Cycles

I am struck by the cycle of life reflected in seasonal changes and how this mirrors my life. This week marked the winter solstice when following the longest night, light begins to return. Increasing days of darkness transform into increasing days of light, providing hope as we move toward another cycle in our life. On December 17, 2008 I wrote:

I feel such sadness that Glen’s life is the way it is...so I go on with my life, doing what I need to do for myself to stay healthy, physically and mentally and spiritually

I knew that Glen’s life was ending and I struggled with the knowledge I would live. A year later, on December 19, 2009, as the reality of trying to live and the connection with the cycle of seasonal change approached, I wrote:

Creating a life without the love of my life is a difficult process - but something that I need to do if I am to find some fulfillment in living.

This year I continue to struggle with creating a way to live. The deep pain from grief ebbs but is never quite absent. Uncertainty remains ever present. I think about the lines from a poem my sister sent to me and I am hopeful:

The Thing Is - by Ellen Bass

http://www.elabs7.com/c.html?rtr=on&s=fj6,nhgr,dv,1lic,mb9j,9qya,zur

to love life, to love it even

when you have no stomach for it

and everything you've held dear

crumbles like burnt paper in your hands,

your throat filled with the silt of it.

When grief sits with you, its tropical heat

thickening the air, heavy as water

more fit for gills than lungs;

when grief weights you like your own flesh

only more of it, an obesity of grief,

you think, How can a body withstand this?

Then you hold life like a face

between your palms, a plain face,

no charming smile, no violet eyes,

and you say, yes, I will take you

I will love you, again.

I must believe that as the seasonal cycle changes, and moves toward increasing light, I too, will hold life like a face and again embrace life.

Giveaway Ceremonies

As the end of the year approaches, it is marked by ceremonies of gift giving and gratitude. Last year, the first season of giving without Glen, I purposely included his spirit in gifting. On December 13, 2009 I wrote:

Music was a gift Glen gave to me and I wanted to share this with others.

I spent some time thinking about how to include gifts from Glen to our family. I wanted these gifts to inspire memories of Glen, and gratitude for his life. I continued in my journal:

My nephews’ two boys are musical...I sent them each a Stevie Ray Vaughn CD (from Glen’s collection) because Glen thought he was one of the great guitar players of our musical time...I wanted them to listen and learn and in this way pass along some of Glen’s passion for music.

I sent each of my two nephews a Grateful Dead CD since I knew they both had followed the group during their own youth. I wrote:

Even if they already had copies of the CDs it wouldn’t matter as these were gifts from Glen...

As it turned out, one of the CDs was my older nephews favorite which he had lost several years earlier - much gratitude flowed from this gift. I sent a Willie Nelson CD to Glen’s dad, hoping he had a CD player in his truck - which he did. I sent Glen’s brother a photo of Glen flying in his hang-glider. I wrote:

Glen was joyful when he flew - he was free in a way he could never find “on the ground”...

I sent personal items like a heavy scarf to our nephew in Vermont, and created a special beaded necklace for Glen’s mom, with a silver heart shaped locket containing a picture of her as a young woman and a picture of Glen as a teen. I wrote:

My wish is that this will bring (his mother) joy - good memories of her Glen growing up.

This year, the second giveaway season since Glen’s death, I struggle with the emptiness of having no gifts to send from Glen, nothing left to give, nothing left to receive.

Letting Go

When our loved one has died - there are things that we inevitably let go. For me it began slowly - with physical things that had belonged to Glen. Most of his clothes were the first things to be passed on to others. On June 21, 2009 I wrote:

Last weekend was three months since Glen’s death...I cleaned out Glen’s dresser and gave some of his clothes away...

Letting go of Glen’s clothes was easier than some other letting go items.

The most difficult thing was when (my friend and her family) came over and took Glen’s records and turntable...listening to records and singing along - that was a big part of what we did together...

As time has passed, I have been able to let go of other items belonging to Glen. Personal items - shoe inserts, glasses - were some of the last things to go. And I must confess, I continue to hold onto a few items - his shoes, his ties - for some unknown reason I can’t seem to let go.

The non-physical things are harder to let go. On May 14, 2010 I wrote:

I recognize my current wave of sadness concerns my loss of his total love and support ... now that I don’t have his unconditional support I can become filled with doubt and uncertainty, lost in the world along...

This realization has led me down the path of letting go of my reliance on Glen’s steady support and love for me. This is the most difficult letting go - it means Glen is dead, and I must find a way to make a life for myself without him.

