November 17, 2015
Mom died. On November 7th.
Everything was fine....I was back from my cruise and had finally gotten caught up on mail, bills, bookings, unpacking and was still tackling some of home repairs...but life was going pretty smoothly. I was happy to finally walk the walk and not just "talk" it by diving into three ministry areas. So here I am...enjoying a Fall in Savannah that still feels like Summer (getting a bit tired of the weather STILL being so hot though...where IS Fall?)...and I get a call October 23rd from my sis that Mom had fallen at the assisted living home and a texted picture of Mom's knee saying she'd fallen on top of the caregiver trying to transfer her to a dining room chair. Lynn said she'd been called by the assisted living to tell her about it and that, except for the knee...she was okay. I asked about X-rays? They hadn't done any. I asked about hip bruising...Lynn said she was going on what they told her and that it was just her knee. Lynn agreed to check herself every inch of Mom and to insist on X-rays of hip and knees. So the next day...Lynn called me from the Emergency Room to tell me Yep. Fractured left hip. No fracture on the knee despite the terrible bruising and swelling. They were admitting her to the hospital. :(((
That was late Saturday night. No flights were even available Sunday as we have a small regional airport. Finally flew out to California Tuesday. Due to coumadin and an irregular and poorly controlled heart rate, she hadn't yet had her hip replacement yet. And Mom was adorable. Some confusion but really less than ever before. So darn sweet! Thanking everybody all the time for taking such good care of her. Always smiling in spite of the pain. Not wanting to complain. I could only stay a few days past the surgery due to a prior commitment. But then I missed my flight home on October 31st! Long story...my fault. I spent Halloween sitting with Mom in the hospital which was much better anyways. Made the flight the next morning though! Got home on Sunday, November 1st and 6 hours later, 3 of my girlfriends and I hit the road to drive six hours to Destin Florida for our annual Ladies Getaway.
My four days in Destin were great on friendship but frustrating with hospital calls to doctors and Lynn plus arguing with a doctor about her rash decision to transfer my Mom to a nursing home/rehab Monday...way too soon. Mom needed blood transfusions that same day and she'd had this onset of nausea/vomiting that had begun the day before but which wasn't eliminated yet so still not sure if it was a side effect of a med...or something else. Ugh!!! So hard not being there and arguing over the phone! Being nose to nose is much more effective. End result...the hospital discharged and transferred my Mom to a nursing home/rehab place. The discharge only lasted 2 days. Back to the E.R....and readmitted with aspiration pneumonia and a bowel obstruction before my trip to Destin was even over! Plus, getting up with the hospital nurses via phone was impossible! Frustratingly impossible. And dang it for being right about it not being safe to discharge her. Though it's true that she could have aspirated within the hospital even if she had stayed. But they would have figured out the bowel obstruction quickly had she stayed.
So...enroute home Thursday while at a lunch stop at waffle house... I booked a flight... on my phone! Never done that before! God was so in it. We were close to Tallahassee by then and no flights were available that day or even the next from the regional airport in Savannah so I figured out it was easy...and best...to just do a little ol quickie detour as we headed through Jacksonville, FL to their airport. Booked the flight and my understanding and supportive girlfriends dropped me off there and drove my car the rest of the way home to Savannah. Even though it was booked with the international airports of JAX and LAX, it worked. I think God hid a smile when I asked His help because...I WAS already packed (with the suitcase I'd taken with me to Destin)...as He knew I would be. And that I'd actually be going right through Jacksonville (e.g.: JAX airport) on our way home. He is good. Gotta give it to the Lord.
And I was so glad I got there when I did.
After my plane landed at LAX, I grabbed the rental car (again gotten on my phone while in the airport) and drove the 4 hours to the hospital in San Luis Obispo. Got there at 5:00... in the morning! But yay...finally was able to talk to a nurse! Rather than wake everyone by going directly to Mom's house in Morro Bay, I just stayed at the hospital. Mom was awake and...so totally knew me. Except for one time later that day...when I had to remind her who I was and that I was her "favorite" ;0. Of course, that was also in front of her real fave, Melinda...who laughed but that was immediately quelled when my Mom actually gave her this same look of suspicion she'd given me and said she didn't know who she was either! I (actually quite gleefully) shouted across Mom's bed, "Ha! Take THAT oh favorite one!", And we both dissolved into laughter which actually brought back the spark of recognition in my Mom's eyes. And bamm, Mom was back with us. But this lapse of knowing who we were only happened once this visit.
I was actually relieved and a bit surprised at how totally clear Mom was for both of my visits since breaking her hip. Her dementia and confusion was only mild. Flaring here and there but not too much. Unusual (here is when my medical background kicks in) given the multiple changes in surroundings, anesthesia and pain meds.
Watching as my lovely and sweet Mom, thoughout my first visit (right after she had her hip surgery)...tried SO hard to do everything that P.T. and the nurses and us had told her she needed to do to get well was painfully and adorably impressive. Turn. Reposition. Let them help her get out of bed and stand. Eat. Throughout all of it she really really pushed herself to try to do everything they asked of her and we told her she needed to do to get well. She was so brave and such a trooper...despite ongoing pain in her right knee, surgical pain in her left hip and 84 years of frailty compounded by anemia. I admire her courage and her efforts so very much. Made me very proud.
And it made me reflect on how she'd had so many surgeries when I was quite young...and yet...she'd never appeared to me "sick". I only knew she'd had them 'cause we kids would all be shipped off to live with various family and friends for a week here, a week there. Then...repeat. And...again, repeat. This happened several times growing up. But when we returned home after our "vacations", it was always to life as usual except once...when my Dad said my Mom was trying to sleep and to keep the noise down as we played handball against our garage door in the driveway. I must've been about 8. So I don't think I ever fully realized what my Mom had gone through sick and surgically-wise when younger. Even though she'd told us (when we were older) that she'd lost a lot of her colon from surgeries for diverticulosis, and about losing the baby (my youngest brother) and, later, having to have a hysterectomy. She'd had a smash up of surgeries in a relatively short span of time but I was young. Didn't even realize what was going on. So...I never gave my Mom credit for the inner strength she possessed to go through all of that, and still...never let it impact the four of us kids. My Mom was a terribly strong person....inside. She also lost my Dad at age 48, and even found my neighbor dead and did CPR and dealt with all that when I was in middle school. I'm embarrassed I never truly recognized the core of inner strength she had inside of her....till now. I just saw her and loved her and knew her as my Mom.
Which is another reason it hurt much during Mom's hospitalizations and hospice stays to recognize that... Mom was 'surprised' she was dying! Even when she was told we were starting her on hospice, there would be these surprised and sort of "considering" expressions that would flit across her face. Especially when I would ask again things like, "are you okay with Jesus?" and the ones about did she want everything done? Expressions blending surprise and unbelief mixed with "why is my daughter asking me this now? & "is this really happening?"
I especially recall the one where Mom had just the oddest expression as I had to explain to her that she wasn't recovering well...and that we needed to make sure and be sure...that she did NOT want everything done? (She'd always told us she never ever wanted even surgery again in her life, definitely not tubes, not nursing homes, not any of it...but we had to do the hip surgery as no one can just die in pain from a broken hip and lying immobile! And we had so hoped she'd recover even though it had been pretty clear with physical therapy that she wouldn't be able to return to assisted living and was doomed to a nursing home life. So I asked, again, this time in front of her nurse if she truly did understand she was really really sick...and did she want us to have them do surgery and everything to keep her alive? It was blissfully, and at the same time painfully, reassuring to hear her say so clearly this slow, enunciated, "No".
Yet, I don't think Mom truly believed she was so bad off she was actually dying. Maybe it was because she had tried so hard. So hard to do everything we told her to do! But then the throwing up had begun. The inability to keep anything down. And the diagnosis of aspiration pneumonia and a bowel obstruction. The docs told us she wasn't even a candidate for surgery. So it was really hard. Explaining it to Mom. Trying to make sure Mom was okay with the decision to stop trying. Did she understand what that mean't? Trying not to scare her by making it "too" clear ...but still making it clear "enough". Ughhhhhhhhhhhhhh. Pain Pain hurt hurt. Sigh and Ugh again.
