Today is the two week anniversary of Warren's passing. I don't know where I am, or even who I am anymore. I seem to alternate between days that are busy and days that just disappear. I decided this week that I should gather up his summer clothing and donate them while the thrift stores want summer wear and people can use them. I managed to do that, but boy did it seem like a betrayal. I talk to him as I move about the house. When I cry I feel him near me.
Some days I visit the cemetery. Next time I go, I'll have to throw away the flowers that were left from the funeral. They are dying too. Its a very peaceful place with trees and bird song. The grave sits close to a Children's Garden, where babies are buried. It's a very powerful reminder that grief can come in different flavors. Its a whole lot easier to accept a death of a loved one who was 74 than to think of losing an infant. I've seen some of the young parents in the garden and my broken heart breaks again for them.
I know I am isolating myself right now. I need to do this. I need this time alone to get my bearings. Every time I'm out all I see are couples, or young families just starting out. I want my life back the way it was before cancer. I want to start over and do it all again. I want him to walk through the front door again. I am reminded of Joan Didion's book "The Year of Magical Thinking" that she wrote after her husband suddenly died. She spoke of being unable to get rid of his clothes in case he came back and of how magical thinking like that seem to permeate the first year following his death.
The last several years of my blog have been chronicling his disease and how we dealt with it, I suppose you can expect for awhile that I'll be talking about how I deal with the loss of a husband and friend.
I came across this poem on The Writer's Almanac page the other day that seems to fit where I am. Enjoy.
Things to Do in the Belly of the Whale
by Dan Albergotti
Measure the walls. Count the ribs. Notch the long days.
Look up for blue sky through the spout. Make small fires
with the broken hulls of fishing boats. Practice smoke signals.
Call old friends, and listen for echoes of distant voices.
Organize your calendar. Dream of the beach. Look each way
for the dim glow of light. Work on your reports. Review
each of your life's ten million choices. Endure moments
of self-loathing. Find the evidence of those before you.
Destroy it. Try to be very quiet, and listen for the sound
of gears and moving water. Listen for the sound of your heart.
Be thankful that you are here, swallowed with all hope,
where you can rest and wait. Be nostalgic. Think of all
the things you did and could have done. Remember
treading water in the center of the still night sea, your toes
pointing again and again down, down into the black depths.
by Dan Albergotti
Measure the walls. Count the ribs. Notch the long days.
Look up for blue sky through the spout. Make small fires
with the broken hulls of fishing boats. Practice smoke signals.
Call old friends, and listen for echoes of distant voices.
Organize your calendar. Dream of the beach. Look each way
for the dim glow of light. Work on your reports. Review
each of your life's ten million choices. Endure moments
of self-loathing. Find the evidence of those before you.
Destroy it. Try to be very quiet, and listen for the sound
of gears and moving water. Listen for the sound of your heart.
Be thankful that you are here, swallowed with all hope,
where you can rest and wait. Be nostalgic. Think of all
the things you did and could have done. Remember
treading water in the center of the still night sea, your toes
pointing again and again down, down into the black depths.
"Things to Do in the Belly of the Whale" by Dan Albergotti from The Boatloads.© BOA Editions, Ltd., 2008.
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Hello. You don't know me. Or maybe you've come across me through friends of friends the way I've come across you. I wanted to tell you how sorry I was that your husband had passed when I first read of it two weeks ago but the words were lost to me. We lost my father in law to pancreatic cancer 10 years ago this December. I know all the phrases and kind predictable words that are expressed to the grieving are well meant. But I also know how they start to feel oppressive and can lead to darker thoughts that exacerbate the grief. We say that we had three months. Three months of knowing that we were saying goodbye, three months left with him in our lives. But that makes it sound like we forgot the 53 years he spent on this earth before them. I look at my children and wish he could have seen them. I wish I could see my husband see his father hold them. My comfort is found in my certain knowledge that he would have adored them. And my belief that he is now overjoyed, even if out of sight when Mike holds the girls.
ReplyDeleteMy intent with sharing is not to belittle or overly express my thoughts for you. It's not easy to find comfort right now I know. I only wish to share a few moments of peace. You are in my thoughts and I hope that you have a moment or two today that is peaceful for you.
I can't even begin to imaging what it must be like to separate from a life long partner, friend, and love one...
ReplyDeleteI pray you find some measure of comfort in the little small things in life including your friends from around the world right here...
Thanks =)
ReplyDeletehang in there and god bless!!!!!
