No matter what time of year, the grocery store is one of the worst places for grieving people. Those mundane and ordinary actions are so heavy. Every shelf holds evidence of how your life has changed.
In general, my energy stores have largely come back to their pre-death status. It’s been ages since a day seemed far more insurmountable than I could handle. Every single interaction no longer drains me, as it did in the first few years. I need less time to recover from being “out in the world” than I did when grief was fresh.
I remember those early days of grief – those days when managing to get out of bed was a gigantic accomplishment. When each and every action came wrapped in a haze of barbed wire and molasses. When even the tiniest interaction exhausted me to the point of needing the safety and quiet of my bed.
Here’s what’s true: in those early days of grief, every moment comes with lead and heaviness. Things that would have been no more than a blip on your to-do list take gargantuan effort. A “simple” trip to the grocery store is anything but simple – you could run in to any number of people who want to know “how are you really?”
You’re just trying to hold it together enough to get your bananas and get out, but the rest of the world sees this as a prime moment to catch up with you on your deepest, innermost thoughts. As though you’d spill them there, in the produce section, to your neighbor’s friend’s barista, when you haven’t shared them with anyone else.
Grief makes a simple trip to the grocery store anything but simple. There are grief landmines everywhere. Click To TweetIt’s funny – whenever I talk about the specific difficulties of grocery shopping, almost everyone has their own story to share – some only shop after ten pm to avoid any people they might know, others drive an hour out of their way just to be able to shop anonymously. Abandoned shopping carts are quite common in the world of grieving hearts.
Those well-meaning, yet intrusive, questions into your inner emotional state can come at any time, no matter how much you may not want to talk about it.
That’s yet another thing people outside of grief wouldn’t normally think about: how, especially if your loss was out-of-order or unusual, it becomes a topic up for public discussion. Any time you are out in public, people feel the need to come close, to ask, to check on you. It doesn’t often matter whether you are friends with the person or not. In fact, the more distant the relationship, the more probing you might receive while hovering over that produce bin.
I know I stopped shopping at a certain store because a friend-of-a-friend worked there; if she saw me, a long drawn out series of inquiries would begin. I realize I could have told her to stop, but that took energy, interest, and skills I did not have in me at that time.
It didn’t matter that getting groceries took double or triple the time, with that added drive to another town. Shopping somewhere else made more sense. Grocery shopping itself was painful – reaching for his favorite foods, stopping mid-air, remembering he will never eat them again, putting them back, repeating this in every new aisle. The only way to make that pain tolerable was to mitigate any other potential stress or pain.
No wonder grief is so exhausting. It’s not just the intense actual pain of loss. It’s the sheer number of tiny things that need to be avoided, endured, planned for. Impossible to tell from the outside, but those of us in grief absolutely understand. We all have our stories of exhaustion, avoidance, and the need to just not talk.
This week, I’m wishing you the space to tell your stories when and where you see fit, and a vast, invisible shield of protection for you, as you move in the world without wanting to talk to anyone at all. And maybe, someone else to get the groceries for you.
As always, I love your questions and your comments – do you have grocery store stories to share? How have you altered your usual paths in order to protect what energy you have? Let us know in the comments.
SO TRUE…running into people who hunt you down in the aisles, these are the same people who would not pick up the phone to check in on me or drop off a banana bread at my house, or show up to help shovel my snow….the things I do need, surprisingly nobody is around for that. But when they spot me in the dairy aisle they feel a full volume discussion on my current mental state is perfectly acceptable. More difficult is changing my shopping habits now that I now longer buy the special items my husband loved to eat, the little thrill when I found something he would enjoy…even the memory of buying him ‘sick food’ that soothed him when he wasnt feeling well, none of that anymore. Just shopping for me, and hoping I dont buy too much so it all rots in the fridge.
I felt this 100%. Wishing you peace ❤
So true!!! It’s been 8 weeks today since my husband of 35 years passed away unexpectedly in his sleep. Going shopping is difficult for me also. I find myself trying to rush in and out in hopes of not running into anyone I know. I understand people mean well, but I hate it when when they ask “how are you doing?” ,and then the cashier asks ” are you having a good day?” ,and follow it with “have a good day.” Those comments usually bring on a wave of emotions and tears start and I just excuse myself.
Oh yes I can certainly relate to this. Not only the enquiries from the people you run into and the remembering that Peanut M&Ms are my sons favourite, but also the songs playing in the store and the brain fog that results in loosing your wallet, keys and glasses somewhere in the fruit and vegie section when you put them down momentarily to fill a bag with apples, I also remember not being able to write or follow a shopping list. I remember the countless drive-bys of Aldi Carpark and coming home empty handed.
The quiet little IGA near home ended up being my saving grace…it was where I would just buy what was needed for the day…this got me through for months until I started being able to shop in bigger supermarkets and could manage the anxiety and sadness I felt. Much love to all…be kind to yourself! The world needs you when you are ready xx 🙏💙🦋 Kylie Gangemi @withwingsofgrace.australia
Too many memories linger in the grocery store to shop any more. David went with me to these stores, pushing the cart, grabbing what he liked. Ever the patient man, as I selected the items for our breakfast, lunch and dinners. Grocery shopping was the only kind of shopping I liked, now I hate it. That’s correct I hate shopping for food. Every aisle is a reminder of what was, what I lost. Then the people whom either scurry, avoid, or approach you entails a not so warm feeling. Like you really want to be there, you really want to see others. Never mind about ME, its always about you and your comfort level. I am angry. Angry is my best friend these days. Seriously, shopping sucks.
shopping does suck.
angry cannot be your best friend, its too busy being my best friend.
Sheryl, you could not have said that better.
It always feels like early grief. I miss my daughter and our family the way it was when she was with us. It’s been 2 and 1/2 years of sadness.
It’s been six years and it still feels that way
Nearly 15 years and there’s still a gaping hole
My struggle in the grocery store, and it is a struggle, is that so many items in the store remind me of my mom. The coffee aisle contains her favorite k-cups, the chip aisle has the wavy chips she bought to go with her famous red dip. The next thing I know I am in the candy aisle staring at the bag of candy she filled her candy dish with. I turn the corner and I see greeting cards on display. My heart aches. I want to go find the perfect card to send her as I have done so often in the past. Before long overwhelming sadness consumes me and I just want out of the store. I grab a box of Kleenex , hurry through the self check-out without purchasing anything I came to buy. I know someday all the items that serve as a reminder of my mom will bring me comfort. Now, however, because the grief is so fresh the items I see on the shelves cause pain, loneliness, and a longing for what once brought joy and happiness.