I read the gospel of John out loud. Had been reading it myself so just mentioned to Mom that I had been and asking if she minded if I did so at her bedside and would she like to hear it too? As I told her...it was super good! And I laughed with her that she probably hadn't even heard the bible read in about 40 plus years or more. I remember Mom nodding it was okay for me to read it. And over the next 2 days, I did...getting interrupted by nurses and docs along the way but when I would ask Mom if it was okay for me to resume reading it...she'd nod. Once (after we had hit some of the really exciting parts just before getting interrupted "again")...and I asked...she not only nodded but she nodded vigorously!! That warmed my heart. It's one of the memories I'll treasure. And the one where I asked Mom if she believed all I was reading and if she was good with Jesus as her Lord and God...and she said, "yes".
Going to church, reading the bible and having anything to do really with God and Christianity had been pretty much not much since my early childhood with my Mom. And my stepdad...told me he doesn't want to know what is in the bible because he feels its best to believe that all beliefs are right...not just one. So he was definitely not into hearing a bunch of "stuff about Jesus".
The day we transferred Mom from the hospital and back to her old room at the assisted living (which also is a hospice provider) all of us kids and Wayne, my stepdad, were able to know we were there. A good thing. But none of the others felt up to staying the night with Mom. When it was finally just Pop and I, I told him I was going to read some of the Psalms from the bible to Mom. Wayne hurriedly got up and said he was going to head on home. He agreed not to be called if Mom died in the night since driving at night is not safe and he was so tired and frail....it was a good decision. They were/are both 84 years old. Plus Wayne has a bad heart. We "kids" had tried to get him to go home earlier as we didn't think waiting through the night at her bedside in case she died that night was at all good for his heart or him. He was so frail and crying already.
None of my sibs wanted to stay with Mom overnight...other than me. As there was a chance this could be drawn out for days or it could be hours. Cyndie and Dan just made it to Morro Bay earlier that evening and had already left for their hotel and dinner as they "didn't want to stay". They felt they'd said their good-byes. Mom and Lynn were sooooo close that Mom dying was literally tearing up Melinda's heart. So Lynn and Scott headed down the street together as they both felt it was too hard to stay...though Scott said he would return later that evening.
So...I was alone at Mom's bedside. I sang and read some psalms and prayed out loud for her, for myself. At one point I told God out loud that, in case and IF Mom wanted it verbalized and could hear me...I would be her proxy prayer person (since she could no longer talk and was unconscious) and asked His forgiveness for all the myriad and many sins she and I have done in our lives. And then, right after that prayer...I was so tired. I closed the Bible. Wanted just to shut my eyes and sleep. I told Mom, "I'm so tired Mom, I'm gonna stop. I'm gonna sleep right here". And I arranged a stool for my feet, slipped my hand into hers again and closed my eyes. And she stopped breathing.
I was like....What! Now!!! What!! OMGosh! Really Mom?! REALLY?! SHOOT! Jumping up and frantically calling (no answer) and then texting first Lynn, then Scott! Mom started taking a few ragged, irregular breaths but I so needed them to know this was actually "IT". And to get back here... fast!
They did. Mom had stopped even the rare breath in the short time before they arrived at the door to her room. The little assisted living caretaker tried to poke his head timidly into the room to behind them (surprised I'm sure as I hadn't even bothered to tell the employees of the home). He ran off to call in the hospice nurse. By then I was back in my chair with my feet up but with my hand gently on Mom's pulse. She still had one. Which left the three of us at Mom's bedside. Quiet. Loving. Thankful to be there as Mom's spirit slipped out of that room and into heaven and the Lords arms. It was actually peacefully beautiful. And now a memory we three will treasure.
The remaining week was a blur of cleaning, calls, ashes, stuff. Oh...and my birthday. First one in at least 3 decades that was spent with my original family and in California. But...of the past few weeks...patient advocacy, dealing with the doctors and nurses, then dealing with making and going through hospice arrangements as well as the abruptness of going from recovery to ...now dying... was simply like holding up a mirror again to life two years ago with Mike dying.
But now...I'm back home. Again. Snuggled up in my down and tempurpedic. It's over.
Like it was after Mike died..the initial peace is wearing off. I don't think it will go fully away. Not like it did with Mike. Besides, I think shock is often mistaken for peace. I have no anger at God. Mom was at a point in her life where there is actually blessing to be found in the dying. Plus...she knew God and is in heaven so in that way...it's similar to Mike in being joyful for that part. I don't see bargaining or serious depression to be an issue I'll have to deal with either. I disagree with the teaching that there's those "specific" stages. I think those emotions exist but you may not have every one of them, or maybe you will but in a different order and back and forth and back and forth along with a whole bunch of "other emotions" coming into play as well. So..I don't think the stages of grief really help....at least not the person going through grief. Maybe the people who've never really experienced grief since they will "usually" see at least some and maybe all of these "standard stage emotions" in those who are experiencing it. Maybe that is helpful...to them. But after losing first my Dad, the baby, friends, other relatives, Mike and now my Mom....nope. emotions are not just those and terribly vary in depth and intensity and frequency and patterns and just in everything...depending on the person, relationship, age and such.
So I will label where I am right now as simply ...Missing her. I miss the knowledge and fact of Mom being physically here...on this earth...in Morro Bay...whenever I wanted to call and talk with her. Missing her advice. Missing her being alive. Missing Mom talking with me...even though it was usually on the phone. Missing my Mom looking up, seeing me over her bed in the mornings when I would visit her in Morro Bay or at Garden House (the assisted care) and even when I'd visit her in the hospital...and seeing that massive smile start. And her hand reach up to caress my cheek. Missing all that.
Mom dying has affected my grief over Mike too! I have woken up several days in a row now with the first thought being... "Oh, Mom". Not the usual "Oh, Mike" thought. Wow. Losing Mom has pushed itself into the forefront of both my conscious and subconscious. Hmmm. I think by doing this, losing Mom has actually pushed me further along in letting go more of my grief and sadness with Mike. And I feel I am further along in being able to get on with my 'post-Michael' life.
Plus...I ran into a divorcee the other day who shared how her self-esteem had plummeted because of being rejected by her husband. And now, possibly by the boyfriend since the divorce. Wow. I have no self-esteem or rejection issues to handle with Mike. This is good! She is in a way different emotional state than I am in dealing with so many many different emotional issues...and she is 5 year post divorce! So....wow.
And then...I heard a christmas song on the radio yesterday. Flipping through channels and landing on The River with Delilah. Normally I hate to hear christmas songs till at least after Thanksgiving. And since Mikes death...I hated to hear christmas songs period! Last two christmases were so painful. But...the song didn't hurt! It felt enjoyable to hear it! I sat there and listened to the entire song without changing the channel and it felt good. This is so cool.
I think this year is the year I will finally be able to ENJOY Christmas again. Really enjoy it! Yay!!!!!! Actually getting excited about Christmas for the first time in 3 years. Good.
So where am I right now? I am grieving and missing my Mom. But my grief is so not the same as what I experienced with losing Michael. It's much more peaceful and less intense. More thought provoking than anything else...as this blog post bears witness! :).
And I am excited to realize as I type this that the enjoyment of Christmas and the closeness to my Lord and God....have only been strengthened through the past two and a half years since Mike...and two and half weeks since Mom.
I am in a good place.
Wednesday, November 18, 2015
Thursday, September 24, 2015
2 years
September 24, 2015
I'm finally home!
Snuggled up high with tons of feathers pillows and in my own bed. Gizmo's curled up in a little fluff ball next to me. It's 6:00 am. Sun isn't up yet so its dark outside my 2 huge windows looking out at what looks to be a very rainy day coming up. Which will be so nice! A day to match my mood and yet lift mine at the same time. I love a rainy day. Especially ones with serious lightening and thunder. Probably cause I grew up in drought-dry California.
I got home last night close to 11:00 pm. Home! After 2 1/2 weeks cruising the Mediterranean, Adriatic, and some other sea I can't recall the name of right now. I traveled with Amie. After the 12 night cruise, we spent four additional days meandering through Florence and Rome, Italy. My dream trip. Now over.
