Monthly Archives: September 2013

Painful thoughts after he is gone

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The world is upside down and backwards. I am in a bubble surrounded by a haze. I don’t want to push it. Reality will seep in and take over.

I am sure I will wake up and find that this is a cruel joke. You will walk by and say “Hi Sweetie Pie,” and I will say “Oh Bob” and laugh.

Instead I cry every night. As the the days grow shorter your lack of presence is more pervasive. Pain slips in easily behind the darkness at the day’s end. And when I think I am done crying I start again.

My emotions rule me. I am not in control. Today I had to go to a hospital. I walked through the doors and my heart was pounding. My breathing erratic. I realized it was the first time I had been in a hospital since I left you there.

“This isn’t the way it was supposed to be.” That’s what the grieving always say. Now I understand what it means. There is no normal. Routine is gone. This isn’t reality just a cruel joke; a horrible nightmare. When will I wake up? I bounce back and forth. I am so tired. It is easier to allow my emotions to control me. I can’t control them. I give in to the sadness because fighting it is just too hard.

I am so afraid to continue this journey called life without you. I am strong, but am I strong enough to go on without you? Most days I feel like a leaf being pushed around by invisible air, never touching the ground, just brushing past it. Push and pull and toss me around. I am not grounded without you.

I don’t know if these words will help me through this. I would rather believe that you will be here with me when I wake up. We will know that every moment is precious. We will be comfortable in our silence as we were.

But now the silence is forever. Your voice is in my mind but not my ears. The bubble is starting to fall apart. There are small cracks as pain seeps in and the haze that was my buffer is pushed aside by the knowledge that this is not a dream no matter how much I wish it was.

I know that I will need to face reality that you aren’t coming back, but I can’t do that right now. Not yet.

 

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Three months after he was gone

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This blog will seem disjointed as you read it. My thoughts are disjointed, but I think it will all come together if you read through to the end.

September 8th: It is three months now since he has been gone. I have cried, sometimes totally bereft, but not as often as I did before. It doesn’t mean I don’t miss him. I miss him every day, hour and minute. It just means that life goes on. When he died I thought it stopped, at least for me. But it didn’t.

I realized one day this week that we all have two choices. We can get up out of bed every morning and put ourselves out there to possibly face ridicule or we let good things come into our lives. But it seems easier some days to stay in bed and curl up in a ball. It was the day I had this epiphany – not really such a prophetic realization, but a simple thought that stayed with me that day. It was that day when I encountered the most hurtful and painful anger.

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Bob was a family man. His parents, children, siblings, granddaughter, nieces and nephews were most important to him and me of course. Forgiving transgressions has always been part of our family’s culture. We don’t always agree with decisions made by others, but do our best not to judge. And when a family member is in trouble we are always there to help.

Bob wanted to protect his family from harm or hurt. He wasn’t authoritarian. So if he got mad his children stopped and listened. Sometimes they just did what they wanted anyway, even if he disagreed. Kids are like that. But they always thought twice about something if Dad didn’t approve.

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People often say to me, “Bob would have wanted” this or that. I don’t know what he would want other than to be with us. He wasn’t ready to die. We weren’t ready to let him go. But I do know he would be hurt and angry if his death created a chasm between his loved ones. I saw that happen this week.

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We all grieve in different ways. We go through the stages of grief – denial, anger, and somewhere down the road comes acceptance. But from what I can see the danger is in the phase of anger, and anger, like all the phases of grief, can arise over and over again, alone or in conjunction with other phases of grief.

I have tried to understand and give leeway to those who are also grieving Bob’s death. I don’t feel my grief is any more important than anyone else’s. I don’t judge how others grieve. I’m not angry at them. If grief separates us for a while, that’s o.k., as long as we come back together. But what happens when grief becomes anger that festers? What happens when things are said that can’t be taken back? I don’t think there are a lot of things that can’t be taken back with “I’m sorry” and a hug, but if the anger is so vile and ugly and hurtful it may take on a life of its own. I saw that happen this week.

Bob loved all of us and trusted us to stay strong together. He would not want us to hurt one another or judge or be spiteful.

Our grief and grieving is not about ourselves, it is about the loss of someone we loved. Some people choose to move more quickly. Others are more pensive. No one’s grief is more important or sacred than anyone else’s. We must be tolerant of everyone’s grieving process and forgiving, even if we don’t share the same feelings as someone else mourning our loved ones. Judgment of another’s grieving process at this fragile time is dangerous. Words can be said and deeds done that can’t be undone.

I have felt so much loss these three months, but never so much hurt as I felt this week when anger spewed its ugliness at me. What would Bob say now if he was here? Knowing who he was I am sure he’d be mediator and smooth things over. I am sad to know that his death has caused a divide that will be hard to mend. I will try to forgive but it will take time to forget.