Going anywhere just requires so much energy to keep
It together. I lost my oldest son on September 26th of this year, I am running on automatic pilot with a few gears missing. Can’t get interested in anything or stay focused. I know he would want me to keep living, but some days I wonder if it is worth it. It does not take much of anything to trigger a melt down. I have a daughter and three grandkids that I have to keep functioning for, they miss their brother and uncle horribly. My husband just carries on like nothing happened. I get so mad when he asks me what is wrong. I want to scream like “duh! Our son died! Isn’t that enough?” I feel like I am all alone in this journey of trying to find some sense in i this nightmare.
Janette,
I heard and felt every word.
I lost my daughter last year.
The pain is excruciating .
I know I’m not the only one grieving but no one comprehends the pain of a mother losing her child.
When that pains breaks the surface, they question ‘what’s wrong’ and you wonder why they needed to ask.
I was waiting for a train. I looked at the tracks and thought about how easy it would be to take all this pain away. The only thing stopping me was that my 2 sons and daughter were with me.
I miss my daughter, my best friend, so much.
Grief is exhausting and relentless.
Yes!!! I can totally relate… it’s been almost a year that my daughter died… I’m having an issue with the grocery store… not sure where it came from just out of the blue… grief is just too exhausting!!! I can’t seem to focus or have the energy for anything 💔
I lost my oldest son 11 days ago…he was 20…I still cant leave the house and I have other littles to take care of but it is just everything I can do to shower….I get it…
I understand completely. I used to go shopping with my mom, not only to grocery stores but Kohls, TJ Maxx etc. The times I have tried to go back in, I leave feeling sick to my stomach. This was something I used to love to do with her. It’s been 2 yes and I still can’t manage it. Then I get mad at myself, asking myself, “what’s wrong with me….”.
I’m angry too! I just don’t want to go to the grocery store I don’t want to talk to any of his family or friends. Honestly I don’t want to talk with anyone I just want to be left alone in my own misery.
I go to this little corner store by my house, for a can of pop or a loaf of bread. A girl who works there, that knew me and henry as a couple said yesterday ” you look great, you look happy” ……happy? Happy? What is that ???? Cause i have some mascara on and my eyes arent puffy from crying ( like i did today or 5 minutes ago) doesnt mean im happy…. im alive, i smiled, i put mascara on….
One wonders if anyone even looked at our faces before “Grief” arrived. Our Face becomes the barometer of what may lie within…. All those “What ifs”, that no one wants to ask.
I stopped bothering with mascara because it ended up wiped up on the tissues with the tears. It was usually gone by lunchtime. It’s taken seven years as well as hundreds of hours and thousands of dollars with a psychologist doing EMDR to be able to get through the day without crying.
I have definitely learned not to try and do a big grocery haul. It’s way too emotionally overwhelming, and…yes, most of it will rot in the fridge. Thankfully I live in a large metropolitan area and can (usually) shop anonymously somewhere not too far from home. Thank you all for sharing as it makes me realize my feelings are normal. It has been 140 days since my husband breathed his last breath. We all still wait for him to pull in the drive or walk in the door…
I just did the first “big haul” since my dad died two months ago (following my mother’s death in 2016)…my mother and I loved cooking together…every aisle was some memory of one of them…or catching myself thinking, “I’ll get the extra two cubed steaks in the family pack, we’ll bring a meal to Papa.” Combo of kid-birthday-party/hosting-Thanksgiving-prep led to big-haul shopping…but more than that, I was stocking up from two months of *not* grocery shopping and just running in for milk or bread. I didn’t realize till I was tearing up over the packages of beef stew meat, I’ve been avoiding grocery shopping for two full months because of GRIEF. I love cooking. I just spent too much on a trunk full of supplies for what I’m sure will be cooking-therapy. But first, I’m balling crying in the driveway and patting myself in the back for getting through the first real shopping trip as an adult orphan. #youngmatriarch
This is so well said. The grocery store is one of the hardest places to navigate through after losing someone who is our everything. I am coming up to a 29 anniversary this week and the orange tic tacs by every single cash can still bring me to tears -my little brother ate handfuls of them to help psychologically get the various football sized chemo pills down every day. Or watching a little brother and sister play or help mom with groceries can have me fall apart in aisle nine. My loss is so long ago that other people who do know have a hard time understanding why it still hurts and why after all these years it continues to shape my life and the choices I make. Thank you for giving us a safe space here to share what living with loss and long term grieving feels like.
Very well said, Jocey. “The grocery store is one of the hardest places to navigate through after losing someone who is our everything.”
…The grocery store is where I often went topsy-turvy after my mother died and my “Bittersweet Last Year with Mom” ended. For months, I binged. Ah, how I remember that gut-wrenching time.
Thanks for the reminder. Forgot about the grocery-store craziness.
FYI, writing to you Megan. Quoting you in my next book.
Shopping. Shopping is where you get treats for your daughter. Where almost everything makes you think of her, because that’s what you do with your child: you feed them. Getting closer to two years out now. It’s still not a simple task.
Shopping any kind of shopping is horrible my daughter hannah passed 4 months ago, she was diagnosed with a rare brain tumor DIPG when she was 4 and fit hard for 22 months… and every task is heart breaking taking her brother to school, just looking in the review mirror and not seeing her… going to the grocery store brings on panic attacks as she would be throwing stuff in the shopping cart saying mommy can I get this bubby would want this she loved rainbows and unicorns and we couldn’t go to food city without getting a balloon and a piece of cake so all these things on top of everything else hurts deeply most times I feel like I am not moveing or the floor is falling out from underneath me….I don’t live close to anyone I know because we had to move for work so I don’t have the problem of running into anyone but the greeting how is your day and then when you pay hope you have a nice day knowing I will never have a good day again….looseing loved ones is terrible…prayers for all who are grieving
Thanks for writing about this, Megan. When I was a new widow, it made me feel (almost) like a “normal” person when I read of other grieving souls’ aversions to grocery shopping.
