Anyone who knows me, knows that I’m not a good liar. I get all flushed and red in the face, I can’t make eye contact and inevitably I stumble over my own words in trying to make up a story that might be remotely convincing. I’m a terrible liar and have been good with that character flaw.

However, grief has made me a liar – a decent one I think.

The heartbreak and sorrow is so profound at the beginning that it’s impossible to even try to contain it. I avoided people at all costs because I knew that I would lose my shit if someone asked me how I was doing. I survived on pizza and wine for the first month….the pizza I had delivered and the wine, well the wine was already in the house (Tony was a wine maker). I’m pretty sure that the pizza delivery kid knew my address by heart and looked forward to seeing the weird lady in pj’s because I was a good tipper. We had a thing going – he was friendly, I barely smiled, he made a comment about the weather, I would then agree, I would give him a big tip and he wished me a good day. He didn’t ask me how I was and that was fantastic!

I had an intervention with myself and pushed myself to get into the world. It felt too loud, too bright….well, just too much life. I soon realized that I had to come up with a good one liner to answer people’s question of “how’s your day going?”. I couldn’t tell them the truth; that would be traumatizing for them when they’re just being pleasant to an utterly emotionally destroyed woman.

I learned to lie. To say “alright” when I wasn’t alright. To say “ok” when I sure as shit wasn’t ok. I learned to then say “how’s your day?” even though I honestly didn’t care and just wanted my husband back. I leaned into the lying and I started to feel comfortable with it. Grief made me a liar. I wish I could have been honest. I wish I could have told them how much my heart ached and how putting on clothes was a big effort. I wish I could have said thank you for asking me about my day and that they reminded me that life continued on regardless of my pain. I wish that my honesty could have been met with compassion, openness and acceptance. But I learned early on that people are just being pleasant and they don’t want to hear the pain. That’s ok, I get it. It’s heavy and messy and ugly. That’s how I have felt since the day Tony died.

Lying comes so easy now that I have to think about the truth. How am I feeling? How am I managing? What do I want? Funny how the pendulum swings in weird and unexpected ways. I guess grief has taught me how to soften the truth just enough to make it digestible. I now find myself lying because it’s expected that at almost three years, that I will move on and stop being so impacted as a widow. Grief makes people uncomfortable and they want to move on. I wish it was as simple as that. I really do.

I dislike being a liar. I’m not always safe to be honest and vulnerable. It’s a conundrum that I haven’t figured out yet. I’m comforted to know that I’m not the only one in this position. I’m in a group of amazing people who are excellent liars!!! And I’m so grateful I’m not alone in this.

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Cecilia Mannella

Widowhood entered suddenly on June 17, 2016 when the love of Cecilia’s life died. They had a whirlwind of a love story which was fun, exciting and calming. This started her relationship with grief and loss. As a social worker, therapist, teacher, writer and human, she embarked on a bumpy yet remarkable path in her life. Cecilia is still working on discovering who she is as a woman, a sister, a daughter, a widow, a helper and a friend. She has been humbled by the depth of pain and suffering while learning that she is stronger than she thought. Cecilia has learned the strength, courage and beauty in all the widows that she has had the pleasure of connecting with. Cecilia knows that writing is her ability to be vulnerable to the world in a way that is difficult. Words are the expression of her soul and she connects to others through their words. As a therapist, she brings a different slant to her writing that explores therapeutic approaches for healing that she has tried herself. What she has learned, is that there aren’t just 5 stages of grief but that grief is a soul changing experience which propels you into being a different person. You can also find her on her blog Widow Living Instagram @widowedliving and Facebook @widowedliving

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