Marking Time

Early in my process of facing the end of Glen’s life involved dealing with the idea of marking time. On January 22, 2009, I wrote:

Time - passing, life passing or time until, countdown to something in the future. So many ways to mark time - seasons come and go, cycles of life; phases of the moon, ebbing and flowing; calendar time, days in a month, a year; clocks ticking off minutes, hours... time left to live, time until the end - not knowing how to mark time.

This was written approximately a year after Glen’s diagnosis and less than two months before he would be dead. After Glen died, there was a shift in how I marked time; on April 9, 2009 I wrote:

Time for me now begins with Glen’s death - how many days, weeks, etc. since he has been gone...now I think about what was occurring on this date a month ago...on March 9 Elaine left to go home telling Glen she would see him in the stars. It would be 5 days before Glen would be dead.

During the first year following Glen’s death, I marked time in terms of “First Events” - as I moved through the world without Glen. On May 19, 2009 I wrote:

Last week was a hard one. Wednesday May 14 marked two months since Glen’s death...and on Sunday May 17 was my birth day...very difficult, this first birth day without him.

Other days marking time during that first year were July 16, our wedding anniversary, the Holidays - Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Years; and his birthday - January 5. Each month on the 14th, I marked another month since his death. I also thought about what had occurred the previous year during these times. On October 11, 2009 I wrote:

I think about this time last year when Glen’s pain began to take control over his life, the pain relief drugs clouded his mind. This was the beginning of the long, dark decline into the final days of our life together.

During the following months I was preoccupied with thoughts about how Glen suffered during the final months of his life. It was a time when I felt tremendous guilt about his pain. On January 24, 2010 I wrote:

This is a difficult time for me as I remember how much he suffered and how little I was able to help him...I could not imagine that a year later I would feel the pain of losing him do deeply.

One year following Glen’s death began another way of marking time; I was able to begin to imagine a time when I would not carry the guilt and grief of his death. On March 14, 2010 I wrote:

I am sad, but not filled with the pain of grief that was with me for so long...I will always keep him in my heart - but I will find a way to live without him.

This second year since Glen died I have experienced less pain from my grief. On August 24, 2010 I wrote:

Time marches on - routines develop and replace old patterns...I believe now that a life without my love, Glen, is not only possible but will be fulfilling.

First Events

As the Holiday Season approaches, I have been thinking about all of the first events that we face after our loved one has died. Last year I faced the first Thanksgiving. On November 25, 2009 the day before Thanksgiving, I wrote:

It is rare that you get to know something is “the last time” it will occur. Certainly last year I knew there was the possibility that it would be Glen’s final Thanksgiving - but it was nothing I truly acknowledged...

The next day, November 26, 2009, I wrote:

Thanksgiving - the first one without Glen - a tough day to get through...

I cooked a traditional meal and was mindful of all the various stages of food preparation that I did. Yet there was a lot of empty space throughout the day. I needed to find a way to fill this time. I wrote:

During the time I spent preparing the feast, I played music - this filled the emptiness in the house because Glen was not here...I filled the space with the music we shared...

The music I chose to play had special meaning in terms of our relationship. I was missing Glen’s presence and wanted to remember him. I wrote:

I played the Eric Clapton album with the song...You Look Wonderful Tonight...that played when Glen and I walked down the aisle...I remember that Glen selected this song and it occurs to me that the words and story are how he felt about us - and my heart aches with the loss of our story...

One piece of music I did not play was Arlo Guthrie’s Alice’s Restaurant. Glen and I always listened to this song on Thanksgiving. I think this year I will play it. The second time through these events is less difficult.

Time & Change

It is interesting that I did not write anything in my journal during the month of November 2008 which marked Glen’s last Thanksgiving. Perhaps it was because in my heart I knew it would be Glen’s and my last turkey day. The following year on November 13, 2009 I wrote:

Tomorrow will mark 8-months since Glen’s death. I have been struggling with a sense of hopelessness I assume is part of a state of deep depression. I am trying very hard to figure out how to deal with and overcome it.

During this time I started a list of tasks and activities to fill my time. Ordinary tasks like cleaning out closets and writing. As the holiday approached, I once again needed to do - to just stay busy. I began addressing the issue of the rest of my life. On Thanksgiving day November 26, 2009 I wrote:

During the time I spent preparing the feast, I played music...there are still songs that are too meaningful in terms of our relationship over the years that I do cry when I listen and sing along...I continue playing and listening to the music, remembering our life together and wondering what the future will bring. Whatever happens, I will “live it all through...”

