Continued Grief Reflections

This is a continuation of my recent post about my father's death. It is also prompted by additional comment to that post from Boo, Beth, Flo and Cape Cod Kitty.

When I was in my early 30s, a co-worker's mother died. The co-worker was a grandmother and her mother well into her 90s but she and her mom were very close. They spoke at least three times a day on the phone and I know the mother had been very supportive to her daughter throughout the years including those spent in an abusive and difficult marriage. My co-worker was extremely grief stricken by her mom's death - her mom had been in good health up to that point and consequently she requested a two-week leave of absence. I found no problem with this but other co-workers raised their eyebrows in question. Why would she need so much time off?

As it turned out, my co-worker spent almost all of the two week-period of her time off in her attic going through her mother's possessions (I don't recall whose attic it was but it was an attic). I am reminded about this because of the response to my father's death, which was basically no response at all and Boo's comment that a death is a huge loss regardless of someone's age. Why do we not treat loss with more significance and compassion toward the grieving? I continue to struggle with this years after my husband's and then mother's and now my father's deaths.

My own mother was my rock throughout my husband's illness. She and my father could barely walk by that time, yet when I called them with emergency requests to watch my sons because I needed to get my husband to the ER, an hour away at the hospital he was being treated at, they came immediately and without any complaint. When my husband had his first stem cell transplant and had to stay in a special hotel for a few weeks in isolation he was unable to live there alone. My father ended up living with him because I had to be at home with the boys who were only 8 and 9. Again, no complaints at the hardship this caused my parents.

At the end, I would go into the hospital and spend the entire day sobbing. On the drive home to pick up the boys from the school aftercare, I would call my mom and talk to her about what the doctors had said, how my husband was doing (in a coma) and how I felt. She would stay on the line with me the entire hour drive home. She kept me sane during that period. And I have often reflected that I had such a hard time with my divorce because she was gone by then. She would have stood by me and probably said a thing or two to my soon-to-be-ex besides! Not having her support and love in my life made the divorce that much more difficult for me to get through. It has been about two years, and only now do I feel myself coming out of that fog of grief.

The absolute worst, most insensitive comment ever made to me about grief was said during my divorce mediation by the mediator who told me I had had so much experience with grief I should be better able to get over it more quickly. He also told me that since my marriage only lasted two years it wasn't really that much of a marriage and likewise I should be able to move ahead more quickly. I think of Boo's comments and say it didn't matter the marriage was only two years in duration. I adored my husband (he had saved me from widowhood) and I was absolutely devastated by the divorce and his rejection. Also, the fact that I had experienced the prior death of my husband and mom did nothing to brace me, strengthen me or make it easier for me to deal with my divorce. In the end, I think those events so close to one another actually made it far more difficult for me to face and deal with it. To this day I continue to miss and even love my ex-husband. Death, grief and loss don't always make us stronger. Sometimes I think they make us weaker.

And not having the support of my devoted mother only made it all the more challenging besides. I pay tribute here to my parents who stood by me in the darkest of my days. I wish my mom had been with me during my divorce but in some ways I think it is better that she died thinking that my life was okay and I had a husband to count on.

I have often said that I would never have started this blog if I hadn't divorced. This blog was my salvation from that event. I am a widow besides but it was really the divorce that plunged me into the deepest pit of despair and grief - unimaginable. I think some people think that I am still in some backward state of grief recovery because I am seven years out. But the loss of my beloved mother so soon after my husband and then my divorce was too much for me to bear. It was too much for my soul and heart to endure. There were some tough years following the divorce.

But I've survived, even after losing the house! I'm surely not thriving yet - life can still be a struggle. But I've gone on and even had another romantic relationship. And I've raised two boys totally on my own who've turned out to become pretty decent young men - I hear that in the apartment complex all the time - "Your boys are so nice," or "I really like your sons," or "Those are good kids there." Life has gone on but it has been hard and I'm not going to dismiss the challenges or heartache.

I wish it were easier for those of us on this road. I wish our society was kinder to widows and to anyone dealing with a loss. I have hoped these posts have helped others understand even just a little about what grief and loss do to the living. And you can be sure that I informed the mediator of his misconceptions.

