Sacred Unraveling

Grief is more than sadness.

Grief is loving a person so much you would give up your life for them in an instant, but never being given the option.

Grief is grappling with the fact that you couldn’t protect them and wondering if you were good enough to be what they deserved.

Grief is more than sadness – it’s the trauma of the world suddenly looking darker and scarier and wildly unpredictable.

It’s the instability of a shifting identity, strained finances, impossible decisions, rebuilding your life from scratch and wrestling with existential questions that never mattered before. What happens after death? Why am I here and they are not? What’s the purpose of it all?

Grief is more than sadness; it’s suddenly getting lost on a road you’ve driven a million times. It’s being exhausted at simple tasks like cooking a meal or taking out the trash. It’s feeling spacey and forgetful and irritable at everything. It’s being scatterbrained and disorganized and shaking your head and saying “This isn’t me! I’m not like this! Why am I like this?”

It’s wondering if your way of grieving is normal. Its wondering if anything will ever be normal again.

Grief is all the unexpected little day to day differences you couldn’t have prepared for. Switching over to saying “I” instead of “we” and using past tense verbs. It’s finding a piece of their clothing mixed in with your laundry and realizing it’s probably the last time. It’s being nervous about using items they gifted you in case they wear out. It’s having inside jokes no one else understands anymore and holding sacred moments in time that no other living person is witness to. Grief is being madly in love with someone you can’t feel or touch or see. It’s realizing there were future human beings who will never exist now because you didn’t get to have children together.

Grief is more than sadness. It’s sometimes feeling at peace and then instantly feeling guilty for it. It’s coming to a place of acceptance for a moment and then wondering if you’ve betrayed your person.

Grief is having a person who is your entire world but being forced to live as though they’re not. Grief is walking into a room existing as half of a whole but knowing others only see one person. It’s feeling like they can’t fully know you without knowing your person too, but they never will.

Grief is living with an itch that can’t ever be scratched; a constant longing never fulfilled. Grief is wondering how you can possibly survive the next 50 years. It is the horrifying realization of how few of your years will have been shared with them by time you’re old.

Grief is more than sadness – it’s having to speak for your person and represent them and wondering if you are doing them justice. Its needing to make team decisions alone. It’s wondering which of your shared dreams to pursue.

Grief is realizing how much you loved their mind – their deep thoughts and intelligent ideas – wanting to learn from them, but the library burned down.

Grief isn’t just sadness – it’s bravery. It’s waking up every morning and choosing to live in a world devoid of the person who means the most to you. It’s choosing to keep going when you want to join them.

Grief isn’t just the initial loss – it’s all the secondary losses; a domino effect. Its your declining mental health and crumbling optimism; your now-jaded outlook. Its friendships that are lost when people feel too awkward around your grief. Its a hobby you used to love that feels ruined now with no one to share it with and favorite places that just aren’t fun to visit anymore.

Grief is a permanent part of you, a jagged scar, a broken bone that wasn’t set right.

Grief is every happy moment forever penetrated by a little jab of sadness.

American culture is very grief illiterate. Our culture wants positivity and silver linings. It doesn’t want to accept the permanence of grief. Sometimes people want me to hurry up and get better. They wonder how long it’s going to take. They hope once I’m “fixed” they don’t have to be uncomfortable anymore or wonder what to say. But grief is lifelong. Grief changes with time and it gets a little easier to live with but it never goes away.

My life will forever be plagued with the yearning for Caleb, a searing hole in my heart. Even when I am happy, I will always be a little sad. For the rest of my life. This isn’t me being negative, its just how it is. But our culture doesn’t like that.

I know people who refuse to keep pictures up of Caleb because to them it feels awkward or they think its a reminder only of his death. I’ve had someone try to change the subject when I mention Caleb. Some people stopped saying his name as if he didn’t exist. Friends have abruptly exited my life in painful ways because they think I’m a liability to their carefree happiness when I’m around. Sometimes I’m treated like a walking disease as if the tragedy is contagious.

I remember before I was a grieving person, I didn’t feel comfortable with grief either. I would scroll past grief posts quickly on the internet and sometimes I even felt annoyed at how much some people talked about it. Sometimes I thought they were attention-seeking or trying to push an understanding of their experience on unassuming passersby. So I get it. But its still harmful and its important to educate ourselves on grief. It’s important to ask questions “What do you need right now?” “How would you like me to support you?” and also to just listen. You don’t have to have the right words to say. Sometimes its better not to, but to just be there. Let the grieving person feel whatever they feel. Don’t try to fix it. Let them talk about their person. Ask about their person. Talk about their person like you would if they were still here. Don’t be afraid of “reminding” the grieving person of their grief. That’s not possible because it’s an ever-present reality. Often we are excited to talk about the person we love so much. It is a way for us to keep loving them, to keep interacting with their life and to honor them.