Now, twenty months after Glen’s death, I still feel the need to stay busy. My son and I have a major project - we are remodeling our bathroom. We have chosen blue and green colors - Glen’s favorite colors - and this will keep us doing, as the holiday nears. I still have days when my heart is breaking, but I no longer feel helpless or hopeless about the future. I know that I have chosen to live.

Living Gifts

Living gifts - these are given to us through the experiences we shared with our loved one and that we can use to find a way to live beyond our loss. On May 6, 2009 I wrote:

I am still very sad because I feel such an empty space in my life without him; he was the love of my life and I will always carry him in my heart. But he also left me with many gifts...

One of the gifts Glen gave to me throughout our thirty three years together was his appreciation for music. He really loved listening to music. On June 21, 2009 I wrote:

Music was one of Glen’s passions - a place he could go and just enjoy the sounds. We had little games we played - who’s the artist singing - what’s the name of the band - what’s the name of the album the song is from...

Autumn of 2009 marked a turning point in my grieving - I began listening to the music Glen and I had shared. I listened to Dark Side of the Moon, and for the first time appreciated the sound that was Glen’s passion for music. On November 10, 2009 I wrote:

Listening to the CD’s we both listened to through the years does helps me have a “good cry” and to feel the loss and grief. I sing the songs we sang together, and will often play the CD twice so I can sing without the intense sadness that often accompanies my first listening of the song...I think that if I listen to the music Glen and I shared I can move past the grief...I know that it will be a very long time before I can move beyond my sadness...but this is a place to begin.

Glen’s gift to me of music helps me get through the days, weeks, months since my love died; one of the many gifts I carry with me on my journey of life without Glen.

Comfort

Coming home to die is what brings comfort to those we love who are facing the end of their time in this physical reality. Before my father died on December 21, 1983 all he wanted to do was to come home. Sadly he died alone in a hospital room during the early hours of the morning. I vowed that no one I loved would leave this world alone.

On March 3, 2009 I write:

Glen does not want to go back into the hospital. Brenda and I agree we will take care of him at home. Dr. M comes late in the afternoon...and recommends a drug that is a nerve block...No more talk of hospitalization for Glen. Brenda and I persuade Glen to get into the hospital bed...We take turns sitting up with him...

Glen died eleven days later, surrounded by his family.

Glen’s mother, Barbara, came home from the hospital on October 11. She was happy, but slipped toward death quickly. Today, October 20, 2010 (10-20-2010!) she died surrounded by those who loved her. Her granddaughter, wrote on her Facebook page:

Rest now sweet Nana...I held ur hand while you left this world...I know you will take mine when my time comes. I miss you already...

Barbara’s family will disburse, returning to their own homes to grieve and mourn. I plant 13 purple tulips that I will watch bloom in the spring, and honor her memory. I say these words:

Fly high - let your spirit soar up to your loved ones who have gone before you. You are free. You are at peace.

Comfort for us left behind is not as easy as coming home. Comfort is in finding a way to live.

Grief Triggers

The grief literature suggests that following the loss of a loved one our grief can be triggered by situations, cycles, anniversaries, among other things. But you don’t always know when these grief triggers will happen.

A couple of weeks ago, my niece posted photos of Glen’s mom on her facebook page - and I was overcome with intense sadness. The image spoke to me of the look of the physical havoc on the body due to cancer. Wham - grief trigger!

Last weekend I attended a wedding - during the ceremony as the happy couple exchanged their vows I was suddenly overcome with sadness. On 10-11-2010 I wrote:

As I listened to them repeat their vows, I felt my heart slowly rip apart. I floated back to the sunny day in July 1989 when Glen and I pledged our love until death do us part. Tears welled up in my eyes and came tumbling down my cheeks. The void in my life left by the loss of my dear Glen passed over me like a dark shadow.

Wham - grief trigger!

Since the beginning of October I have felt this creeping sadness engulf me. I didn’t want another Wham of crushing grief. I looked back over my journal entries and found the source of this impending sense of loss. On 10-17-08 I wrote:

It always strikes me the way you can tell when someone has news for you that is not great... Doctor K said the tumor was a bit larger, and there were two small spots, very small spots, that were new in his left lung... When Doctor K left the room, Glen turned to me and for the first time said, “I guess it’s not about curing it, but about how long we can keep it at bay”...