In the earliest months after losing my mother, and then again after my husband’s death, buying groceries was excruciating. There were too many choices for my overwhelmed mind to process. There were too many foods I’d routinely purchased for them, not for me. I “lost it” more times than I could count. (“Crying puddle cleanup on aisle five, please…”) After coming face-to-face with THE paramedics who’d come to our house the night my husband died, I avoided both of the stores closest to my house (and the local fire station) for months. At 4 1/2 years, sometimes I still drive out of my way.
(I’ve included a link to your post on my latest blog entry, “You can’t put a bandage on grief.”)
I got goosebumps reading this and the comments. Going to the grocery store after my husband died was one of the hardest things. I used to sit in the car and cry before I went in and then cry all the way home. How could I plan meals for 2, my son and I, instead of 3? No more buying his yogurt and other special things. I wanted to dress in mourning, look at me, I wanted to shout, I am doing this, although my heart is broken. And then the checkout people: hi how are you? Such an inane question. Not okay, not okay.
I broke down crying today when I was asked that. Getting the bank check to pay for the cremation service wrecked me as well. “Who do you want the check made out to?” Immediate sobbing.
Oh wow, Karla. This so touches me!
Oh, boy… This is the first site I’ve read in my 4-and-a-half years of grief recovery–a friend said she didn’t think I had yet begun to grieve. That’s a scary thought. What’s all the crying, then, been about, and if this isn’t grief then what happens next?–that I could identify with. I’m not sure why. Shopping. I found/find myself eating out because shopping takes, even though it saves money, an energy, both mental and physical, that I am loath to cede. Eating alone with a book was/is better than shopping. Wayne loved to shop. It was his weekend highlight. We cooked, often, together. I feel guilty for not wanting to do a thing that made him so happy. We were married 44 years, and I took care of him a year at home prior to his death, and all the foods he loved while healthy and the ones he didn’t love that he ate while he died are on those grocery shelves. When I think of shopping I think of miles and miles of aisles and aisles and, “Please God, don’t let me see anybody”. I ate breakfast out this morning. Was it fun? Not exactly. But. It was better than shopping.
Hi Suzanne. Welcome. I’m glad you’re here, and sorry you have need to be. Grocery stores truly suck.
Reading the post and the comments soothes my soul. Thank you. My son loved food.
My husband was diagnosed with Cancer July 23 2015. We were cautiously optimistic. Sept 11 things changed drastically. He died Sept 15th, 2015. I have been following your posts and really find comfort. He was 59yrs old. I went back to work a couple weeks ago to a different part time position. My daughter and I ventured to the stores last weekend to TRY to plan Thanksgiving. At every corner, I ran into someone I hadn’t seen yet. They wanted to know if we were Christmas shopping?? What?? My world is gone and I am walking in a foreign land. My heart lies scattered everywhere. There is no way to prepare(nor was there time). I force myself to stay busy. Because stopping is too hard. I went to a therapist–she said “you are doing great”. What??? No I am not! I saw her 3 times–every time, was the same thing. I know every one’s grief is different at the same time similar. The house is so empty. No one to cook for, or take care of. Kids are grown. Thank you for your posts.
Robin, my first husband of 20 years was 55 when he died of cancer. That was in 1998 when I was 45. I remarried in 2011 and recently lost my second husband suddenly to an accident when his aorta burst while driving a race car. I saw your post about shopping and want you to know, I am thinking of you and your daughter. There are so few who get this…especially about shopping and how painful it is. . There is so much about grief I can’t share with people. It somehow helps to know there are others who understand. I won’t pretend to know your loss even though this is a similar loss for me, each one is different with different challenges. Just know I get it…shopping sucks!
My heart goes out to you…I went through the same loss as you. My husband was diagnosed with cancer Feb. 26 and after fighting 8 short weeks, he died. I, though, haven’t gone to any therapists…but my Mother, also a widow, but after being able to enjoy my father for 60 years, told me I’m doing good, everything will be fine, I screamed at her that everything is NOT fine. I pray for guidance, for meaning, but am also so angry and fearful of what life has in store or where it’s heading. I go to work, smile, tell all I’m “fine” and smile when they ask how I am. I’m not fine and by the end if the week, I’m exhausted and lonely. Our two children are grown and have their families, too. This Sunday would have been my husband/best friend’s birthday. I just want that day, like the holidays to be done and over. Thats all we can do. Put one foot in front of the other and love what we had and try to find our way. You, me, others, we aren’t alone.
No doubt about it the grocery market is a huge horror for me. Before my sons suicide in March this year I didn’t mind marketing for food. Now it is torture! As if the memories of trips that included him or products for him was not enough to deal with, Oh NO. the people they scurry away as if you are contaminated, or cozy up close to commiserate what they don’t know or the ghouls ( the ones who gloat that your misfortune will never befall them) who preach pap at you for brownie points. I ask a very DEAR friend to go with me when I must go, I don’t have to explain WHY to her she Knows, she keeps me on track, slows or stops the people and most important makes sure I don’t pass the peanut butter or bread. For now this is the only way I can get this torture done.
My son died by suicide in 2015. He was 27. Shopping is hard but then again everything is a big struggle
I’m still in very early days of losing my husband. He often did all the grocery shopping, so it is even more of an ordeal now than it ever was, and what is making it even worse is the fact I have lost most of my desire to eat. Oh, I know I have to, and I do, but it’s not a pleasure any more. I also realize as I shopped by rote for awhile, that I am not interested in eating what we used to eat. He was a meat and potatoes guy, he loved pasta too, and that’s mostly what we ate, but given the choice, I now eat fish and vegetables. I am shocked to find out my palate has changed in response to my loss. I too tend to shop at a different store. My local one is too familiar and it just feels like a place where I miss him more than one I’m unfamiliar with. Megan, your writing is really helping me realize everything I feel is common to our loss. I don’t feel so alone with it.
Your the the first person i have heard of going off meat like me. My hubby passed away from brain cancer 3 months ago, i buy cooked chiken breast and i will eat fish but i cant cook meat or eat it and until my husband died i enjoyed meat.
Bananas and waffles…I can’t bear to see these in the store…they were my husbands favorites. It’s been a year…his waffles are still in the freezer reminding me each time I open the door that he will never again have them for breakfast…and yet I can’t throw them out.