In that vein, I want to share here what I said at Caleb’s memorial service.

“Loving Caleb was the greatest gift I have ever received.

Something I deeply admired about Caleb was that if he was going to do something at all – he would do it all the way. A good example of that is his love for me.

When Caleb first met me, he fell for me hard – and I hardcore friend-zoned him. But Caleb was very persistent (in respectful ways). Finally after 8 months, I decided to give us a chance, and it’s the best decision I’ve ever made.

Caleb was all in in our relationship. He there for me, heart and soul. Early on I told him I had been diagnosed with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, and I warned him it would be difficult at times. It’s hard supporting someone with PTSD, but Caleb always believed in me and he saw past my diagnosis. He saw my potential, my character, my heart. He would tell me all the time “You’re going to get better, the PTSD isn’t you. No matter how hard it gets, I’m going to be there for you.” Whenever we would notice progress with my mental health, he would get this huge grin and tell me “Seeeee, I told you you would get better!” He was so proud of me.

Back before we were even dating, I was leading a PTSD support group that met in my home, and Caleb showed up to the first meeting – Even though Caleb doesn’t have PTSD. As we went around the introduction circle sharing why were were interested in the group, Caleb said “I have someone in my life whom I care about deeply who has PTSD, and I want to learn everything I can about it so I can support them better.” He meant me. He showed up faithfully every week.

When Caleb first discovered that he could give me CBD for my anxiety and that it actually worked, he was so happy he cried. Helping me quickly became one of the most important things to him – a life calling, even.

Caleb and I were inseparable from the first day we started hanging out – I went from being about 15 minutes early to everything to about 20-30 minutes late to my frequent community events, because he and I were trying to squeeze in time together. Hilariously, people definitely started to notice and knew what was up. But we didn’t care; we only wanted to never be apart.

Once when we were just friends, Caleb and I were sitting on the roof of a building downtown that we had climbed up, being the adventurous daredevils we were. We were watching the lights sparkling on the water and the stars coming out. I had been going through a particularly rough patch with my mental health and I was feeling frightened that if I got too close to the edge of the building I might throw myself off of it. I had been feeling very unstable and being too close to any danger triggered something in me. He asked me if I could pinpoint where that urge was coming from, and I said “I just don’t think anyone loves me, like really loves me.” Caleb got this look on his face where he seemed deeply moved. He put his hands on my shoulders and pulled me in a little so I was looking right at his face. He said slowly, emphasizing each word “Sarah. I. Love. You.” He repeated it and said “I don’t mean that like I just want to date you, I really love you. Even if no one else does.” At that point, I wasn’t ready to say it back to him, even though he wasn’t saying it in a romantic way. But I felt seen. I felt safe. Caleb helped me see my own value that day. I went through some very dark times and I firmly believe that Caleb saved my life.

On another particularly difficult day mental health day, Caleb heard I was struggling with the will to live and he immediately came to get me. Caleb took me for a little walk on the landing at the downtown waterfront. He held my hand and told me stories about his childhood. He pointed out the boats and sparkling waves and complained about the noisy seagulls. He was tender with me, telling me much he loved me, and calling me his Sarah Bear. He spoon-fed me chocolate ice cream, made me laugh and helped me see the beauty of life that day. Caleb gave me hope; he gently pulled me back from the precipice just by being himself.

Whenever I would get depressed Caleb assured me it would be okay with such a steadfastness that grounded me. When the world seemed like such a dangerous and negative place he helped me see the beauty of life. When I felt insecure, Caleb would stroke my hair and my face and tell me “I love you, I’ll protect you, I’ll be patient with you, I’m committed to you …” he would repeat that sentence over and over until I felt calm. He was so healing to me. Even just his touch – laying a hand on my neck or my shoulders, my muscles would immediately relax and I could feel the trauma and the negative energy that was trapped in my body start to dissipate. It was as if his hand could literally pull it out of my body.

When we first met, Caleb and I viewed the world pretty differently. We had the same values but different approaches. Over time we learned from each other and both moved toward each other on various issues. But I remember being so impressed that he accepted me for exactly who I was even though we didn’t agree on everything at the time. He didn’t categorize me based on my views but wanted to see into my mind and heart. He told me he admired my writing, that my heart for the world was so pure and good. He wanted to help me set up a blog to amplify my voice – even though my voice was different than his. I so deeply respected that. I remember thinking “This man is safe – this man accepts me now even when we were different, so I can trust that as I grow and change throughout the course of my life and as my beliefs grow and change – no matter where I land he’s going to continue to accept me.” And that actually is one of the main reasons I originally decided to give us a shot.

