All Alone - Grief

It was not quite six in the morning when the call came from the Sheriff's office: "Mrs. Buntin, we have some officers coming to your house.  Can you give us directions?"

That was the beginning.  My husband of 20 years was dead in a one-vehicle accident on the Mogollon Rim in Arizona. 

Thus I entered into a world of what seemed to be never-ending grief.  I knew I would feel sad, but I didn't know I would be so angry! On those rare occasions when I seemed to get my head above water, some great cosmic hand pushed me back under.  I was mad at anyone who still had their spouse.  I was angry at the elderly who were growing old together.  I was mad at Carmon for "slipping his skin" and leaving me with four children as a single mom. Mostly, I was angry with God.  Like C.S. Lewis, even my strong Christian testimony brought little comfort.  People said, "He's in a better place."  I answered that I knew he was, but wondered what I was supposed to do for the next 20 or 30 years?

One evening in the late fall, I had stayed late at work to hold a special education conference with the parents of one of my students.  When the papers were signed and they had left, I was alone with our school psychologist, Ken Grosscost.  He turned to me and asked, "How are you doing?" I had already learned that when people asked that, they wanted me to say, "I'm fine.  Thanks for asking." If I tried to tell them what was really happening, they'd back away.  People began to avoid me as if I had the plague, so when Ken asked I said, quite harshly as I remember, "You don't want to know and you don't have the time it takes for me to tell you!"  He said, "Yes, I do want to know and we'll take however long it takes."

That opened a door that reassured me that I wasn't crazy, just grief-stricken.  Ken referred me to a class at the community college on the subject of grief.  I enrolled for January.

The first class with Jan Belknap was an explosion of affirmation and knowledge.  I learned that grief was not only acceptable, but that it is a psychological necessity to make real in our heart what our head already knows.  That night after class, I called my mother in Las Vegas and told her that if I survived, I was going to write a book.  No one should have to experience such loss without knowing what was happening to them.

I kept a journal and in the fall of 1983, about 18 months after Carmon's death, I began my promised book.  Using my journal and a lot of inspiration from God, I wrote a chapter at a time until it was done.  It was published in hard copy as The Living  Half.  When Deseret Book released it in paperback, a few years later, they retitled it All Alone: Surviving the Loss of a Spouse. (I actually  like my title better, but by then, they held the copyright and signed my royalties checks!)

Here are a couple of excerpts from the book, taken from my journal:

• August 29, 1982

I read the note on the refrigerator again and again: " Dear Kathy, Call the doctor Friday about my blood tests. See you Sunday. I love you, Carmy." It was Sunday.  Where was he?

I forgot to call the doctor.  I was so relieved when the doctor called me.  I thought, "How lucky I am.  I'll never have to tell  Carmon that I got busy and forgot him." Now it doesn't matter, but I still know; I got busy and forgot him.

• November 16, 1982

Today was Carmon's birthday.  Needless to say it has been a very difficult day for me. I awoke with the same empty pit of loneliness inside that I feel most mornings.  It would be nice to wake up full of joy and anticipation.  It's been so long that I've forgotten what joy feels like.  Sometimes the pain is almost more than I can bear.

• December 5, 1982

I'm sitting here by the fire, wrapped in a quilt, watching the lights twinkle on the Christmas tree.  The calendar says that it is December, less than three weeks until Christmas.  It is cold and hazy today.  We've had a night or two of freezing weather.  The world rolls on; the seasons change from summer to autumn and winter. I watch it all with a certain amazement, in my mind it is still August 29. It should be hot outside.  It is Sunday again and he is still not home.

. . . . .

Eleanor Knowles, former executive editor at Deseret Book, told that mine was the best book on the subject of grief she had ever read.  Many of the dozens of people who wrote to me told me that I was telling their story.  They related so intimately with the experience.

In 1984, the book was reviewed by Muriel Stevens of the Las Vegas Sun newspaper.  She wrote, in part:

The package was given to me just before I left the paper one night. Inside was a note from an old family friend, Barney Rawlings.  The no accompanied a book written by Barney and Hazel's daughter, Kathleen.  I picked it up meaning only to  leaf through it until I had time to read it.  After the first few pages, I gave up.  All else could wait.  I could not put it down. . . 

Just after I finished reading, I stopped by to chat with Ruthe Deskin.  She too had lost a beloved spouse and had been given a copy of the book by Barney. We discussed this meaningful tome, shed a few tears, and then we parted.

Many people who wrote to me told me that they, too, could not put it down once started.  If you or someone you know is struggling with unresolved grief, please give them a copy of All Alone: Surviving the Loss of a Spouse.  Order it online at www.deseretbook.com or www.amazon.com.

I think you'll be glad that you did!