I have a package of egg rolls my Mom made. I never cooked them… I even moved them into my new house that she never got to see. It’s been 4+ years since she passed away. I want to have them so I can have her cooking again; but I also don’t since there’ll be no more after that.
When my husband was sick, food became a control issue. He would have his heart set on something, only to be unable to taste or tolerate it. And he would refuse things he should eat. I had not cried for weeks after his death but after that first trip to the grocery store I sat in my car and wept. It didn’t help that my favorite cashier asked where I had been as she hadn’t seen me in a long time. I felt bad for her as I had to tell her what happened, because I knew it was about to get uncomfortable.
6 months out, if I’m feeling particularly sad when I go to the grocery store, I hope to run into friends. I have no qualms about asking for a hug when I need it.
This is so true. On Sunday I visited a shop I had been avoiding. A lady I knew came running up to me all excited “what did you have?” (My son was stillborn 16months ago). The floor gave way under me as I said “my baby died”. I am still not over the shock of that interaction.
I am so happy I found this site. It is very real and the “grocery shopping” experience has not been mentioned anywhere but here. Mark and I went shopping together every week. He loved it, he loved food and the whole grocery store experience. He liked it more than I did. He like the specialty stores, with prepared items, he loved to see new things, Whole Foods etc. It has been 4 months and one week since he has been gone. It was a sudden death. I have not been able to return to my “regular store” near our house, nor have I been able to go to his favourite “gourmet” type store. I drive to another town as well. I sort of hold my breathe when I walk in and look at all the things I don’t have to buy anymore. Or wish I could buy because I would be cooking for two . I think of things I would have made. We didn’t have children and we were together all of the time except for work. It is like I am living in an odd world, where nothing really matters anymore. I cry when I am walking around, by the time I get to the check out, I am sure the cashier knows I have been crying. The grocery store is truly the hardest thing because it feels so personal. Another weekend ahead and no food in the house, I forced to buy something. Often I just pick up something and I don’t always want to do that.
I experienced an out of order death last March when my 24 year old brother suffered a massive (and completely unexpected) seizure. The night before we took him off life support I had to run to the store and I remember the cashier asking how I was. I couldn’t answer honestly because it was too painful, and really, she didn’t want to know what I was going to experience the next day. But it was that moment that I realized that even just going to the store for Chapstick in the days and months after his death were going to be hard. The small chat and the simple, honest “how are you” question. Then after he died, I learned how being at the grocery store felt like a being in a fishbowl living in the town I grew up in that now lost a 24 year old.
Your blogs are the best, real material I’ve read since I started this journey last March. Thank you so much for sharing.
I facilitate grief support groups in a small town on an island in Alaska. Without fail, this topic of the grocery store emerges with each group. Everyone has a grocery store experience or a few to share. This shared experience is a significant point of bonding for group members.
Now, when we read the passage below from A Grief Observed by C.S. Lewis I change the words, “in the street” to “in the grocery store.”
“An odd byproduct of my loss is that I’m afraid of being an embarrassment to everyone I meet. At work, at the club, in the street, I see people, as they approach me, trying to make up their minds whether they’ll “say something about it” or not. I hate it if they do, and if they don’t . . .”
My husband and I shopped together every week on Saturday, and we made “grocery store friends” that shopped at the same time we did. We also befriended employees who were used to seeing us together. While he was home on hospice, I ran to the store whenever there was someone to sit with him, and that was never on Saturday morning, so I didn’t see my friends for a while. However, the employees would ask me why I was shopping at the odd times, and I told them. Every one of them just reached out and hugged me. One employee told me that if I needed anything from the store but couldn’t leave home, I could call her and she would drop it off at my house. The employees told the others what was going on with me, and when he died, I received cards from many of them. That first Saturday morning that I went back to the store to shop, I saw all my friends. I don’t know how they knew, but they didn’t ask how I was doing or anything else stupid. They just hugged me, said they were sorry for my loss, and asked if I needed help while in the store. I was absolutely amazed at the love and caring from them, and also at the sensitivity. As far as the actual shopping was concerned, I experienced much of the pain that others have mentioned. Life is different. I am different. It isn’t what I asked for or wanted, but it is what it is and I learned to deal with it. And when I see his favorites on the shelf, I still have the urge to put them in the cart. Since he died, a new store has opened up in our town, and I’ve switched stores to shop there. It has helped me to establish my new normal. As for the old store, employees have left and the friends don’t shop there any more. I can go in there now and not be reminded of how it used to be.
And every time I went to the store for forty years, he was there to carry the groceries in. It didn’t matter what he was doing, when I got home, he came straight to the car. When the kids were little, he’d say “c’mon, your Mom needs our help”. A little thing, but pulling in the driveway and unloading the car feels like the loneliest job in the world.
That is the worst…carrying groceries i didn’t want to get up 19 stairs. Putting then away and realizing I bought the cream for his coffee…again. 4 times in the last 3 months…i don’t even drink coffee.
For the first year after our son died, we shopped in a completely different town and I could not go alone so my husband would come and he actually took over the cooking too. I learned to cook because we had a family and I was home more than my husband. I can no longer cook because nearly everything I made was to please my son’s appetite which was unique and expansive. We will occasionally shop at our usual store two years out but we go early or try to go when we will not see anyone. I still find life challenging but I try everyday. It’s so easy to become a hermit after you’ve experienced great loss.
Thank you so much for sharing this. I can’t believe how closely it resembles my story. After my daughter died I was unable to do anything for awhile. When I did venture out to Target or the grocery store, it was at five or six in the morning. If I saw anyone I knew, I would dodge and hide. It was a nightmare within a nightmare. And yes, if I did run into a casual aquaintance, they would be overly solicitous and act like my best friend. Its been fourteen years now. Up until now I thought my grocery shopping phobia was crazy, and i was the only one. Thanks again.
I have used shopping / delivery services since I lost my husband of 42 yeas at Christmas. I did not realize grocery shopping was going to be as difficult as it was. We shopped together every Saturday, and even when his health deteriorated he rode along and sat in the car to keep me company. I too have lost my taste for meat and have wondered what is wrong with me. Cooking almost makes me ill because he always helped decide the menus. I cry when I see items in the cupboard that were “his” favorites. I’m heartened to know this is common grief with so many, yet so, so sad we have to find this out. You are a true blessing.