Love and peace to all. And love and peace to those we have had to say goodbye to. Mom and Dad, I thank you for all you did for the boys and I. I probably never thanked you enough or conveyed how much I appreciated and loved you. I hope you know. Husband, know that everything I have done since your death has been for the boys and I know you must see them and be proud.

And now if I may add the wise words of author Jane Green here from "The Other Woman."

"I know that love isn't enough. You have to cherish the people you love, that saying I love you isn't ever enough, that you have to show that love each and every day, even when life threatens to get in the way.

If I may quote from someone else far more eloquent than I am, 'The greatest weakness of most humans is their hesitancy to tell others how much they love them while they're alive.'"

It's All A Crap Shoot

This weekend at the nursing home, a lot of wives were in visiting with their husbands. For the first time, I felt some anger and resentment simmering underneath my kind and composed exterior. I was reminded of the role I played as loving/devoted wife caring for my sick husband the years he was hospitalized and in rehab. These are older couples - one of the men is 93. My poor husband died at age 54 and I was 44. I definitely felt some unfairness with the fact that these couples ended up having more time together than my husband and I had. Their children are grown, there are grandchildren, the mortgage has been paid off. They were fortunate to have traveled and played golf together in retirement. It astounds me when I think about my husband maybe having lived to age 93 - how short his life really ended up being.

In the natural order of things, my husband and I should have had that regular and predictable life these couples were fortunate enough to have had. But we didn't and I know there are other younger couples out there dealing with sick spouses and young kids too. It's all a crap shoot in the end. Bitching out about the unfairness playing out in front of my eyes doesn't get me anywhere.

I saw myself in these wives and I put aside my anger for the extra time they've had and brought out the compassion because I know what lies ahead for them.

Aftermath

I think I am mourning the loss of my home. I say "I think" because I don't know anymore where the hell I am on this grief continuum. All the losses of the past six years are all bunched up into one big ball anyway. They all connect back to the death of my husband. I can't seem to separate one from the other.

It has only been five months since we sold the house and moved. Just five months that now feel like an eternity. The whole summer was spent cleaning and selling the home. Then, when it was sold, I literally on my own moved from a five-bedroom home into a two-bedroom space. I am down to one and a half storage units now housing the overflow which includes stuff I never had the time to get through when my mom died and my parent's house was sold, in 10/2007!

I was way too busy to think, much less grieve or process what moving would mean back in the summer. Now that I have some perspective with the passing of time, I look back with amazement that I was able to accomplish the feat of moving largely on my own. Sam was there during the actual 2-day move with the movers and he helped me a little with cleaning out the garage which ended up taking two long weeks. But there I was, a widowed overwrought mom, being forced to sell her home, working odd hours at the big box store, making sure teen boys got to their summer baseball games and accomplishing a major move on my own. The people in my world shrugged their shoulders and matter-of-factly went on with their lives, while mine was falling apart at the seams - literally.

And now here I am trying to cope with the aftermath. From this view I have tremendous admiration for what I accomplished over the summer. This was a big house and it had been pretty disorganized and messy from the years of my husband's illness and then my stint as an only parent. But there is also pent-up anger for this crazy world I inhabit that is so lacking in support, be it emotional or with helping with physical tasks. I can't quite put my finger on it to describe it properly. But it is this sense I get from others that my losses aren't really such a big deal, that they don't matter or count.

Well, let me set the record straight - losing my home was a tremendous loss and I am reeling from it five months later. But I don't know how to grieve this or where to go from here. Even Sam gives me that pat answer when I try and relate to him how much of a loss this is to me. You know the one - "You lost your home, it is over, now you have to get over it and move on..." I've asked him to stop reading this blog because he gets upset with me for getting too down, or feeling low and grieving too much. You know the drill. I'm sure you have heard all of that before too.