This was the first time that what I had know since the initial diagnosis in January that Glen’s death would be the final outcome, was acknowledged by him.

Today, no Wham of grief, just a recognition of the source for my sadness. Anticipating when a grief trigger is coming helps ease the pain.

Self Care

A constant and consistent theme concerning grief is the idea of self care. Hospice materials stress the need for caretakers to actively take care of themselves as well as the dying loved one. Self care is difficult when you are wrapped up in the needs of the one you love. I was encouraged by a friend to spend a few days alone at the coast. On July 30, 2008 I wrote:

The more I thought about being away by myself, the more the idea of self care emerged.

I was going to the coast, because I was exhausted from the struggle of watching helplessly as Glen’s strength drained away during three cycles of chemotherapy. I took things with me to pamper myself both physically and spiritually. When I arrived at the coast, the sun was shining and I decided to talk a walk along the beach. I wrote:

I walked south on the road along the coast...I felt as if I was walking like a very old woman...I wondered if this was how the rest of my life would play itself out - a lonely old woman, alone on the beach.

I was desperately in need of some self care. Later, I wrapped myself up in a blanket, took my dinner with me and sat on the balcony watching the sun sink into the ocean. When it was dark I went inside, smeared on my facial mask, poured bath salts and drew a hot bath, lit my candle, poured a glass of wine, and sank into the tub. I wrote:

I felt the tension in my body slowly dissolve away. I was aware that I had turned a corner but was not clear about where I was now headed...

As I was preparing to return home, I felt my strength returning. I wrote:

I truly believe the past two days have revealed to me the things I need (in order) to carry on, to live my life with Glen to the fullest, and if the time comes when I must face living without the love of my life, I will get through that loss.

Taking care of ourself is important; it gives us the strength to live.

Crazy Grief

I began thinking about Crazy Grief in August of this year. All of the information from almost every source tells us that we are not going crazy when we grieve the loss of a loved one. I believe this is meant to help grievers but I think it is a deception. On August 9, 2010 I wrote:

Not that grief is crazy, but that grief makes you crazy. When the physical pain of losing the love of my life hit, so did crazy grief. My cognitive abilities just went away...

The only place I found partial corroboration for crazy grief was at a website by H. Norman Wright http://hnormanwright.com/ in an article “The Crazy Feelings of Grief.” He writes:

“The “crazy” feelings of grief are actually a sane response to grief...examples are all symptoms of normal grief...distorted thinking patterns, “crazy” and irrational thoughts, fearful thoughts...”

However, even his acknowledgment of “Crazy Grief” falls short of the truth - you are crazy. These are also symptoms of being crazy. As I began to explore the idea of crazy grief I looked back through my journal entries and in August 2010 I wrote:

I remember being shocked - totally unaware of the poor level of my job performance (in June 2009). In fact, when someone said to me something like, “it didn’t come as a surprise to you did it?” (referring to my dismal job performance evaluation) I remember thinking, well, yes as a matter of fact I am surprised...

I was totally unaware of the level of my own distorted thinking. Crazy grief, we don’t even realize we are crazy. I think about the words in a Paul Simon song, “losing love is like a window in your heart; everybody sees your torn apart...” With crazy grief everyone but you sees that you are crazy.

Magical Thinking

Magical thinking is what we do when we cannot accept the finality of death.

On January 1, 2009 I wrote this when Glen was suffering horrific pain due to the cancer that had metastasized into his spine:

I believe with all my heart...that the body can heal itself - even from a disease as horrific as cancer..

On February 14, 2009 I wrote of the hope for prolonging life:

Valentines day - and small hope flows from my heart. Glen will begin a new round of chemotherapy...We are looking at treatments every three weeks for six cycles - a total of 18 weeks. This will bring us into June...

Glen would be dead in 28 days. Five months later, on August 23, 2009 I wrote:

This past week was one of revelation...Mike bought me a balloon for my birthday...May 17...at first I imagined that Glen's spirit in the balloon was standing guard over in the corner...on sentry duty...the balloon would rotate to expose the message “Happy Birthday”...I thought, “Glen’s spirit is saying hello to me...”I’d greet the balloon and it comforted me as I approached another lonely day...I wondered how long Glen’s spirit could keep the balloon afloat...On August 19...the balloon could no longer float...the balloon embodied with Glen’s spirit (had) kept floating into my vision and into my heart...Since the balloon has gone, I have tried to come to grips with how to live...