Caleb sacrificed so much for me but I know that he would want the world to know that I healed him as well. In the almost 4 years that we knew each other, I saw Caleb grow and heal in his own mental health. I have seen his smile get bigger over the years and he lit up anytime I walked into the room. I’ve heard from lots of people who knew him for many years say that they could see a physical change in him – he became lighter and brighter, more confident, more joyful, because he knew that he was loved. He told me he had been searching for me his whole life. I am so honored that I could love him the way he deserved.

Our connection was so magnetic that numerous times strangers would stop us in the streets to tell us how happy we made them, or that our love was so tangible that they could feel it. It happened so often it became an inside joke.

Caleb was so intentional in his commitment to me – He was always looking for ways to improve, to work on himself, to do better. He would tell me he wanted to be the partner I deserved. He was always researching marriage and long-term relationships and how to do those well. He would come up to me sometimes with a new idea he got from a podcast or a book and he’d be so excited. Once he said “I learned about this idea called marriage-meeting and you set aside time regularly and you talk about your affirmations for each other and your plans for the week and you work out any conflict – I want to do that, and I think we should do it every week.” And we did for a long time. It made our relationship healthy and strong and a safe place where we could trust each other. Thankfully I wrote down all his affirmations for me in those meetings and I have them to look back on now.

About a year and a half before his death, Caleb decided he was going to start hiding me little love notes around the house and in my things. Out of the blue they started popping up everywhere. I kept discovering these little handwritten notes in my pockets and my purse, in my makeup bag, in my car, on the bathroom mirror – these little tokens of his love for me, saying things like I meant the world him, that I was his Sarah Bear, that he loved me so much.

Caleb always kept a note on his dashboard that I had left for him under his wipers while walking past his car downtown one day. I didn’t have a pen with me so I wrote “I <3 U” with my red lipstick on a piece of scrap paper. He proudly displayed that for the rest of his life.

Caleb and I spent hours adventuring together, and we never ran out of things to talk about. We filled our evenings and weekends with longboarding, and chatting on long drives, camping and hiking hundreds of miles. Caleb was always so prepared when we went backpacking, with all of his nifty gadgets. He had a tool for everything! He once lent me a camping flashlight that came with five paragraphs of instructions! On one backpack trip we packed an entire carton of raw eggs 45 miles into the backcountry on a bumpy trail for five days because he wanted to make me a tasty breakfast over a campfire.

Caleb and I became deeply attuned to each other, we usually could always tell what the other person needed – sometimes even what they were thinking. It was very early on in our relationship that we knew that we were each other’s person for the rest of our lives. It happened out of the blue one day when we were just looking into each other’s eyes and at the exact same second we both realized that we wanted to get married to each other. I don’t know how we both knew that the other person was thinking this but we just did and in that exact same second, right after Caleb realized that I wanted to marry him too, he asked me right then and there he said so much emotion in his voice“Sarah, I want to marry you! Will you marry me??” and I paused for a brief moment, realizing that in this split second in time I was both realizing and committing to the decision that I wanted to be one hundred percent devoted to Caleb for the rest of my life. And I knew without a doubt that it was the right decision, I said “yes I want to!” Seeing the emotion that just poured over his face – I will never forget that moment – he started bawling happy tears laughing and crying and he pulled me into the biggest bear hug and held me there and cried for a long time. He was so happy. We were so excited to marry each other.

After committing our lives to each other, Caleb immediately started calling me wifey. He started telling me that he (and I quote) “was going to marry the fuck out of me”, he kept talking about how beautiful we were both going to look on our wedding day with our luscious long hair. He wanted the whole world to know how much he loved me. He told me, “I will never get divorced. I’m committing to you for the rest of my life. This is it.”

‘Caleb – I never got a chance to publicly declare my wedding vows to you. But today I will declare these vows to you. Caleb, I vow to keep my love for you alive every single day. I vow to spread your story throughout the earth wherever I go. I vow to be an extension of your life and to live for both of us – to do the things that you never got to do, to finish the work you began, to love the people you loved and to care for them, to embody your values. Caleb, I vow to honor you by rebuilding my life. I vow that wherever I go, people will know your name and they will know how much you radically changed my life. Caleb, I vow to be your legacy.’ “

Once in my early twenties, I saw a photo set on the internet of a bride in a wedding dress. At first glance it was a typical, happy bride on her wedding day. But there was no groom. And she held a triangularly-folded flag. Her husband-to-be had died in active duty and this brave woman was honoring him by holding his burial flag and wearing the dress he never got to marry her in.

I remember feeling deeply moved. This was so heartbreaking and powerful. It was beautiful and it made me uncomfortable. It drew me in and pushed me away. Having never lost someone close to me, I didn’t understand grief and my natural instinct was studying her in curiosity and then averting my gaze, as if somehow coming too close to her grief would curse me.

In spite of my mixed admiration and awkwardness, this woman stood out as a hero to me. While nothing about her story resonated with me personally at the time, somehow she stayed with me. I wondered who she was and how she could go on. I couldn’t fathom how she survived each day and what her life might look like now.

