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.