Magical thinking keeps our heart and spirit alive until we can begin to find a way to live again.

Another Wave...

Drowning in sorrow; back to the time of the death watch as Glen slipped away.On February 6, 2009 I wrote:

Glen has been getting radiation therapy...after seven treatments and increased pain medication the pain has not diminished. I now assist Glen in almost all of his daily needs...all in all I am exhausted by the end of the day...

Glen’s mom has started radiation treatments, to relieve the pain in her shoulder. She is in the hospital and hoping if she can manage the pain, she can go home.

On February 18, 2009 I wrote:

It is 5:15 in the morning. I tried to slept on the couch last night to be close to Glen - very restless sleep - kept waking up...Glen, twitching in the chair, oxygen on, c-pac off...I am trying to think things through. I need to figure out what options lie ahead...yesterday, news from the MRI brain scan that Glen has 10 to 15 lesions (cancer spots) in his brain was a blow...

On February 23, 2009 Glen was admitted to the hospital due to the severe pain in his ribs. On February 28, 2009 Glen receives a soft release into Hospice care. He signs a DNR and other forms necessary to receive hospice home care.

One March 19, remembering, I wrote:

Death came silently, without any appearance of struggle, simply a kind of surrender as Glen’s body wore out on Saturday, March 14. Brenda and I both watched the final two breaths, Glen’s adam’s apple moving slowly until stopping completely. No death rattle - just silence.

Now, I am left to feel again the wave of sorrow crash over me as I wait and watch Glen’s mother embark on the same journey. So much alike, mother and son. Grief smashes apart my heart.

Left Behind

I remember Glen telling me shortly after he was diagnosed with the lung cancer, it would be more difficult for me than for him because I would still be here.

On 6/3/08 after reading The Time Traveler’s Wife I wrote:

I find myself thinking about being left being left behind which was the main theme of the book... I do not want to go to this place - the void without Glen...I feel I am in a place now where Claire was whenever Henry would disappear and she is waiting for him...uncertain if he will return. So I sit and wait - not knowing whether I will be left behind.

Glen had been dead for 4 months when on 7/18/09 I wrote:

I feel the loss of the love of my life and still cannot believe fully that life is worth going on without him with me...it continues to be very difficult to fill the hours, let alone the day.

On 1/1/10 I wrote:

Now I must find a way to live a “me” life because the “we” part of my life has ended. My hope for 2010 is that I will find a way to begin creating the rest of my life without the love of my life to share the adventure.

On 1/31/10 I began to make this shift when I wrote:

I was totally unprepared for life without Glen...I was thrown into a state of grief so intense I was unable to think..Slowly you move from grief to mourning. I believe I have begun to mourn...I can see myself in the future instead of only in the past. I know I will live.

Grief is about being left behind, in the empty space of living; grief shifts to mourning when you begin to see a way to live.

4-ever grief

On February 26, 2008 I wrote:

I've been thinking about endings and how you rarely know when it will be the last time you see someone...I think I may be approaching this (end) with my beloved Glen. Often you don't know - but with a diagnosis of lung cancer, you have the opportunity to know that the end is near..."

And on August 24, 2010 I wrote:

Time marches on - routines develop and replace old patterns. The pain from grief lessens but seems to engulf me at unexpected moments...

Yesterday I received a phone call from Glen's sister - Barbara, their mother was diagnosed with lung cancer - very late stage - and the physical pain and grief crashes down on me once again.

Grief is unending - renewed with each loss or impending loss. Grief is forever.

As someone said to me a few months ago, "You never get over grief - so get over it."

Why Dubious Grief

According to Websters Dictionary (1988 ed)

grief - (gri:f) noun Of deep sorrow; a cause of sorrow or anxiety to come to grief to meet with disaster; to fail

dubious - (du-bi-ous) adj. doubtful, having doubts; of questionable value or truth; of uncertain outcome

dubious grief is at times, questioning the value of deep sorrow, but mostly dubious grief is about the uncertain outcome of deep sorrow.

You feel the deep physical pain - so you can not doubt the experience;

You have experienced the loss of your heart - and there is no doubt about the cause of your deep sorrow - how you have come to experience sorrow;

The character of your sorrow, shady, dark, is not in doubt;

Only the outcome of the sorrow is doubtful - will it ever end, this dark sorrow?

Will life continue or will the experience of deep sorrow cause your life to cease to exist?