The thing is though, that this is a new loss. It is one slamming into me after a slew of others. Am I really supposed to be jumping cartwheels down the street and gleefully shouting, "I just lost my house five months ago!" Really, what do people expect? This is a major loss, although it is secondary to the death of my husband six years ago. That passage of time just keeps biting me in the backside. People think that because it has been awhile for me that I shouldn't be grieving at all, and I guess that includes the other losses that accumulated after my husband died.

There doesn't seem to be that much out there about handling and getting through secondary grief losses. Just that we need to acknowledge and grieve them individually. I think that some people view my ongoing grief as that for my husband and they think I am grieving too long. They don't know that the secondary losses along the way are part of the mix. And I've said this before, but in my case the pain I've experienced from these seemingly lesser losses has actually been harder for me to endure. Maybe it is because I'm more weary, have fewer resources, or am facing them without a spouse by my side. But these secondary challenges have been a chore to stare down in the eye.

Getting back to Sam, I just have felt that he has been critical and even holds what I post about against me. For example, he will remark that I seem more down when I am on the phone with him than how I seemed when I posted. Of course, none of our moods are stable. Maybe I was more upbeat or positive earlier in the day. And maybe my enthusiasm waned as the sun went down. I have felt I have had to defend myself and that is not what I want out of blogging. I surely do not want to say that my blog got between us!

I just read yesterday that the success of keeping a grief journal and I suppose blogging could fall under this category, is that it allows us to release toxic emotions. That then enables us to go on and face our days more productively. I will add that when I blog I take extreme care to be entirely honest and forthright. I present myself and whatever I feel at the time as it is for me. There is no hiding or sugarcoating.

So right now I am feeling some frustration with the pain that is haunting me based on losing my home. It is definitely not helping me to have excess time on my hands not working. I am going to reinvigorate my job-hunting focus - to step it up a notch. I am also going to devote more time and energy into clearing out the storage sheds. I need to keep busy and focused right now. And I am going to be kind to myself - really kind. And nurturing too. Maybe try and do some fun things just for me.

I am grateful:

1. For the return of McDonald's Shamrock Shakes.
2. That I have extra items to be able to donate to Goodwill.
3. For the great purse I bought some years back for $8.00 on sale, that I've used all winter. And I really was in need of one. It is a hand-knitted cable pattern design!
4. That I was able to get career counseling appts. on Tue. and Wed. I will get help with navigating the cyberworld which I am now floundering in.
5. For microwave popcorn.

Wanting To Be A Hibernating Bear

I am having a rough time - continuing to doubt my decision about moving. The boys' pain and grief is tearing me up inside. We've already suffered so much. Why do have to continue to endure change and challenge? It is hard to focus on the good that will come of this because it is in the future and the boys are so miserable right now. I cannot bear to see them suffer.

I am experiencing all those miserable symptoms of early grief - sobbing, not wanting to get up out of bed, hopelessness, tiredness, depression, not eating, feeling sick to my stomach, inactivity, loss of interest, helplessness and I'll be honest in admitting even wanting to die.

It is very cold here and the weather is not helping. I want to become a bear and just hibernate in a cave until the Spring thaw. But of course I need to somehow pull this all together and be there for the boys even though they are not speaking to me.

My sons want me to at least try and make a go of it back home on my own so they can finish at their old high school. But what they don't and can't understand is that I am tapped out of the strength and energy to do that. Although they told me I should muster it up because that is my job as a mother.

This pain is worse than what I felt when my husband died and then when I got divorced. I was helpless in preventing the death and had no control of changing my second husband's mind. But making the decision to move is within my power and to a degree I am responsible for the agony of my sons. Even though I made the decision trying to rationalize the overall eventual good for the family as a whole.

November

My absolutely favorite poem is by John Updike from his "A Child's Calendar." It is fitting to copy it down here as it is about the month of November. I have always been so moved by these words but they seem even more poignant now having just ended my week of grief anniversaries. I guess you could say that I am more tuned into my grief work and everything I see, read or hear can be related to some aspect of grief/loss. What I love about this poem is that it describes the bleakness of this month with beauty. And that is how I am viewing grief right now. It is bleak, hard and grueling to say the least. But underneath it all, scraped to our very souls and bones, there is a beauty there as we grow, become stronger and do the work of transforming ourselves.