I lost my 59 year old sister to pancreatic cancer at the end of October. Her last year of life was brutal beyond endurance. She was strong not by choice but by circumstance. I do not live in the same city or even country as she and much of my family do. There was no funeral but a celebration of life will be done at the beginning of May. This has left me so disconnected and I grieve every day especially for the way she had to die. And I miss being able to pick up a phone and talk to her every day. I am lucky that my memories of my sister are not attached to the grocery store. In fact, I received the oddest solace from a trip shortly after her death. There was a wonderfully sweet clerk I happily chat with at my favorite store and when she asked me how I was I told her about my sister. This woman came out from behind where she worked and gave me the most welcome hug. I could have broken down and sobbed for hours right then for the kindness she showed me. The act of that hug had meaning for me she did not even know. I had had a hug from my husband when my sister died but living far from family and even my closest friends there had been no others to give me this simplist form of support.
The day my husband Budd left Mother Earth I of course called family and friends. It had been a very long illness and caregiving journey. I now am fully aware people who have not experienced this kind of loss simply don’t know what to say or do…and I certainly was one of them. On that day I was numb…walking and talking yet I was NOT present. This best friend said I had to go to the grocery store and she would take me, that I needed groceries. I recall not really wanting to go however I was just not strong enough to resist but rather just followed her lead. It was the most painful thing to do that day and she had no idea, as I walked down aisles witnessing foods he loved…crying I literally had to plead that I needed to go and whatever I had in hand was fine…I needed to get out. All I wanted to do is run as fast as I could away from the grocery store. It’s been 6 months and I still recall that memory and unfortunately I carry a resentment that my good friend was “not good for me” that day…and grocery shopping is now a necessary task that holds uncomfortable feelings and I avoid people I might know.
We always shopped together. for 10 years. there aren’t any problems with running into friends because we were joined at the hip and WE had no friends… so when he left, there was no one to talk to or worry about asking me questions… 4 years later it is the same way. Alone with no one to talk to and still grieving. Grocery stores are easy… it’s the meal planning that sucks.
Grocery shopping is still quite a stumbling block for me. Since losing our son to suicide 3 years ago ( which is hard to write, let alone accept) my husband and I go to a neighboring town. It’s just easier for everyone that way. I have become braver at going in smaller stores in my town and such which still can present surprises. Oh yes! But….. grocery shopping. Ugh! Never know what or who will greet you in the next aisle. Since we both have lived in the same town all our lives, a trip to the local grocery store can present us with sometimes 5-10 people we know. I think maybe it is the feeling of being trapped in the lengthy aisles, like a wounded animal. No where to run. I have to say that we don’t get very many questions as we mostly get the “look” and then a very awkward turn and quick getaway and hope we didn’t see them. That has actually hurt worse. I can tell who hasn’t heard about what happened. They’re the poor souls who actually acknowledge us and then innocently ask how our son is. I feel so bad for them. We truly don’t know how to acknowledge these things. It has made me painfully aware of how much we need to talk about grief and grieving. Yes, I certainly identify with the passage in A Grief Observed. I knew I wasn’t the only one but this has been cathartic for me. Thank you all for sharing.
Thank you Megan. I so appreciate your honest voice on these subjects.
He enjoyed the activity of the grocery store..keeping his mind busy and out of the cancer arena ..he got so bald.weak.lost his muscles..no more grocery store but a wheel chair. Hospice and passionate pleas to get him out of that bed..he dies reluctantly..I see a bald.frail man rolling through the freezer aisle at the publix grocery and know my Bob would be delighted to be there…I bawl in the aisle..it’s been 4 and a half years
it will be two years in a few weeks..and time has smoothed the edges..and I can whistle again and go to church without weeping…
Barely two months into this world of grief. Thank you for bringing up this subject of shopping. I needed it so badly. I still shop at the same places since I am caring for my elderly father with dementia. We live in a rural area outside of a major city, so my choices are limited. My late husband loved ice-cream. I have to avoid that section of the store now. Since we were new to the area, I don’t have friends I run into. I don’t have friends or family here. Just a few supportive neighbors. But, this article was an eye opener. I couldn’t figure out why shopping was something I really hated to do recently. Now I know. My lost loved one was a shopaholic which adds fuel to the fire. Mostly, I miss buying him ice-cream. He said that his first wife never bought him ice-cream. It was an act of love from me to him that he so appreciated. Thank-you for sharing this topic.
Well, I never thought I would be in the “grocery store is hell” club. But, I must say that reading this post by you Megan made my day! I thought I was the only griever out there who found grocery shopping so heart wrenching. The love of my life (both my spouse and I have the same name of Joan) died about 3 months ago and still my most dreaded thing to do (eating dinner may be second) is go to the grocery store. I have gotten to the point that I don’t care if I cry the whole time I am shopping. I don’t care what other’s think. I have to be honest with the pain. My spouse ate a navel orange everyday, so for over 13 years I was always on the lookout for good looking navel oranges. One day recently, as soon as I entered the produce section (my first stop after entering the store), I saw a huge mountain of oranges and I immediately burst into tears. It was as if that bright orange was shouting at me, “Joan is dead!” So I continued to quickly finish my shopping while tears poured down my face – seems to be my new normal for now.
Omg! The grocery store. The first most difficult passage through the door of fog…into the real world. Thank goodness my husband knew enough to come with me that first time. Unbearable. Unable to look at the foods on the shelf. Ran down the aisles with proverbial blinders on trying to avoid any morsel of food that our son would have wanted that day. It got a bit easier after the first 6 – 8 months. Avoid the one lowest to home. Claustrophobic, small spaces with too many yuppie shoppers clogging every inch of space…
Going to the grocery store was confusing because I didn’t know what to buy anymore and I did not know this person I was in my grief never mind how to feed her. The bittersweet familiarity of the grocery store we’d shopped at was comforting in a strange way. I wasted a lot of food over those first months into the first year and a half or so. I’d buy stuff then pack it home, put it away, then not want to deal with food prep. I missed his bringing home groceries to make a special meal. He loved to eat. I could care less. I eat because I have to eat. But we loved eating together. I could not bear to throw out some of his foods either. The jar in the fridge that used to have pickles in it that he added pickling spices to then his hard boiled eggs (gawd they stunk) I finally tossed recently (just passed 3 years). Every time I see pickles in the store, I think of those stinky eggs. I think of him every time I go shopping. And Costco is full of his memories…he loved cruising around that huge warehouse.