Lots of beds. Lots of things with wheels....planes, trains, buses, taxis. Lots of walking. And one Cruise Ship. But that wasn't the common denominator of the trip. Because the common denominator of that trip is the one that remains the same every day of my life.
Seeing lots.... and lots.... of "old-married" couples. I can't get away from them. Whether it's at home or anywhere else...they're everywhere. 'Specially on this cruise. Not that they're not delightful. We had a fantastic dining table group....all were older couples....mostly my age or a bit older. One celebrating 30 years. So sweet were they all! We met none close to Amies' age this trip. But she didn't care. We both knew we got lucky on our table group.
There's nothing one can do to change the fact that simply seeing married couples remains painful. Probably it's the same for divorced people and it's not just hard for widows and widowers. But the old-marrieds...they're the most painful. Yet, the husband and wife in the oldest couple at our table had both been widowed before...about 2- 3 years prior actually. ( They were actually "dating"). And were in their 70's ;). It was soothing to talk with them briefly about losing Mike and dealing with widowhood. Especially because they both "got" what it is like to be not quite 2 years out. Another had lost her husband years prior when quite young and remarried...so she too "got" it. While it's good to have friends and family who sympathize...it's a refreshing to the soul to be with those who have "been there" with a spouse. Not a child, brother, sister, mother or dad or even a best friend (though that often comes closest really)...but a spouse.
My common denominator has its shadings though. Seeing young marrieds doesn't feel the same as seeing old-marrieds. The young ones simply make me want to urge them to not fight or argue without resolving it before sleeping and to always focus on the "why" you love your mate and the "what's" about him make him a "good" man and "good" person and a "lucky for you to marry him-guy".
Seeing the old-marrieds...that's the killer hard part. Lots of arrows pierce me with them. Even seeing Mikes folks...happily married for 50+ years...every day (they live next door) also means that I see "what I will miss" every single day. So it came as no surprise to me that being on a Cruise with our scheduled dinner-dining-table filled with couples Mike and my age, or ones with maybe 5 - 10 years more years on us (marriage-wise)....carried the usual mixed bag of ouches. Not as bad as it could've been since the ones married 35+ and especially the 45 - 50+ years... can turn ouches into oozing.
I did have something that helped me throughout the journey too. It's helped me throughout the past two years actually. It's been taking and leaving a bit of Mike with me wherever I go.
The girls don't understand that having Mike's ashes and spreading them wherever I travel brings me a sense of peace. But for me, I like having a small bit of him with me when traveling to new places that I know he would've gone with me to see. However it resonates quite differently with the girls. Even though they heard Mike tell me, when I asked him what he wanted me to do with his ashes, to leave some here, some there...wherever I go.
Why it doesn't bother me but bothers the girls comes down to several differences. First....it literally feels fine for me to "touch" Mike's ashes. Maybe because I am a nurse and have dealt physically with death for decades. Maybe because christian-wise, I know Mikes' spirit is is heaven quite happily watching me....and that this is just "dust". But it is "his" dust and I simply don't have a problem with it. And I don't think I'm weird. We shared toothbrushes if need be...it's just not a big deal and actually even comforting.
Secondly, I have a great imagination. (It's fun to have one like mine!) When I leave bits of Mike behind, I imagine that day in the future that the Bible talks about! The day when the Lord brings all of us still living (and dead) to him in "bodily" form and gives us new bodies. Actually what that looks like ...the "how" of it and and just what he does with all the dust that is/was our old bodies....is not described in the Bible. But I imagine God calling out...and suddenly all these small swirls of ashes coming together from all the oceans, seas, and lands where I've left Mike...and they come together in one beautiful swirl ...and bamm....there will be Mike's old body floating up to heaven like snowflakes and pixie dust gathered from all over the world. And Mike will be laughingly watching from where he already is in heaven...in spirit form. So leaving a bit of Mike wherever I travel....gives me a warm feeling inside.
But it bothers the girls. Which means I have to be secretive about the actual "whens" and it also bothers them if I get too specific about the actual "where's". It's sad to me. Because I think it would be nice to share the feeling that it gives me with them.
I know my Mom enjoyed sharing with her second husband, Wayne, that warmth/joy/sadness blend that came when she spread the ashes of my Dad in the Pacific Ocean. But, while I leave a bit of Mike behind me wherever I travel, the girls are adamant they don't want to share in the experience.
But yay....I'm HOME! . The Cruise and my Italy/Greece/Etcetera trip was wonderful with great memories made. One of which is just remembering how hard Amie tried to remain "up" and "fun" (for me) in spite of coming down with the flu, cramping and throwing up in Ephesus (after a bad glass of pomegranate juice), and being bruised and banged up after falling down several marble steps while descending from the Acropolis in Greece. So while it was a bummer for me at times that she didn't feel up to giving in to my every spontaneous, impulsive whim...it also is a memory that warms my heart when I reflect on how hard it was for her and how she really kept trying to be "fun" and "up" for me even while feeling yuck. (If I'm the one who may stub my toe or bruise my pinkie...I can be all about.."Ow! I stubbed my toe... or Ow! my pinkie!).
But Amie knew that it was always my "dream" to go to Italy. The other countries...not so much. I'd actually already been to Istanbul, Ephesis, Athen, and Mykonos. She knew I was "s'posed" to go to Italy (with Mikey) on our our 25th anniversary. Which would've been 2 years ago.
(Sigh and snort at the same time....) I don't even know if we would've actually done it! Mike promised he'd take me. But it wasn't ever Mike's dream. His was a Harley and a decked out-fishing-Kayak...or something similar. And financially....who knows if we would've even gone two years ago...had Mike not gotten sick. I'll never know for sure. It was May 2013 when he got sick. Had he not gotten sick, it mean't Mike had till March 2014 to plan our trip...IF he hadn't gotten his cancer diagnosis 10 months beforehand. Obviously...the next 4 months of his life were not spent figuring out or planning a trip to Italy. So....(blow out air from cheeks and shrug shoulders)... maybe we would've or maybe we wouldn't gone...then. But we would've done it. Because Mike was that way. He knew it was my dream and he would've done it for me and with me. Maybe 2 years ago or maybe 2 weeks ago. So I went. And am glad down to my toes that I did.
However, having gone. I am now..... a bit dream-less. I have some places I still wouldn't mind traveling to see. But no place that REALLY matters anymore. But, I promised my sister a trip to Alaska. So I know I have one more trip in me once I can find time and finances again. While I don't have a "dream" per se. I do have a "to do" list ...still.
( Sigh. Stop typing. Sigh again. Blow out air from cheeks. ) 2 years.
The date looms over this grey, rainy day. 2 years ago....Mike sat in the recliner next to our bed. Sat at the desk opposite me. Hugged. Held my hand. Argued with me over not his continuing to work and not quitting when he was so very sick. Loved me. And then 2 years ago.... tomorrow... lying next to me in this same bedroom, Michael died.
Two years ago. And as he lay 2 feet away from me now... I told him "it was okay". Such a huge lie. It was okay for him. It was not okay for me. And you only realize just how horribly and totally UN-okay it was...as you go through life without him.
But...moving forward has happened. And I am stronger and more whole. Much more "okay". But the anniversary of this day is not a good thing. And some people want to celebrate Mike on this day. I don't. I don't want to think much about the events that happened two years ago. I don't want those memories. I want them buried...down down down....really far. Away from me.
The dates from the 16th to the 25th of September hold horribly painful memories. They overflow and the intensity is enough to still cause me physical pain if I think on them for longer than a few seconds. Those 7 - 10 days were the most horrible of my entire life.
Having the rug pulled out from under us...the "months" we still had being turned into "go home to die in days" came literally overnight. Then there was more blood transfusions, surgical drain insertion, discharge, hospice, moving /packing to get Mike from our home to the Cottage out back (which had twinges of a hotel, not really "home" for the girls and I) and pain control/hospice/incompetence/inexperience/awfulness that leaves me with a blur of painful memories that only haunt me and which were broken only rarely by a few that were "good". I hate that week with 95% of my soul. It was torturous. The last day his younger brother stayed behind and I think it left him shell-shocked a bit. Even the girls missed many of those moments as they "didn't need to see" some of them. And we had sent Mom and Pop downstairs to be called "when" it "was time". Only those who have nursed someone dying and painfully, very very very painfully dying....will be able to imagine what the last 24 hours were like. So no...not a day I wish to remember. I don't circle it on the calendar. It's the worse of all the "painful-to-remember-days". Worse than his birthday, our anniversary, or the holidays. I prefer to have them be, for lack of a better word, submerged.
