Getting Unstuck

Time moves both quickly and slowly, depending on where I am in my grief process. When I am “stuck” time slows down - during chemotherapy time in 2008, I wrote:

So much of our life now involves the (chemotherapy) cycle...(it) is out of my control - especially the results...my life is consumed with living by the cycles...

Time I am unable to control is slow - when I can do nothing but wait.

This is the place I occupy waiting for the third chemotherapy treatment...(and) the results of the treatments...I sit and wait...

After Glen died there were many times when I was stuck and could not deal with being alone without him. September 2009 I wrote:

The hardest days are on the weekend when I will just simply sit in my chair and think about how much I miss Glen..

When I take action, time speeds up. Processing all of my emotions during the year following Glen’s death helped me begin to become unstuck. In 2010 I wrote:

Trying to create a life for myself...this is what I am striving to accomplish...something I need to do if I am to be healthy and find some fulfillment in living...

Today the act of writing helps me stay unstuck and moving along my path of living.

A Garden

After Glen died and I was left alone I wanted desperately to keep his memory alive. I decided to create a “remembrance garden” in the tradition of the Medicine Wheel Gardens created by Native Americans. When my sister Susan visited we began the task. On April 17 2009 I wrote:

Sue and I cleared a space for the garden...(we) dug out the grass after marking the circumference.

Within the circle we marked four quadrants for plants of four colors: white, yellow, purple, and red. A landscape barrier of rubber marked the circumference. I ordered soil and bought plants. On May 10 I wrote:

Planted the miniature rhododendron with red blooms in the southwest section, white clematis in the northwest section, witch hazel in the northeast, and blueberry bush in the southeast...

I bought perennials in the four colors and planted them to the garden. I placed rocks around the circumference and three stepping stones to divide each of the four sections. In the center of the garden, surrounded by 6 sacred rocks, is the cane my sister’s husband made for Glen. After two years, the garden flourishes. The day before the 2-year anniversary of Glen’s death I wrote:

I am the one left behind. I sit on a white plastic chair gazing at the bright colored blooms emerging in the remembrance garden. Missing the spring colors inspired me to create the remembrance garden; I did not want to miss springtime again, even as I continue to miss Glen.

The garden is a sacred space where I feel Glen’s spirit. This is a place where I come when I need reassurance that life still holds promise.

2 years

Tomorrow marks two years since Glen died. One year ago I wrote:

I am sad but not filled with the pain of grief that was with me for so long...I will love him forever - as long as I am alive...I will always keep him in my heart - but I will also find a way to live without him. I will smile and laugh and live in spite of the empty space in my heart. I will go forward for whatever time is left to me in in this world.

This past year was difficult, but not as painful as the first year after Glen’s death. In August 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. Loneliness from the loss surrounds me, always...A year ago I was so deep in grief I thought I could never move on - yet here I am...I believe now that a life without my love, Glen, is not only possible but will be fulfilling.

Now, two years after Glen died, I live - I write about my grief process and revise my novel. I socialize with a small group of like minded women. I take classes at the local community college. I cry when sadness engulfs me - sometimes it’s a song playing on the radio, other times I feel the emptiness Glen once filled in my life. I continue creating my life.

Approaching the End

This is a tough time for me - two years ago Glen was dying and I watched helplessly. The Hospice nurse thought Glen should be admitted to the hospital hospice unit. On March 2, 2009 I wrote:

Glen does not want to go back into the hospital. Brenda and I agree we will take care o him at home.

The Hospice doctor says Glen has been receiving the wrong pain medication. Instead of the morphine based drugs the doctor prescribes a nerve block. Glen starts taking the new medication. I wrote:

No more talk of hospitalization...Brenda and I persuade Glen to get into the hospital bed (set up in the living room)...we take turns sitting up with him.

The nerve block begins taking effect and I reduce the morphine gradually. Glen enters the “in-between world” - sometimes he is with us, other times he talks to those we can not see. On March 9 I wrote:

Talking, simple conversation near Glen about our lives together, childhood memories shared from Brenda, constant messages of love and appreciation for what he has given to us.

This was a time of tears but also a time for letting go and guiding Glen toward the end of his journey in this body and time and space. Death came silently, without any appearance of struggle, simply a kind of surrender as Glen’s body wore out.