November

The stripped and shapely
Maple grieves
The loss of her departed leaves.

The ground is hard,
As hard as stone.
The year is old,
The birds are flown.

And yet the world,
Nevertheless,
Displays a certain
Loveliness-

The beauty of
The bone. Tall God
Must see our souls
This way, and nod.

Give thanks: we do,
Each in his place
Around the table
During grace.

If ever there was a month to describe grief, I think it would be November. The darker and colder days; the sense of losing time and energy; the desolate landscape. And yet even in this gloomy month, a holiday of thankfulness and joy. Two contrasts. Like our grief. So much pain and loss - but also when we come right down to it, gratefulness for the time we did have, the children born of that union, the memories remaining forever.

The Walking Wounded

It was not my intent to rage, rant, vent or snipe when I wrote yesterday's post. Rather, it was an almost desperate measure to try and cope with overwhelming grief brought on by the prospect of leaving the house I have resided in for the past 19 years; having sold it for only $500.00 more than what it was appraised at 20 years ago; and being flung into the unknown future with the reality of not having a familial safety net to rely on or fall onto. That the past six years since my husband's death have been chaotic and unpredictable has no doubt strengthened the feelings of loss I have surrounding my home. These four physical walls have represented the only stability the boys and I have really had since my husband's death and now even that is being torn from us.

I know everyone has their own problems and demons. A married couple I am friends with is in the process of foreclosure also. But they have one another to lean on for comfort and support. Another friend is losing the day-to-day contact with his 11-year-old son, as his ex-wife has remarried and moved to a town out-of-state, six hours away. I sympathize with my friend at his loss but at the same time consider him fortunate that he and his ex-wife jointly share parenting responsibilities to some extent. Try waking up every morning being the sole worrier about your children's health, grades, socialization, safety and on top of that being frantic about the need to house, feed and clothe them.

For me personally, part of life's challenge has been the struggle to move forward despite having to confront so much pain in a brief period of time - multiple grief losses and secondary grief losses is how I refer to them. Every loss brings up new pain and reactivates the hurt of the old ones. My divorce contributed to the financial nightmare I am currently experiencing, as well as bringing up feelings of abandonment, rejection, instability and insecurity that no doubt have their roots in my long ago past. I am so weary...

If only my husband hadn't died - I wouldn't be in this position nor would I even be writing this post. And probably all of those miserable feelings of childhood pain and loss would still be deeply buried.

A Friend in Life and Death

One of the bad things about working is that I'm not home for nine hours and the boys have to fend for themselves. I feel as though I am not in touch with them - when I get home I am so exhausted I just collapse after getting everyone dinner. Then I go to bed early or frantically clean because of the house being on the market and tomorrow is the house inspection.

When I got home yesterday, I saw a memorial card from a funeral on the table and saw that it was for a teenage boy. I was not aware of a student in our community dying because I have been at work nonstop and haven't been keeping up with the news. It turns out that a friend of my oldest son since 7th grade died last week. While I was at work, he got dressed up and found a ride to get to the wake on his own. While there, he stood by his friend's open casket and talked to his friend's father for 30 minutes. He related that he patted his friend goodbye and that many of the kids there could not even approach the casket.

I was blown away by my son's maturity and actions. That he handled paying a tribute to his friend on his own without any assistance from me is amazing. But then to have the composure and strength to talk to his friend's grieving father for 30 long minutes is even more impressive!

I asked my son if he is more comfortable with death because of his Dad dying when he was 10 and he agreed with that. He did cry at the service, which I think is good.

I hate this job that takes me away from being with my boys when they need me but if I had been at home I would have driven my son to the wake and funeral. My not being there has shown me the depth of his character and soul. There aren't enough words to express the pride I now feel for this young man who has suffered so much but can also give so much.

Today I am grateful:

1. That there is still money left in the checking account with payday a day away.
2. That my son showed respect for his friend and his friend's family.
3. That both boys have been able to make mature decisions while I am working so although I worry, I also trust them.
4. For my job that does put food on the table.
5. For my sons' strength and perseverance.