I won't work it as an RN either. First, because all I did was "nurse" Mike and nursing and hospitals only bring painful reminders. And besides, I know for sure that I will cry. Maybe only for a few seconds. Maybe moments. Maybe a heart-crushing sob. Maybe just tears that will quietly flow and drop off my cheek that make no sound. But I definitely do not want or plan to be nursing anyone at the hospital when those moments come.
So.... I timed this trip to Italy and the Cruise deliberately. And it has been a good thing. It kept my mind busier and the bottoms of my feet so that I haven't remembered "too often" the week I was in two years ago. The tears and memories came but they were triggered by the old-marrieds and the reminder of not having Mike. They weren't reminders of that last week two years ago. When I cried on this trip, it was over what I lost in that Man.... His goodness. His incredible heart. (True...he had flaws. We all do). But Mike had so MUCH good inside. I don't even come close to goodness like that which was inside of Michael. And now it is gone. Whether I deserved a man like that or not....he is gone. And over the years hoped for...that are lost.
I won't post tomorrow. I will get through tomorrow. And will be praying for Katie and Amie as they go through tomorrow. Because two years ago tomorrow, at 10:22 pm.... Mike died. I can reach out and touch where he was at that moment. And knowing he was right there...where I could throw my arm and hug a pillow that lies a few feet away from me...weird as it may sound... gives me a sense of warmth and love. Amidst the sense of loss. And again why I'm glad it is grey and rainy outside.
In my imagination, it's as if I have to advance through this valley. Like a scene from Braveheart or The Patriot. I imagine coming from the opposite side of the valley where I have to go, hordes of arrows darkening the sky above me and landing all around me as I try to cross through to the safety of the other side. Most of the time, the arrows miss me entirely and get stuck in the soft dirt and grass around me. And I can go long distances without being struck by one of the arrows. But then, there's always some..that pierce me through as I advance. And each time, I have to pull them out...and I cry. But I get to use a shield ( my daughters, my friends, my family, the girls and especially...the mundane of life that is lying in piles on my desk and in my suitcases as I look about this bedroom). And I get a sword (that I'm often dropping) to fend off arrows with too (My Bible, My Lord and God and listening to songs about Him).
It still actually surprises me...that my hold on that sword remains so slippery! I recognized yesterday that it is because I'm still not 100% finished with forgiving God or with trusting God that His decision really was best for ME. I'm sure He felt it was for Mike! Which only brings in a slew of new hurts and confusion from which I have to sort through and forgive God about. It's that 5 - 10% of me that hasn't really believed that this decision WAS in Mikes AND My and the girls...best interests. Why? Why now? Those questions without answers leave me feeling unloved and betrayed by God. And also quite hurt that God felt Mike deserved "right now" the new life that is FANTASTIC with Him in heaven. Which only makes me wonder why He thought the life Mike had with me on earth was so bad.
Really, God? Was it really so awful for Mike (from your point of view) that You didn't feel Mike should live (or endure) life here with me any longer? Yet I'm still stuck in it. And I am always quick to assure God that THAT is good. Not easy. Not always what I even want. But...I need to be here for the girls. I know that. It's "good" that I am still here. But...really? Mike couldn't stayed ....longer? Like all these other old-married couples?
So I continue to go through this mixed bag of bewilderment, hurt and bitterness interspersed sometimes rarely...often times (like on Sundays during worship) with shards of spiritual understanding and peace.
A bag seemingly filled with a oil and water mix of emotions. Even if proportions and ratios between the emotions change and even if some rise to the surface more often than others... ALL of the emotions remain in the bag. I would like the bag to empty out. Poke a hole in it. Get rid of all but the shards of peace and understanding.
I think Satan keeps refilling the bag...or at least rekindling the emotional intensity of the yucky ones. Like blowing on a spark that is about to go out...Satan and his minions keeps the sparks of emotions flaring...the ones I don't want to keep. Taunting me at times with the thoughts that life with me must've been pretty awful for Mike to get to go to heaven so darn early....for God to feel so bad for poor Mike that He had to "escape" him from living life with me.
Poor me. I sound pretty pathetic I know. I have to re-read The Screwtape letters" by C.S. Lewis I think. That may be a good shield to keep more of those taunts from finding fertile ground. Because just telling myself..."don't listen to that, it's from the enemy" helps...but doesn't eliminate the second round of firing off of arrows. And again....he'll taunt with the thought of how other wonderfully secure in their love of the Lord Christian Women who've experienced loss of a spouse would "never" feel or think the thoughts I just put to paper. "Those women" would be "inspiring" and "towers of strength and inspiration and joy" in their Lord.
(looking out the window at the rain and grey clouds)..... I really need my Lord. I really need Jesus Christ. I really need to climb into His lap and just be loved. And so I will do so and be encouraged by Him and be loved...by Him. And maybe...later....He'll make me an inspiration.
So onto submersion. If I think of Mike, I hope it will be focused on heaven and Mike being there. Not about the earth and me being down here...without him. So I will read my bible. And play my christian songs. And talk to God. And talk to Mike. And get lost in the general busyness of returning to life that has been put "on hold" for the past 2 1/2 weeks which means lots of laundry, lots of bills to pay, mail to go through, unpacking to accomplish etc.
Well....I guess that is all I have to blog about right now. I have to get through the next 48 hours....submerging in the mundane of life and walking while avoiding arrows.
Ciao, Au Revoir, (I don't remember how they say bye in Greece or Turkey :)
I'm finally home!
Snuggled up high with tons of feathers pillows and in my own bed. Gizmo's curled up in a little fluff ball next to me. It's 6:00 am. Sun isn't up yet so its dark outside my 2 huge windows looking out at what looks to be a very rainy day coming up. Which will be so nice! A day to match my mood and yet lift mine at the same time. I love a rainy day. Especially ones with serious lightening and thunder. Probably cause I grew up in drought-dry California.
I got home last night close to 11:00 pm. Home! After 2 1/2 weeks cruising the Mediterranean, Adriatic, and some other sea I can't recall the name of right now. I traveled with Amie. After the 12 night cruise, we spent four additional days meandering through Florence and Rome, Italy. My dream trip. Now over.
Lots of beds. Lots of things with wheels....planes, trains, buses, taxis. Lots of walking. And one Cruise Ship. But that wasn't the common denominator of the trip. Because the common denominator of that trip is the one that remains the same every day of my life.
Seeing lots.... and lots.... of "old-married" couples. I can't get away from them. Whether it's at home or anywhere else...they're everywhere. 'Specially on this cruise. Not that they're not delightful. We had a fantastic dining table group....all were older couples....mostly my age or a bit older. One celebrating 30 years. So sweet were they all! We met none close to Amies' age this trip. But she didn't care. We both knew we got lucky on our table group.
There's nothing one can do to change the fact that simply seeing married couples remains painful. Probably it's the same for divorced people and it's not just hard for widows and widowers. But the old-marrieds...they're the most painful. Yet, the husband and wife in the oldest couple at our table had both been widowed before...about 2- 3 years prior actually. ( They were actually "dating"). And were in their 70's ;). It was soothing to talk with them briefly about losing Mike and dealing with widowhood. Especially because they both "got" what it is like to be not quite 2 years out. Another had lost her husband years prior when quite young and remarried...so she too "got" it. While it's good to have friends and family who sympathize...it's a refreshing to the soul to be with those who have "been there" with a spouse. Not a child, brother, sister, mother or dad or even a best friend (though that often comes closest really)...but a spouse.
My common denominator has its shadings though. Seeing young marrieds doesn't feel the same as seeing old-marrieds. The young ones simply make me want to urge them to not fight or argue without resolving it before sleeping and to always focus on the "why" you love your mate and the "what's" about him make him a "good" man and "good" person and a "lucky for you to marry him-guy".