And I remember seeing an acquaintance that made eye contact and did an abrupt turn around and disappearing act Gives you an added slap
I really enjoyed your article. I look back and remember the reactions I witnessed in the grocery store: the avoidance, the stares, and the pity. You’re right that getting out of bed is a gigantic accomplishment. It was so hard to think clearly– even with a written shopping list. A lot of people gave me pitiful looks and I took it as a sign that there were sympathetic and kind humans out there. Thank you for the honest look at grief and the realistic events that usually follow the painful loss. I felt a sense of solidarity with those who have experienced interruptions in their lives.
The grocery store used to haunt me. I’d go down every aisle remembering the many times we shopped together there. “Remember the funny crack he made about the jicama? Remember the argument about what kind of coffee to buy? Remember how his eyes would light up if they had coconut cream pie? Remember how he could never find the natural peanut butter? Remember….” Halfway through the store tears would start running down my face, and I would leave, head down so that no one would see.
Hard aground five steps into Safeway…
Now shopping for one.
My daughter Aurora was only a tender 22 weeks old when a tragic accident took life. I was religious with my routine. Every Wednesday morning after dropping off her brother to preschool and before her nap we would go grocery shopping. Wednesday was grocery shopping day. We look very close enough that I would often bike rowing her in the trailer behind my bike. What a thrill mommy and Aurora time. The last picture I have of her legs dangling through the cart holes her platinum blonde ringlets in two pig tails and she was clasping a treat I had let her pick. That was it. She would be dead 12 hours later. It will be 9 months tomorrow that she died. I haven’t returned to that grocery store, or ridden my bike, nothing is nor will it ever be “normal routine again” the grocery store is four houses away in walking distance. I pay a delivery charge now and have them shoot through online ordering now. I don’t shop on Wednesday’s any more. My groceries come in Tuesday’s now, a stranger brings them to my door. I do t go to grocery stores anymore. I can’t. Without her…that was our mommy and Aurora time going from aisle to aisle running into friends complaining about laundry piles and running noses. The grocery store is for normal people. I’m not invited anymore and my companion, my sweet little helper is dead. I hate the grocery store.
After my daughter died, I tried grocery shopping a few times, and each was worse than the last. One of the songs we played at her memorial services would come over the sound system, I would see her favourite foods, or someone I didn’t want to talk to. Tears were inevitable. I felt like a criminal, walking head down, scoping out the aisles before I walked down them. And then having to make small talk with the cashier… I just couldn’t. Thankfully my husband took over. I’m in charge of the dishes now.
We have all become unwilling members of this club. These stories only solidify my thought that “Grief Towns” need to be established. A place where we can live (I use that term loosely sometimes) and be a part of a community without the “outsiders” unhelpful looks, actions, comments, avoidances, reactions, etc., because they don’t have a clue how this journey of grief requires a whole different set of navigational skills (yet to be established) and can make the routine day-to-day stuff so utterly heartbreaking and energy draining that it’s amazing we get up every morning to try and do it again. (The reflections written here made me think of the first time grocery shopping after my 31-year-old son’s death. I really wanted ice cream but couldn’t find anything that sounded good. Then the light bulb went on. I already knew I was an emotional eater, but it was in that moment when I realized there wasn’t a special ice cream to take my pain away.) It’s coming up on two years, which of course seems like forever. I’ve cried at least once every day – some more tears than others. As hard as our stories may be hard to share sometimes, the honesty will hopefully give at least one “insider” person the thought that they are not alone. They are not crazy. Someone else feels like they do. May we all receive the love, support, and hugs we so rightfully deserve.
The shop itself wasn’t so much the issue and I very seldom met people I knew but the big thing for me was I and we would spend time choosing fresh produce for me to cook into lovely dinners either for us as a couple or for invited friends and family. Suddenly I wasn’t cooking for anyone else; I didn’t have the energy or inclination to cook properly for me let alone inviting people that I would need to cook for. Trying to buy food became a frustration, enough to have me in tears and depressed because having to make choices on my own, picking things that were ready-made because it would be ready in 10 mins before I lost my appetite was and still is a never ending reminder that my partner is gone.
For the first time in 6 & half years I invited family for Christmas dinner, properly done and actually felt good about cooking it. Maybe I’ve turned a small corner?
Oh my gosh this is so me! I shop at 11pm to avoid everyone. The first time after my daughter passed away I saw her occupational therapist. She was with her little daughter & started crying on me saying how sad she was. I ended up consoling her because I have always been that way & I liked the woman as she’d been good getting help in the home for us previously. I’ve never been back to that supermarket & it’s on my doorstep! Now I travel out of town and go at night. It’s just easier this way..
A resounding yes, grocery stores were so hard in the early months and years after our infant son died. But not so much for the reasons you describe, in my case the “trigger” that got to me the most was watching parents who snapped, yelled, or were otherwise unkind to their children in the grocery store. I really felt like my senses were on hyperalert for this, and it was ever-present. I felt angry and sad all at once, and I never expressed the anger toward these parents, but I would sometimes have to leave. I just couldn’t stand hearing it.
I had this same “trigger” reaction at the YMCA, where our older son was taking swimming lessons and also playing on a basketball team for little 2nd graders. If I heard another parent being mean to their child, it was all I could do to hold back. In fact, at the Y, I did speak up a few times. I would just tell them that my son died and that it upset me a lot to hear them being mean to their child. One mother told me to mind my own business; another just walked away without saying a word. Our son died 22 years ago, and I have certainly evolved in my grief journey and as a person, but how well I remember those difficult experiences.
I don’t know that grocery stores were harder than any other public place. But I do remember standing I. Line with the Sunday paper and coffee and cream saying over and over to myself “my husbands obituary is in this paper.” Surreal.
This is all so true. I don’t feel I am a total freak after reading it, just a heart broken widow wishing I was dead.