ReplyDeleteWhen my husband died I dragged myself to work,couldn't talk to people,tried drinking for a bit,and couldn't even disperse his ashes for almost a year.The effing cancer really sucks.
ReplyDeleteLife is beautiful and death is only a release for the dead.
I suppose someday there is comfort in knowing that the suffering is over for the loved one,but it sure as hell feels lonely on this side.I guess after 26 years I'm still kinda pissed.
I'm praying that this part of the journey becomes lighter for you.Love is forever.
Big Hugs
Hugs Cheryl...we are here with you my friend...
ReplyDeleteI am overwhelmed by the enormity of life, by its splendor and its heartache. Be alone if you need to, be with others when you need to, they are there. You cannot but be yourself. We are all here loving you.
ReplyDeleteSaying good-bye to people who have been a big part of our lives is not easy. Especially if you will see them no more. I have been there (and more then once)The loss of a marriage partner is another kind of trauma, It can mean the end of a whole life-style that they shared
ReplyDeleteI FELT a lot of pressure on me to hold in my feelings. As if I didn't I would go insane from my grief. For the first weeks, I was in a state of emotional numbness, as if I had stopped functioning. there was an intense feeling of frustration, As if I was watching a car go over a cliff and there was nothing I could do about it. Feel however you have to feel. It will help you to deal with it. Don't be afraid to feel.
I had so many feelings. I was so worried about being a good example to others, about not caring enough for things me, about how I will go on, what are the things I could have done before, anger of it all, how do I deal with this all .My soul certainly felt a loathing toward life in a way. People remarks bothered me though they meant well. There is a time to weep,.
I began analyzing my situation and saying different things to match my mood-, Cry if you have to cry. Don't try to be too strong. Get it out of your system. Move on, be busy..........ect.
Grieving is a necessary emotional release. Releasing your feelings can relieve the pressure you are under. The natural expression of emotions, if coupled with understanding and accurate information, lets you put your feelings in proper perspective.
Of course, not everyone expresses grief in the same way. And such factors as whether the loved one died suddenly or death came after a long illness might have a bearing on the emotional reaction of the survivors. But one thing appears certain: Repressing your feelings can be harmful both physically and emotionally. It is far healthier to release your grief.
I see you are doing this--and this is good.Sometimes just daily activities like drinking water, feeding the dog. doing dishes seem a strain and yet these are the very things that keep us moving.
Talking can be a helpful release as you will see.
You may find that for a time your emotions will be somewhat unpredictable. Tears may flow without much advance warning. Perhaps just a trip to do that supermarket shopping could reduce you to tears, especially when, memories Be patient with yourself. Remember, they are a natural and necessary part of grieving.
Don't let others dictate how you should act or feel. The grieving process works differently with everyone. Others may think—and let you know that they think—you are grieving too much or not grieving enough. Forgive them and forget about it. Rather it was for a long time you shared or a short time--the feelings can be devastating. By trying to force yourself into a mold created by others or by society as a whole, you stunt your growth toward restored emotional health.
I pay you find the strength you need to see you through.Don't let others dictate how you should act or feel. The grieving process works differently with everyone. Others may think—and let you know that they think—you are grieving too much or not grieving enough. Forgive them and forget about it. By trying to force yourself into a mold created by others or by society as a whole, you stunt your growth toward restored emotional health.
Best wishes to you. Keep in mind there is much joy in living although at times it may not seem like it. Take care
I love you and will sit quietly with you.
ReplyDeleteI wouldn't expect anything less out of you. You are ever the teacher through your words of wisdom and I look forward to your blogs to come.
ReplyDeleteThe poem was beautiful.
I still have a small bag of clothes that belonged to my Mother in my closet, I used one of her sweat shirts to make a center piece for a quilt for my son. I also have a pair of her sandals that I kept in the camper. I never put them away (just pushed them aside or out of the way) and every time I tripped over them I would say something to her about leaving them out. Rob thought I was crazy, but he knew I needed her to be seen for awhile.
Love & hugs
Wow, does that sound sadly familiar. We were living with my folks when my father died, and each thing I did brought me pain because... I'd see a flower I couldn't show him, think of a joke I couldn't tell him.
ReplyDeleteHit submit too quickly... anyway, it sounds like you are doing what you need to be doing, hun. Take care, love and prayers always!
ReplyDeleteThank you Jen, Iggy, Cor, FOC, Sally, Kellianah, Bennett, Hadenough, Dorene, Nym and Peter. Your kind words and caring messages help sustain me at this time.
ReplyDeleteBitte schoen
ReplyDelete