Seeing the old-marrieds...that's the killer hard part. Lots of arrows pierce me with them. Even seeing Mikes folks...happily married for 50+ years...every day (they live next door) also means that I see "what I will miss" every single day. So it came as no surprise to me that being on a Cruise with our scheduled dinner-dining-table filled with couples Mike and my age, or ones with maybe 5 - 10 years more years on us (marriage-wise)....carried the usual mixed bag of ouches. Not as bad as it could've been since the ones married 35+ and especially the 45 - 50+ years... can turn ouches into oozing.
I did have something that helped me throughout the journey too. It's helped me throughout the past two years actually. It's been taking and leaving a bit of Mike with me wherever I go.
The girls don't understand that having Mike's ashes and spreading them wherever I travel brings me a sense of peace. But for me, I like having a small bit of him with me when traveling to new places that I know he would've gone with me to see. However it resonates quite differently with the girls. Even though they heard Mike tell me, when I asked him what he wanted me to do with his ashes, to leave some here, some there...wherever I go.
Why it doesn't bother me but bothers the girls comes down to several differences. First....it literally feels fine for me to "touch" Mike's ashes. Maybe because I am a nurse and have dealt physically with death for decades. Maybe because christian-wise, I know Mikes' spirit is is heaven quite happily watching me....and that this is just "dust". But it is "his" dust and I simply don't have a problem with it. And I don't think I'm weird. We shared toothbrushes if need be...it's just not a big deal and actually even comforting.
Secondly, I have a great imagination. (It's fun to have one like mine!) When I leave bits of Mike behind, I imagine that day in the future that the Bible talks about! The day when the Lord brings all of us still living (and dead) to him in "bodily" form and gives us new bodies. Actually what that looks like ...the "how" of it and and just what he does with all the dust that is/was our old bodies....is not described in the Bible. But I imagine God calling out...and suddenly all these small swirls of ashes coming together from all the oceans, seas, and lands where I've left Mike...and they come together in one beautiful swirl ...and bamm....there will be Mike's old body floating up to heaven like snowflakes and pixie dust gathered from all over the world. And Mike will be laughingly watching from where he already is in heaven...in spirit form. So leaving a bit of Mike wherever I travel....gives me a warm feeling inside.
But it bothers the girls. Which means I have to be secretive about the actual "whens" and it also bothers them if I get too specific about the actual "where's". It's sad to me. Because I think it would be nice to share the feeling that it gives me with them.
I know my Mom enjoyed sharing with her second husband, Wayne, that warmth/joy/sadness blend that came when she spread the ashes of my Dad in the Pacific Ocean. But, while I leave a bit of Mike behind me wherever I travel, the girls are adamant they don't want to share in the experience.
But yay....I'm HOME! . The Cruise and my Italy/Greece/Etcetera trip was wonderful with great memories made. One of which is just remembering how hard Amie tried to remain "up" and "fun" (for me) in spite of coming down with the flu, cramping and throwing up in Ephesus (after a bad glass of pomegranate juice), and being bruised and banged up after falling down several marble steps while descending from the Acropolis in Greece. So while it was a bummer for me at times that she didn't feel up to giving in to my every spontaneous, impulsive whim...it also is a memory that warms my heart when I reflect on how hard it was for her and how she really kept trying to be "fun" and "up" for me even while feeling yuck. (If I'm the one who may stub my toe or bruise my pinkie...I can be all about.."Ow! I stubbed my toe... or Ow! my pinkie!).
But Amie knew that it was always my "dream" to go to Italy. The other countries...not so much. I'd actually already been to Istanbul, Ephesis, Athen, and Mykonos. She knew I was "s'posed" to go to Italy (with Mikey) on our our 25th anniversary. Which would've been 2 years ago.
(Sigh and snort at the same time....) I don't even know if we would've actually done it! Mike promised he'd take me. But it wasn't ever Mike's dream. His was a Harley and a decked out-fishing-Kayak...or something similar. And financially....who knows if we would've even gone two years ago...had Mike not gotten sick. I'll never know for sure. It was May 2013 when he got sick. Had he not gotten sick, it mean't Mike had till March 2014 to plan our trip...IF he hadn't gotten his cancer diagnosis 10 months beforehand. Obviously...the next 4 months of his life were not spent figuring out or planning a trip to Italy. So....(blow out air from cheeks and shrug shoulders)... maybe we would've or maybe we wouldn't gone...then. But we would've done it. Because Mike was that way. He knew it was my dream and he would've done it for me and with me. Maybe 2 years ago or maybe 2 weeks ago. So I went. And am glad down to my toes that I did.
However, having gone. I am now..... a bit dream-less. I have some places I still wouldn't mind traveling to see. But no place that REALLY matters anymore. But, I promised my sister a trip to Alaska. So I know I have one more trip in me once I can find time and finances again. While I don't have a "dream" per se. I do have a "to do" list ...still.
( Sigh. Stop typing. Sigh again. Blow out air from cheeks. ) 2 years.
The date looms over this grey, rainy day. 2 years ago....Mike sat in the recliner next to our bed. Sat at the desk opposite me. Hugged. Held my hand. Argued with me over not his continuing to work and not quitting when he was so very sick. Loved me. And then 2 years ago.... tomorrow... lying next to me in this same bedroom, Michael died.
Two years ago. And as he lay 2 feet away from me now... I told him "it was okay". Such a huge lie. It was okay for him. It was not okay for me. And you only realize just how horribly and totally UN-okay it was...as you go through life without him.
But...moving forward has happened. And I am stronger and more whole. Much more "okay". But the anniversary of this day is not a good thing. And some people want to celebrate Mike on this day. I don't. I don't want to think much about the events that happened two years ago. I don't want those memories. I want them buried...down down down....really far. Away from me.
The dates from the 16th to the 25th of September hold horribly painful memories. They overflow and the intensity is enough to still cause me physical pain if I think on them for longer than a few seconds. Those 7 - 10 days were the most horrible of my entire life.
Having the rug pulled out from under us...the "months" we still had being turned into "go home to die in days" came literally overnight. Then there was more blood transfusions, surgical drain insertion, discharge, hospice, moving /packing to get Mike from our home to the Cottage out back (which had twinges of a hotel, not really "home" for the girls and I) and pain control/hospice/incompetence/inexperience/awfulness that leaves me with a blur of painful memories that only haunt me and which were broken only rarely by a few that were "good". I hate that week with 95% of my soul. It was torturous. The last day his younger brother stayed behind and I think it left him shell-shocked a bit. Even the girls missed many of those moments as they "didn't need to see" some of them. And we had sent Mom and Pop downstairs to be called "when" it "was time". Only those who have nursed someone dying and painfully, very very very painfully dying....will be able to imagine what the last 24 hours were like. So no...not a day I wish to remember. I don't circle it on the calendar. It's the worse of all the "painful-to-remember-days". Worse than his birthday, our anniversary, or the holidays. I prefer to have them be, for lack of a better word, submerged.
I won't work it as an RN either. First, because all I did was "nurse" Mike and nursing and hospitals only bring painful reminders. And besides, I know for sure that I will cry. Maybe only for a few seconds. Maybe moments. Maybe a heart-crushing sob. Maybe just tears that will quietly flow and drop off my cheek that make no sound. But I definitely do not want or plan to be nursing anyone at the hospital when those moments come.
So.... I timed this trip to Italy and the Cruise deliberately. And it has been a good thing. It kept my mind busier and the bottoms of my feet so that I haven't remembered "too often" the week I was in two years ago. The tears and memories came but they were triggered by the old-marrieds and the reminder of not having Mike. They weren't reminders of that last week two years ago. When I cried on this trip, it was over what I lost in that Man.... His goodness. His incredible heart. (True...he had flaws. We all do). But Mike had so MUCH good inside. I don't even come close to goodness like that which was inside of Michael. And now it is gone. Whether I deserved a man like that or not....he is gone. And over the years hoped for...that are lost.
I won't post tomorrow. I will get through tomorrow. And will be praying for Katie and Amie as they go through tomorrow. Because two years ago tomorrow, at 10:22 pm.... Mike died. I can reach out and touch where he was at that moment. And knowing he was right there...where I could throw my arm and hug a pillow that lies a few feet away from me...weird as it may sound... gives me a sense of warmth and love. Amidst the sense of loss. And again why I'm glad it is grey and rainy outside.