Little did I know, almost a decade later I would fall completely and madly in love. And then, not long before our wedding day, I would follow in this woman’s footsteps, navigating the trail she blazed. I would survive the unthinkable. My life, my future, my deepest connection – my very identity and essence of self – forever and drastically changed in an instant.

This woman, whose name I don’t know and whose pictures I can’t find again, goes before me. Her tragedy wasn’t contagious as part of me had feared. No one has that kind of power. Rather, she is my grief ancestor. A warrior goddess I draw strength from. I look to her and many like her.

I too, wore my wedding dress. I stood in a mountain meadow that Caleb and I loved and considered for our wedding location. I wore the flower crown I chose because Caleb said I looked “angelic” with flowers in my hair. I softly ran my fingers over the lace Caleb would have loved on me but never got to see. I held his picture. I courageously took photos while drowning in a tidal wave of conflicting emotions – anguish, sadness, disbelief, love, pride, resolve, even happiness.

At Caleb’s funeral, I stood before the audience that should have been sitting in front of our wedding altar – not a podium and an urn. I wrote and shared stories that highlighted what made Caleb the incredible man he was: his character, how he healed me and the difference he made in the world. I altered my wedding vows and solemnly promised myself to Caleb just as I would have done under different circumstances. This is what I said:

“Caleb – I never got a chance to publicly declare my wedding vows to you. But today I will declare these vows to you. Caleb, I vow to keep my love for you alive every single day. I vow to spread your story throughout the earth wherever I go. I vow to be an extension of your life and to live for both of us – to do the things that you never got to do, to finish the work you began, to love the people you loved and to care for them, to embody your values. Caleb, I vow to honor you by rebuilding my life. I vow that wherever I go, people will know your name and they will know how much you radically changed my life. Caleb, I vow to be your legacy.”

Widowhood is a heart-stabbing, gut-wrenching pain I wouldn’t wish on anyone. We are coming up on one year since Caleb’s passing. My sweet, strong, protective, handsome Caleb. The love of my life.

It is because of Caleb that Sacred Unraveling even exists. He is the one who encouraged me that my writing was worth reading.

Caleb saved my life. When we met, I was just coming out of a messy divorce. I thought I was unlovable and I truly wanted to die. Caleb showed me what true love is, long before it was romantic. One particularly dark day when the urges to end my life were almost overwhelming, Caleb took me for a walk along the boardwalk at the downtown waterfront where he told me stories and spoon fed me chocolate ice cream. He pointed out boats and the sparkling waves and complained about the noisy seagulls. Boy, he hated those seagulls. Caleb kept me alive that day.

When Caleb expressed interest in a romantic relationship, I was terrified. All my walls were still up and I was afraid of getting hurt again. He said he wanted to “be a team, and be that one person for each other who you always know has your back.” Risking my heart to love again was worth it one thousand times over. Caleb fiercely protected my heart and gently healed it, and he definitely always had my back. Loving someone with PTSD is challenging, because every day you have to contend with trauma you didn’t cause. It can be complicated and messy and confusing and painful. Caleb was patient through my insecurities and my meltdowns and my lashing out as a lifetime of trauma bubbled to the surface and together we wrestled it to the ground, piece by piece. Finally I was safe enough to begin examining the broken parts of me and building something new with them. Caleb would hold me for hours, stroking my face and hair as I cried and asked him over and over again if he would always love me and never leave me. Caleb promised to love me for the rest of my life. I am still alive, and I still have his love.

I believe Caleb is alive too. His body isn’t anymore, but he is. I feel him. He has visited me multiple times through intensely powerful mystical encounters that the church stubbornly refuses to acknowledge can happen sometimes. When Caleb walked the earth with me, strangers would stop us somewhat regularly to tell us they could feel our love radiating from across the street, or that the sight of us brought them joy, or that they saw a kind of deep happiness in us that was rare. “Hold onto that forever”, they said. I always suspected something was different about us. There was a magic between us that seemed foreign to most averagely happy couples. I believe his visits after death prove that even more. We belong to each other. We are eternally one.

At Caleb’s funeral, I altered our wedding vows that I would have declared to him just a few months later at a little meadow in the mountains, surrounded by our family and closest friends. But that day, standing on a stage for a reason I never imagined, I vowed to keep my love alive for him every day, to honor him and share his story. I vowed that wherever I go, people will know his name. I vowed to carry on his work, love the people he loved, and be his legacy.

I’ll be sharing bits of Caleb’s story here at Sacred Unraveling. Loving Caleb was the epitome of finding sacredness. Being loved by Caleb was a beautiful unraveling of pain and knitting it into something holy. Our union might not mirror what the church would have prescribed for us, but it is where I found divinity.