry a delicate scar that needs careful protection. Only time will tell.

So next time you are with someone who has suffered a terrible loss, and you find yourself searching for something meaningful to say, and you are tempted to fall back on an old cliche, like “time heals all wounds,” keep in mind:

While you may be technically correct, that doesn’t mean they will ever be the same, and you don’t know the scars they will carry with them forever.

So find a better way to convey empathy and support that doesn’t cause more pain.

I have tried to think about things people have said that were my favorite, that really made me feel supported and loved, rather than pitied or ends up with me trying to comfort them, and there is only one.

“I can’t imagine how difficult that was for you to go through. I am always here for you anytime.”

That’s it. No cliches, no adages, no apology that leaves me feeling like I need to tell them it’s ok…because it’s not…just a recognition that it was a difficult loss that they hadn’t experienced and can’t possibly understand, and let me know I am not alone in the world.

Because yes, time is a powerful healer, and yes, I am stronger from having suffered a terrible loss, but no, not everything happens for a reason, and NO, it wasn’t his time to go.

And NO ONE who is in the midst of grief is in the proper headspace to receive any of that! It feels very insensitive to drop a shallow quip on a situation with so much depth of emotion!

If none of that makes sense to you, and you can’t understand how someone could be hurt by someone else’s words of condolence shared with the best of intentions, count yourself lucky. Because that means you have not suffered a loss that cut so deeply you aren’t sure if it will ever heal or the pain will ever end.

Then step back from your own thoughts and feelings about loss far enough to consider that perhaps you don’t know and understand because you have never experienced it for yourself. Say a little prayer of gratitude, and then issue some grace to those who have, recognizing that there is no way for you to truly understand their loss or the way they feel.

Grieving is a long and ugly process…but it is a process. One that cannot be avoided indefinitely, no matter how hard someone tries. Eventually, they will have to walk through the emotions and the pain if they ever want to get to a place of healing, however long it may take.

Find your fellow travelers walking their own grief journey, and share the path. It is good to have company along the way.

If you are walking this path currently, you are not alone. Find your fellow travelers walking their own grief journey, and share the path. It is good to have company along the way.

If you are not on a grief journey, but you know someone who is, allow them the time they need to heal, love them unconditionally, do not judge them for how they are coping or the path they are taking on their grief journey… love them, be there for them, and support them…because chances are, one day, you will be taking your own walk through the devastation and loss and be starting your own grief journey.

And those who have already walked that path will be the greatest support and the most loving friends to have cheering you on and supporting you along the way.

And you may find, as I have found, it is not time that heals, but rather it is the love of friends and family who carried you, cared for you, and loved you unconditionally during your darkest times, that leads to the healing and the peace you seek.