In my imagination, it's as if I have to advance through this valley. Like a scene from Braveheart or The Patriot. I imagine coming from the opposite side of the valley where I have to go, hordes of arrows darkening the sky above me and landing all around me as I try to cross through to the safety of the other side. Most of the time, the arrows miss me entirely and get stuck in the soft dirt and grass around me. And I can go long distances without being struck by one of the arrows. But then, there's always some..that pierce me through as I advance. And each time, I have to pull them out...and I cry. But I get to use a shield ( my daughters, my friends, my family, the girls and especially...the mundane of life that is lying in piles on my desk and in my suitcases as I look about this bedroom). And I get a sword (that I'm often dropping) to fend off arrows with too (My Bible, My Lord and God and listening to songs about Him).
It still actually surprises me...that my hold on that sword remains so slippery! I recognized yesterday that it is because I'm still not 100% finished with forgiving God or with trusting God that His decision really was best for ME. I'm sure He felt it was for Mike! Which only brings in a slew of new hurts and confusion from which I have to sort through and forgive God about. It's that 5 - 10% of me that hasn't really believed that this decision WAS in Mikes AND My and the girls...best interests. Why? Why now? Those questions without answers leave me feeling unloved and betrayed by God. And also quite hurt that God felt Mike deserved "right now" the new life that is FANTASTIC with Him in heaven. Which only makes me wonder why He thought the life Mike had with me on earth was so bad.
Really, God? Was it really so awful for Mike (from your point of view) that You didn't feel Mike should live (or endure) life here with me any longer? Yet I'm still stuck in it. And I am always quick to assure God that THAT is good. Not easy. Not always what I even want. But...I need to be here for the girls. I know that. It's "good" that I am still here. But...really? Mike couldn't stayed ....longer? Like all these other old-married couples?
So I continue to go through this mixed bag of bewilderment, hurt and bitterness interspersed sometimes rarely...often times (like on Sundays during worship) with shards of spiritual understanding and peace.
A bag seemingly filled with a oil and water mix of emotions. Even if proportions and ratios between the emotions change and even if some rise to the surface more often than others... ALL of the emotions remain in the bag. I would like the bag to empty out. Poke a hole in it. Get rid of all but the shards of peace and understanding.
I think Satan keeps refilling the bag...or at least rekindling the emotional intensity of the yucky ones. Like blowing on a spark that is about to go out...Satan and his minions keeps the sparks of emotions flaring...the ones I don't want to keep. Taunting me at times with the thoughts that life with me must've been pretty awful for Mike to get to go to heaven so darn early....for God to feel so bad for poor Mike that He had to "escape" him from living life with me.
Poor me. I sound pretty pathetic I know. I have to re-read The Screwtape letters" by C.S. Lewis I think. That may be a good shield to keep more of those taunts from finding fertile ground. Because just telling myself..."don't listen to that, it's from the enemy" helps...but doesn't eliminate the second round of firing off of arrows. And again....he'll taunt with the thought of how other wonderfully secure in their love of the Lord Christian Women who've experienced loss of a spouse would "never" feel or think the thoughts I just put to paper. "Those women" would be "inspiring" and "towers of strength and inspiration and joy" in their Lord.
(looking out the window at the rain and grey clouds)..... I really need my Lord. I really need Jesus Christ. I really need to climb into His lap and just be loved. And so I will do so and be encouraged by Him and be loved...by Him. And maybe...later....He'll make me an inspiration.
So onto submersion. If I think of Mike, I hope it will be focused on heaven and Mike being there. Not about the earth and me being down here...without him. So I will read my bible. And play my christian songs. And talk to God. And talk to Mike. And get lost in the general busyness of returning to life that has been put "on hold" for the past 2 1/2 weeks which means lots of laundry, lots of bills to pay, mail to go through, unpacking to accomplish etc.
Well....I guess that is all I have to blog about right now. I have to get through the next 48 hours....submerging in the mundane of life and walking while avoiding arrows.
Ciao, Au Revoir, (I don't remember how they say bye in Greece or Turkey :)
Monday, August 10, 2015
Wanderlust....or coping mechanism? What is really behind all this recent travel?
There I was on Friday... in my "usual" thinking place. Yep...behind the wheel going approximately 64 in a 55mile/hour zone. And I got to thinking how it's been the making of "new" memories that have really have helped me with handling the loss of Mike.
Friends & family have commented on just how much I have traveled in the past 23 months since Mike died. It's true...I have traveled...alot! But then I've always loved to travel and I'd gone to lots of places even before I got married as well as afterwards with the girls and Mike. But...in the past year and a half it has hit overdrive. I've been to Barcelona, Spain and Brussels, Belgium with the girls; Took a Jamaica/Grand Cayman/Cozumel Cruise with Katie, Traveled 2 1/2 weeks through Japan with Amie; flew numerous times to/from California. Twice was with both Girls...One during Christmas and the other became an exploration along along Hwy 1 from San Francisco down to Morro Bay and back again; drove up to Banner Elk, NC to see fall foliage with friends; back to eastern NC to visit friends; Flew to Boston for this past Christmas; Drove to Orlando, Fl so many times to visit with Amie when she was living down there; and most recently I've packed the miles on my car driving back and forth to Tennessee to see Katie and Kentucky to visit Amie definitely a minimum of at least 8 times just since November! Yeah....I have done ALOT of traveling. I have to smile ironically as I type because I just finished, a couple weeks ago, planning a Mediterranean Cruise followed by a land tour of Italy that I'm heading off to this Fall...with Amie!
But..most of my traveling was not intentional. I didn't say to myself...I need to go travel!!! I must go and make "new" memories in new and exotic places.
In truth...I think the desire to travel was really more of an instinctual thing. To escape and go far away from the places full of "old" memories. Which was everything in Savannah actually. And the trips/travel or escapes...actually were in the form of everyday..gotta go see this person or that person. These trips wove naturally into my life. Which is why I never thought of them as escapes.
But now...as I drove and thought about my travels...it's clear to me that most of my travel trips were to either to visit family (the girls and/or my Mom mostly). Or they were "deliberately" scheduled to take place during those "special days". Those days. Ugh. Yep...some trips were definitely planned on purpose!!
You know the ones. The big square numbers on my calendar that I want to avoid completely. Just pretend it doesn't exist or just get PAST it...as fast as possible. Mikes Birthday, Our Anniversary, the fourth of July when he proposed, my Birthday, basically EVERY holiday, and the worst of the worst possible day....the day Mike actually died.
The idea to "get outa Dodge" was not subconscious during those dates. I was fully conscious and premeditating on planning those ones. But so much travel? Hmmm.
Some of that may well have been subconcious. Probably even the truth behind the comment my sister made a few months ago when she told me, "I get it, Mom traveled around the world after Dad died too". Her comment is the one that got me thinking the other day behind the wheel of my car.
I really never intended to do all this domestic and international travel right after Mike died. It's not like I am made of money either.
The trip to Japan with Amie was one I had promised her for years. Barcelona and Belgium...well that just was a whirlwind, spur of the moment, lets-have-a-last-minute-Mom/Daughter-trip-before-you -graduate-College impulse. Katie even planned most all of it. All I did was pull out my checkbook. Jamaica Cruise...was a definite plan for me to be somewhere else on my last birthday. Italy and Mediterranean...started out as a volunteer idea actually...then just evolved into a major cruise and trip that then involved Amie. But there were the ones that were pre-meditated....
My plan to skydive back in March five months after Mike died was purposefully to be my "escape" from our silver and first anniversary taking place after Mike died...but "cloud cover" made the flight crew reluctant to put their plane in the air. Dang! So I tried a second time. That time I planned for Mikes birthday this past September. But then Amie got emergently hospitalized in Florida with pneumonia. I cancelled the plane reservation and stayed with her in the hospital. Again in Florida! Florida was a huge "go to" place after Mike died. I must've driven down there at least a dozen times. But it was because Amie was doing her Disney internship in Orlando. So I'd visit a lot. Then, this past November, ..Katie up and gets an interview followed by a need to get an apartment followed by...driving a Uhaul truck to Tennessee. And of course...I'm gonna visit my baby girl...alot! And wallah... Amie got her summer job in Kentucky...so yeah...lets check it out. Might as well stop along the way...always did want to see Chatannooga. Hmmm. Might as well stop in Asheville, NC on the way home. Normal thoughts. California back and forths were due to family and helping with my Mom who had had a stroke 3 weeks before Mike got his cancer diagnosis. So... definitely not like I planned on vying with Phineas Fogg to go around the world in 23 months or that kinda thing.