GRIEF REVISITED - #1 of 2

Part One of Two Parts

Last Wednesday, my boys came home from their third day of baseball tryouts and all hell broke loose in our home because both did not make the team. That evening it was like all the grief bottled up in all of us was unleashed as we grappled with tremendous feelings of loss and deep pain. The boys retreated into themselves and refused to talk. I felt helpless as I was unable to take away their bitterness and disappointment. When I told some friends what was going on I got the response that it was not such a big deal. I tried to explain why this is not the case. For the boys whose Dad was a semi-pro bball player, baseball was still a way to connect with him on some level even after his death. The fact that they are good athletes and have been playing since they were toddlers and always expected to play on the high school team was another issue.

I have my suspicions as to why the boys didn't make the team. I know my youngest has suffered attitude problems with coaches and teachers since I got remarried to Husband #2. I think he had a reputation and did not get along with the head bball coach. As for my older son, he didn't try out last year as a Freshman for the team because we thought we were moving and that probably had some effect.

The day after all this happened (last Thursday) I was somewhat of a basket case. I spent the entire day crying and was lost to the world (no job hunting or cleaning up the house for me). I grappled with feelings of tremendous failure as a mom for not being able to be both a mom and dad to the boys. I clearly felt that if the boy's Dad was still alive they would have made the team, no question. All the years of me sacrificing as an only parent to keep the boys on elite travel teams, all the private lessons and clinics were for naught. In the end, this just proved that I could not be both a mom and dad.

The biggest sense of loss I felt was for my inability to take away the boy's pain. Here are these great kids who have really suffered the past years and yet they still have to face disappointments in the future like all of us still living. My ever flowing tears that day were really about my boys and how much sadness I was feeling for them.

That day I had the experience of looking around my house and really kind of seeing it in a new light. Upstairs, where I have photos of the boys lining the hallway, I noticed that the last photos I ever hung were the boy's school photos from the year their Dad died - five years ago! It was like kind of seeing our life over the past five years as being in a time warp - or seeing that it kind of stopped when my husband died if you know what I am trying to explain. Along that same vein, I also had the realization (maybe for the first time at this level) of just how much my boys have lost in the last five years and how much not having a living dad has impacted their lives forever. I don't think people can really comprehend this loss. When I was talking to a friend of mine, whose dad died when he was 16, I asked him to try and imagine what life would be like for his son who is in fifth grade if he died right now. That was the same grade my oldest son was in when his Dad died - he had just started the fifth grade and was only 10.

As I dealt with the tremendous grief that was unleashed by this event I thought about my sister and others who have made the comment, "What is so hard about being a single parent? Thousands are doing it every day." Well, the majority of those singles are not having to also deal with their kid's grief and loss issues at the same time as their disappointment over being cut from a team. And there is no handy ex-husband to relay masculine advice and support to the kids like Mike Brady of the Brady Bunch. As I thought about this, part of me felt great pride for everything I have faced and accomplished over the past five years! It has been truly challenging and yet I have parented to the best of my ability. It can surely not be disputed that what I have faced has not been on the same level as my sister, who has a stay-at-home husband to take care of their two kids.

The reason I knew we were also dealing with grief issues relating to the boy's Dad, was because of a comment my youngest made. He cried in front of the coaches when told he had not been picked for the team and he confided to me that he has not cried since his Dad's death. I also know for me when the boys told me that they had not made the team that I felt we had let their Dad down. That he would have been disappointed, that we failed him. Somehow I just knew that much of the emotion that evening was not only about the bball team. Looking back, in a way, I was happy it happened because I think it was one of the first times we really grieved collectively as a family together. And even though the issue appeared to be bball, I know there was a deeper level that we were confronting.

I have waited a full week to write about this situation because it has been extremely painful for me to acknowledge and face. But there is a happy ending which I will relate in my next post!

Today I am grateful:

1. That I hear birds chirp and sing - a sure sign that Winter is on its way out of here!
2. For books, which have provided me with strength and salvation my entire life!
3. That last week's painful event resulted in a greater connection between me and the boys, and especially seems to have broken through some barriers between my younger son and I.