I thought my grocery store phobia after my husbands death 5 months ago was just me going crazy. The store I always shopped at went out of business while he was on home hospice. In the middle of the worst time of my life I had to find a new store, further away, with aisles I could not comprehend. The shoppers looked like aliens and I felt intense physical & mental pain while pushing that cart. I got through it by being the crazy lady talking to herself. I would softly tell myself ‘you can do it’ over and over while other shoppers looked away. I didn’t care. It is a little easier now, but I still cannot enter the big box stores he and I went to together. We were married 43 years. He was wonderful.
Its funny, Ive often heard it said that friends and neighbours cross the street to avoid grieving people- I honestly wish they would. You nailed it in this article, but its not their fault, the friends, neighbours and aquaintances have all heard the same thing and are determined to show they care, even if they dont relish it. There are “tiers of grief”, and those who have inhabited the same, or a higher tier are far less likely to offer advice
I was at the grocery store when my perfectly fine-when-I-left husband dropped dead of a lights out heart attack in the yard and I came home, with a trunk full of food we both loved to eat, to find him there. I will never look at grocery shopping the same again. Ever!
i am so sorry…..hugs
I lost Butch in April of this year to covid-19 after 47 years together (37 married). It has been worse than awful. They took him away in an ambulance after being sick for a few days, and I was so scared, but hopeful that he would be in a place that could help him fight coronavirus. A few days later he passed, gone, just never saw him again, except for an ipad view of him by his nurses while he died (wish they hadn’t done that). We could not touch him, see him, wake or bury him. He was my world, our children are now grown it we had just begun “our time” and we had so many plans and so much fun and now it’s just all gone. I too hate to be in the grocery stores, so many things I would buy for him or us, just make me so sad. The other day I was in Lowes, and found myself falling apart trying to buy a new garbage can! All of a sudden he was everywhere in that store and nowhere all at the same time. I’m taking baby steps, mostly avoid casual neighbors and acquaintances and sometimes even friends, they mean well but….
I did not know anyone at the store I shopped at. But the pain of shopping for me was not only from exhaustion. My husband loved shopping with me on the weekends to pick the food for cooking together and making the best meals of the week. And I always shopped for my mom too. I could not help but cry when I saw things I knew they would love. Plus I now had to shop just for myself. It has taken me 5 years to not over shop, and figure out how I what is easy and healthy and somewhat fun.
I do most of my shopping at Trader Joe’s It’s very close, not too big, and often the music they pipe in gets me bopping as I shop. One day, however, a song just hit me to the core. I could barely hold back the tears. I needed to cover my ears and hum, but it is hard to hold onto the cart that way, I contemplated leaving, but I didn’t need much and couldn’t bear having to return later. I chose to call my sister. Without too much explanation from me, she took the cue and rambled on about random things keeping me distracted and blocking out the sound as I grabbed the few items I needed. Thank goodness for the “call a friend “ option.
I wear sunnies or pretend to talk on the phone, or shop super early or super late. Anger simmers under the surface most of the time. A good(?!?) friend said to me recently, is everything OK, I noticed you haven’t been yourself lately. (Cue enraged volcano build up inside!!) I replied oh that’s probably because my Mum died. (DUH!!!!!!!)
Is it sad that this article made me happy? I thought I was the only one to nearly lose it in the grocery store numerous times over the last 5 years.
Megan—-( and followers). I’m looking for some concrete suggestions on how to start a conversation with a newly bereaved. Good friends, just casual friends, and even people you barely know. Conversations to let them know that you’re open to listen, but don’t want to intrude. Thanks
Grocery shopping was an activity I didn’t realize would be so hard/draining to do after my loss. Since I had to shop for a lot of dietary restrictions foods, those habits took a while to break. Out of habit I would.go down the Isles I no longer needed to go down. I would put off going grocery shopping until I absolutely needed to go.
My son has been gone just a year now. Just reading this makes my heart/chest hurt.
Shopping in most places is still hard.
I see what my son likes/did like. A shirt or whatever that I know would look great on him.
Only one person in a store encounter got it right when he asked how I was doing. He said “your fuxked up” I said you got it.
He was my sons best friend and knew how lost and hurt I was.
I’ve had to tell my sister to back off and block her number for horrible things she has said. “Get over it, move on etc.”
It isn’t that easy and never will be.
I am raising my sons little boy as his mom also died in the car accident. This is so hard and so many people say “at least you have your grandson a piece of your son.”
This is one of the worst things to say. No one can replace my son and no one ever will.
I love my grandson and wouldn’t want him anywhere else. I promised my son I would take care of him for the rest of my days.
Yet I have a tremendous amount of guilt when I’m enjoying a happy moment a victory when he’s pee’d in the potty or whatever. Because my son so loved being a daddy and he’s missing it all. This is so hard for me not to feel like this and keeping my sad feelings at times out of my grandsons view.
So many people have stopped talking or calling also. Not just cause of my grieving also because my conversations revolve around my grandson this is my daily life.
I lost my job with covid and for now I am staying home to take care of my grandson.
Days can be so hard and people can be very hurtful. Some of them truly don’t know they are. I literally tell people it’s ok you don’t have to know what to say because I can see the sympathy in their face.
I have your book “It’s ok to not be ok” haven’t read it all yet I find it hard to just have me time and try and be ok.
It’s not so much the shopping for me as it is the music that is playing.
most people are thoughtful and caring when one is losing a mate of 46 years. I have a relative who asked me “now that you having your house cleaned once a week and someone cooking the salt and sugar free food…what do you do with your time. I felt anger go through me that someone would ask an ignorant and insensitive question. I answered politely but somberly “I care for my husband.” A week later after more night and day caring she repeated the question…this time I blew up and we have been estranged for several years…I have set boundaries. I am aware this does not pertain to the shopping experience.
Grocery shopping was something we enjoyed doing together. I loved to go grocery shopping with him. It was a silly little thing, but it ticled me to watch this big guy, checking labels, and asking me if I wanted one thing or another. He had a ritual, of getting a cart, cleaning it, and getting too much hand sanitizer for himself, and then slapping the excess on my hands. My first trip without him, I walked into the store, grabbed a cart, and immediately broke down in tears. Probably seems silly, but I miss the little things, so much.