But being a bit "stuck" in Savannah was hard too. Memories everywhere. Experts say keep things the same for at least a year. Plus the girls needed stability. Their lives were stressed and heading into limbo as they graduated college and tried to figure out where they would live/move/get a job etc. So....in retrospect, I think God knew that I needed new memories.
And He helped make that happen. "New" places. New memories that didn't involve Mike. While it seems sad and even mean to say out loud...or type on paper. That is actually a good thing. Because..these new ones were fun memories. Sure there were times I cried during them because Mike wasn't there and in them.
But..this is the thing I realize now. I am very "okay" with returning to these "new" memories. Revisiting in my mind those new places I got to see and explore. Whereas the memories of times before Mike died.. just bring back pain. I don't want to think too long on them. I don't want to go through photo albums. I don't want to travel down the myriad of distant paths within my memory lane. But the newer ones...they're okay to go back down.
So yep. Making new memories in new places....do it. It's definitely been a good coping mechanism. Different places, different people, and doing very different things...climbing up waterfalls, touring castles, getting blisters from all the walking, coaxing snow monkeys into a photo shot. These new memories and travels really have been super helpful in coping with life without Mike.
But it's still odd to think about what my sister had said about my Mom. That she traveled a ton too right after my Dad died (though she too had traveled extensively with my Dad...they both infected me with the travel bug gene!). But it was so true. My Mom hit travel overdrive after my Dad died too! She worked as a domestic travel agent at AAA and was promoted to world travel agent soon after he passed away. So my Mom promptly headed up group tours all over the world for the next 8 years. Even took me on my first Mediterranean Cruise to Israel, Egypt, Turkey and Greece when I was only 25! Hmmm. Here all these years I just thought she was working.
And it's only now....34 years after my Dad passed away that I realize....hey.. God had a reason for putting her into all that. Huh. (shaking my head). So interesting to reflect back on how He works and the fact it's taken me these past 20 months to even realize He was behind a lot of this! For me...and probably for my Mom as well. Huh. (shaking head again). Okay then. Happy Trails :).
Friends & family have commented on just how much I have traveled in the past 23 months since Mike died. It's true...I have traveled...alot! But then I've always loved to travel and I'd gone to lots of places even before I got married as well as afterwards with the girls and Mike. But...in the past year and a half it has hit overdrive. I've been to Barcelona, Spain and Brussels, Belgium with the girls; Took a Jamaica/Grand Cayman/Cozumel Cruise with Katie, Traveled 2 1/2 weeks through Japan with Amie; flew numerous times to/from California. Twice was with both Girls...One during Christmas and the other became an exploration along along Hwy 1 from San Francisco down to Morro Bay and back again; drove up to Banner Elk, NC to see fall foliage with friends; back to eastern NC to visit friends; Flew to Boston for this past Christmas; Drove to Orlando, Fl so many times to visit with Amie when she was living down there; and most recently I've packed the miles on my car driving back and forth to Tennessee to see Katie and Kentucky to visit Amie definitely a minimum of at least 8 times just since November! Yeah....I have done ALOT of traveling. I have to smile ironically as I type because I just finished, a couple weeks ago, planning a Mediterranean Cruise followed by a land tour of Italy that I'm heading off to this Fall...with Amie!
But..most of my traveling was not intentional. I didn't say to myself...I need to go travel!!! I must go and make "new" memories in new and exotic places.
In truth...I think the desire to travel was really more of an instinctual thing. To escape and go far away from the places full of "old" memories. Which was everything in Savannah actually. And the trips/travel or escapes...actually were in the form of everyday..gotta go see this person or that person. These trips wove naturally into my life. Which is why I never thought of them as escapes.
But now...as I drove and thought about my travels...it's clear to me that most of my travel trips were to either to visit family (the girls and/or my Mom mostly). Or they were "deliberately" scheduled to take place during those "special days". Those days. Ugh. Yep...some trips were definitely planned on purpose!!
You know the ones. The big square numbers on my calendar that I want to avoid completely. Just pretend it doesn't exist or just get PAST it...as fast as possible. Mikes Birthday, Our Anniversary, the fourth of July when he proposed, my Birthday, basically EVERY holiday, and the worst of the worst possible day....the day Mike actually died.
The idea to "get outa Dodge" was not subconscious during those dates. I was fully conscious and premeditating on planning those ones. But so much travel? Hmmm.
Some of that may well have been subconcious. Probably even the truth behind the comment my sister made a few months ago when she told me, "I get it, Mom traveled around the world after Dad died too". Her comment is the one that got me thinking the other day behind the wheel of my car.
I really never intended to do all this domestic and international travel right after Mike died. It's not like I am made of money either.
The trip to Japan with Amie was one I had promised her for years. Barcelona and Belgium...well that just was a whirlwind, spur of the moment, lets-have-a-last-minute-Mom/Daughter-trip-before-you -graduate-College impulse. Katie even planned most all of it. All I did was pull out my checkbook. Jamaica Cruise...was a definite plan for me to be somewhere else on my last birthday. Italy and Mediterranean...started out as a volunteer idea actually...then just evolved into a major cruise and trip that then involved Amie. But there were the ones that were pre-meditated....
My plan to skydive back in March five months after Mike died was purposefully to be my "escape" from our silver and first anniversary taking place after Mike died...but "cloud cover" made the flight crew reluctant to put their plane in the air. Dang! So I tried a second time. That time I planned for Mikes birthday this past September. But then Amie got emergently hospitalized in Florida with pneumonia. I cancelled the plane reservation and stayed with her in the hospital. Again in Florida! Florida was a huge "go to" place after Mike died. I must've driven down there at least a dozen times. But it was because Amie was doing her Disney internship in Orlando. So I'd visit a lot. Then, this past November, ..Katie up and gets an interview followed by a need to get an apartment followed by...driving a Uhaul truck to Tennessee. And of course...I'm gonna visit my baby girl...alot! And wallah... Amie got her summer job in Kentucky...so yeah...lets check it out. Might as well stop along the way...always did want to see Chatannooga. Hmmm. Might as well stop in Asheville, NC on the way home. Normal thoughts. California back and forths were due to family and helping with my Mom who had had a stroke 3 weeks before Mike got his cancer diagnosis. So... definitely not like I planned on vying with Phineas Fogg to go around the world in 23 months or that kinda thing.
But being a bit "stuck" in Savannah was hard too. Memories everywhere. Experts say keep things the same for at least a year. Plus the girls needed stability. Their lives were stressed and heading into limbo as they graduated college and tried to figure out where they would live/move/get a job etc. So....in retrospect, I think God knew that I needed new memories.
And He helped make that happen. "New" places. New memories that didn't involve Mike. While it seems sad and even mean to say out loud...or type on paper. That is actually a good thing. Because..these new ones were fun memories. Sure there were times I cried during them because Mike wasn't there and in them.
But..this is the thing I realize now. I am very "okay" with returning to these "new" memories. Revisiting in my mind those new places I got to see and explore. Whereas the memories of times before Mike died.. just bring back pain. I don't want to think too long on them. I don't want to go through photo albums. I don't want to travel down the myriad of distant paths within my memory lane. But the newer ones...they're okay to go back down.
So yep. Making new memories in new places....do it. It's definitely been a good coping mechanism. Different places, different people, and doing very different things...climbing up waterfalls, touring castles, getting blisters from all the walking, coaxing snow monkeys into a photo shot. These new memories and travels really have been super helpful in coping with life without Mike.