Grocery store. It will soon be 22 years since we lost our 17 year old daughter in a car/deer accident. I made a stop at the grocery store the day after her funeral and was totally unprepared for the difficulty that simple act would bring with it. Yes, I ran into a friend, I held up my arm to stop the “how are you?” question, simply explained, “I barely have it together, please let me go and get out of here.” He did. BUT, by time I got to the check out I was sobbing deeply,—like I couldn’t breathe. After paying the check out person said good bye and “have a nice day”!!!! I remember wondering what is that, will I ever have one of those again?? BUT, you do heal, God is still God, He is still good, and yes, I have had many good days. He is the God who heals the brokenhearted.
I lost my wife in a pedestrian/ truck accident two months ago. She did all the shopping because I hated going. I now wish that I had paid more attention to how and what she bought. I think I will start ordering from one of the on-line meal services. She was an excellent cook that made delicious healthy meals. I am lost without her and now have to survive without her.
I have avoided the grocery store almost completely. My son took up shopping and cooking. Every day after work was the what do you want for dinner? text. And if my husband cooked he would ask what time do you want to eat? And he would wait and eat with me. Every recipe we made together is painful. When I see his favorite hard to find things I think oh he’d be so happy. When I do have to go I make it fast or if I have more to get I go to a different store.
I went with family to a favorite holiday ornament store last weekend where we always picked out our annual ornament and had it personalized. I took one look at the huge display and lost it. I couldn’t even. Luckily my son and granddaughter were right there and escorted me outside to breathe. Unbearable.
I lost my husband 2 years ago and find I just cannot eat on my own at all.we both dined together so I find eating out much better with the company .
OMG I thought I was the only one that thought the grocery store was so painful. i never would have thought the grocery store would be so painful. I don’t seem to run into people, he was such a fussy eater I have realized that I just grocery shopped for him and I just ate what he wanted. Then trying to keep him eating I would get things that he loved, ice cream, not flavors that I liked. I just dumped the remainder out int he sink this morning and cried, I am still crying. Reaching for things at the grocery store that he wanted but not my favorite. It has been so hard.
I thought it was just me, it does give me some relief it is not just me. Lost my husband three weeks ago today, took care of him at home for five months. Lost him to cancer way to young, he was 67. We were married 38 years. I miss him so much.
My daughter had to be gluten free from when she was 5. I spent 16 years sourcing out gluten free things in the grocery store so you can imagine I spent a lot of time every time I went just to read all the ingredients in any new items I found that she might like. She passed away in 2020 at the age of 21. I can’t go into any grocery without seeing all the things I used to buy or got excited about because I’d found something new for her to try. It’s bad enough when people you know ask questions but when it’s complete strangers asking because they see you’re upset… I simply don’t go into grocery stores anymore. My husband does a lot of the shopping now because it’s easier for him and we also have family members who will pick up our on line orders. It’s been over a year and a half since she’s been gone and I can’t imagine ever walking into a grocery store and being ok.
Well, am crying as I write this. I found my husband dead unexpectedly 4 months ago. This is so hard. Such a terrible struggle. Appreciate all those who have shared, I thought I was the only one who hates going to the grocery store. Feel so lonesome and sad without him. Shopping was an adventure in trying to find a bargain and something we would both like. I have celiac disease and he threw himself into shopping for things he thought I would like and could eat. Live in a small town and everybody knew him, everywhere I go I encounter people who knew and liked him. People try to be kind (mostly) but I avoid shopping until the frig is empty so won’t have to explain how much I am struggling or be untruthful. He was my best friend and miss him so much!
He died 6 weeks before I was set to retire, we had so many plans once we had more time together. I feel robbed.
My husband was a merchandiser for the dairy company that services Wal-Mart in our state. He would drive from Wal-Mart to Wal-Mart making sure dairy was stocked and available. It was a pretty awesome job. I could ride with him whenever possible and we would try new restaurants in the different cities we would visit. I will give me this platitude: we were living life to the fullest and loving each other profoundly every day. Also consequently we would grocery shop together at his last stop closest to home. He passed traumatically in front me without warning. 11 minutes and 34 seconds of cpr before paredics arrived. I knew he was gone, but I couldn’t stop. Now onto grocery shopping. I attempted a trip to Wal-Mart probably a month after. I brought a friend or rather she brought me. When I got to the dairy section I almost collapsed. Brenda immediately saw my distress and rushed me back to the car hyperventilating. And this became another 1st stage day for me. Stage 1 of grief for me is: breathe just breathe. I’m going on my 2nd attempt to grocery shop today. It’s day 110. I did and do have many who will take this task off my hands as they do understand its significance in my grief. I will be bringing my friend. I will never go to Wal-Mart again. I will be shopping elsewhere. Wish me luck! Since your wishes brought me lots of grocery shoppers I expect things to go well (whatever that means now). Thanks Megan!
It’s definitely not seeing people that bothers me, it’s seeing all the things on the shelves that remind me of my daughter or my husband. I lost my daughter in February 2019 and my husband in December 2020. My first grocery store visit after losing my daughter, I began sobbing looking at the ready to bake cookies. She loved to bake and had taken that over from me several years earlier. This past Christmas, 2021, was the first time I could bring myself to bake again. With my husband, we were married almost 37 years and together 41. There wasn’t a grocery store visit that I wasn’t getting something for him. So hard but I know they’re together in heaven.
I do Instacart that delivers to my home. I can’t go to the stores we shopped at together. My husband loved to cook & he knew everyone in the county so when we shopped it was a long social trip too! He died with COVID pneumonia on Jan 27, 2021. I lost 50 lbs in the first 6 months because I just couldn’t eat, sleep or function much at all. It was such a shock. It’s been 16 months & sometimes it’s worse now because reality has set in. I miss him so much! Every store has triggers because we always shopped together.
It’s not so much the grocery store, things like opening the door to her spice cabinet & seeing dozens of spices I have no idea how to use except cinnamon, salt & pepper. All the food for preparing meals in our cupboard that I don’t know what to do with. She was such a great cook, it’s sad to see all that stuff sit or go to waste.
So refreshing to read. Every trip to any of the 3 chain grocery stores near me remind me my estranged son worked in them, during adolescence and college and some years beyond. I’m anxious about running into his friends, who also avoid and blame me on the basis of what my son and his wife have told them.
And anywhere near the pet aisles or pet supply stores, I’m painfully reminded of the recent loss of my Havapoo Cody, who was my truest companion through the loss of my son, his wife, and my grandchildren.