But it's still odd to think about what my sister had said about my Mom. That she traveled a ton too right after my Dad died (though she too had traveled extensively with my Dad...they both infected me with the travel bug gene!). But it was so true. My Mom hit travel overdrive after my Dad died too! She worked as a domestic travel agent at AAA and was promoted to world travel agent soon after he passed away. So my Mom promptly headed up group tours all over the world for the next 8 years. Even took me on my first Mediterranean Cruise to Israel, Egypt, Turkey and Greece when I was only 25! Hmmm. Here all these years I just thought she was working.
And it's only now....34 years after my Dad passed away that I realize....hey.. God had a reason for putting her into all that. Huh. (shaking my head). So interesting to reflect back on how He works and the fact it's taken me these past 20 months to even realize He was behind a lot of this! For me...and probably for my Mom as well. Huh. (shaking head again). Okay then. Happy Trails :).
Wednesday, July 22, 2015
layers upon layers....this grief differs
So many days and nights, I look up at ceiling tiles and/or clouds and ask..."why? Mike..why did you have to die? It makes no sense. It's just....wrong. " I get no response from the painted ceilings and fluffy white clouds whether I'm asking it of Michael..or of God. Probably because I have the only answer I'm going to get this side of heaven.
The "God has His reasons". "God knew this was 'best", "I need to Trust"- answers. Not that they're not true. I have no argument with them. But...
But I want...an actual "explanation". A voice from the heavens telling me WHY this was best. Or even better...saying it was a mistake and give Mike back.
You know the adage, Time heals. Hmmph. I don't know. But I will say time does make its mark. I don't know if I will ever truly heal up 100%. I admit though ...time has turned the bloody, raw and oozing mush into dry, cracked ruts on my weary and pieced together heart.
This is a good thing. :) I can tell things are...different. I smile much more often and have times when I honestly do feel joy and ...am happy! Yep....I can be honestly happy now. At times. A lot of the time.
Yet...I really never go a day where the emotions of happy, apathetic, busy, stressed, and the other various emotions that crisscross through my 24 hrs aren't still slammed with spasms of grief and crying when it's least expected. The triggers, as before, remain the smallest things. A song lyric, a road sign, a white, work cargo van, a hammer, a nail, a construction site, a picture, a married couple. The list is endless. I'm really missing Mike's texts/calls and conversations. Wishing back the days when I'd think, "hey, I wonder if Mike can meet me for lunch?"...and so I would text. Or he would be the one to text or a call me. We did this daily. And so my daily way of living is just so messed up...without Mike. I admit I feel very lost in this day to day life that doesn't involve Mike's texts and calls and coming homes and going out and coming backs. I miss being able to punch in some numbers...and TALK to him. About the mundane....how our days were going..or went. About the girls, the finances, the bills, the repairs, the car, the rest of the family, just...everything. Talking and Texting and Phone Calls. And of course...I miss the intimacy. Say goodbye to that. That's a real kick in the pants. (Heavy sigh).
It's so weird and ....wrong...and just...not right. This living of my life in the same place, with the same work, and the same issues but doing it all without Michael's being in each moment of it. Like before. Remove him and the living the life I am living is like having a tire removed from your car. Nothing about it feels normal. Or even enjoyable.
But, time marches on and I do have more joy and happy periods now. It's been 22 months. I was driving yesterday and did what I usually do behind the wheel. Think. Think back. I began comparing how I felt over losing Mike...vs my Dad, vs the miscarriage of my second child, and just...how I had handled the losses of close friends vs various relatives and...even some co-workers of mine who abruptly died in accidents. Each loss is so darn different. .
Deaths of people if I actually "knew" and talked with at times that died unexpectedly when still "young"...made a bigger impact on me. Whereas....even if they were relatives, the impact was less if they were experiencing "expected" deaths over a longer period or were really old. My heart was saddened...but not cut and definitely not scarred.
But...the three deaths that scarred me the most were also felt so darn differently. Why? Well...my chapter in life was different for each...true enough. I had less time depending upon where I was in life...to notice the loss for one thing. Hmmmm.... Last variable (yes I am quite analytical when I am driving down city streets during a rainstorm).... how much I loved them.
Losing my Dad at the age of 21 from an unexpected heart attack when he was only 53....not a good thing. Very loved! I hated being a "half orphan". To me...more than just my Dad had been taken away from my life. The entire role of fathership had been removed. Resentment was the biggest take from that. I nourished my anger at God. Basically gave Him the "talk to the hand"-treatment... for over a year. I reserved hidden resentment... for people. I remember so clearly being a young R.N. and standing at the Nursing Desk charting just as a crowd of crying family members spilled out of a corner room near to where I stood. Their loved one had just died there. Luckily for them....He wasn't my patient. There was the Mom...about 70. The "kids" were all easily in their 40's. I looked at their huddled group and this angry thought just pierced into my brain so intensely! "What are ya'll crying so hard for...YOU had him till you were in your 40s!". I was so irritated. As if they really had no right to the depth of grief they were displaying. Because they'd had their Dad for an extra 20 + years than I had mine. Anger was definitely the defining emotion I carried when I lost my Dad. Not so with Mike. Then again...I was barely 21 when he died. Ready to graduate from college. It was the season of being an "adult" in the "grown-up world". And that is a busy life chapter.
I think about the girls having an almost an identical journey! So weird and so wrong! My Dad died... 6 months before I graduated College...and Mike died 8 months before Katie and Amie graduated from theirs. Boy do I understand how finals and midterms and graduation requirements and all the hustle/bustle of those months crowd out the time that thoughts and realization of the loss can crowd in. But still....they do. Every quiet moment...they'll hit you. Thoughts about things "Dad" wouldn't be there for... marriage, his grandchildren, oh...and that impending college graduation.
Still...it doesn't mean I necessarily have been of much help to the girls in their grief over Mike..or that they are experiencing their personal loss the same way I did with my Dad. First off...neither one is particularly angry at God. Thank goodness. I think their walks with the Lord were so much deeper than mine and much more longstanding (I came to the Lord at 19..they came when they were 5 and 7).
It bums me out that I don't know if I've helped them in bearing their grief for the past 22 months at all. I hope so. But I don't honestly know if...or what impact I've made. Mainly because I've been struggling so hard to get through my own grief.
The baby was actually the easiest grief to bear.....if that can actually be said. It was painful...yet.. "easiest" on the tough-o-meter! I so regret though the way that Mike found out. Do you know there actually are people who thrive/like to be the bearer of bad news! His secretary blurted it out to him. She refused to go get him to the phone ( after I told her the "why" he had to be interrupted and tracked down on the job site so I could talk to him on the phone because I was four hours away visiting my Mom when it happened). So she got him...and told him! But still...aside from that...the memory of how I felt is easily remember. Cause most of it was shock and denial. ... and bargaining. The Doc had given me the option to "wait" and let the labor kick in naturally over the next week or so (the baby had no heartbeat) or have an immediate D&C. I opted for the former. Figuring that it gave God a chance to do a "miracle" and I didn't want a D&C either. One week later...labor. At home. Awful! Then came sadness and crying. But...Life was crowded and busy...I had a toddler. I was working full-time in a busy ICU. We had recently moved and bought a house. After about 3-4 months though...I kinda felt like I was "over it". Maybe because I took great comfort (still do) in knowing that someday I will see him or her in heaven. I have a child in heaven...that I WILL see someday! It's exciting. I love that my Dad has a grandchild there and that Mike has gotten to meet his child too!
And then I got pregnant with Amie and realized then....that I realized I hadn't "truly" finished grieving for the baby I'd lost. I grieved afresh during the first few months of my pregnancy with Amie.
But...here I am...22 months after Mike died. Still so very far from being over or even past it yet. Well...I am moving forward. Just at a very slow pace. Slower than I sometimes think I should be? I'm not mired in my grief. I'm just...not.... done.
Maybe because I loved him beyond all else. I also have a lot of time lately in this current chapter of life I am in...sans girls/sans Mike. Memories keep getting triggered and crowding in to my day to day moments ALL the time. But the emotions I am having...the journey...is not those former "stages" that I (and probably every human being who's ever lost anyone) has heard about. You know...
shock/denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance. I definitely had gone through them...before. But not now. What I think I experience now...the best description...is layers. Something I didn't really have with any loss before this one.
My emotions now have all these nuances and are all blended together. Depression and Acceptance are intwined along with so many other emotions...alot of pain...lots of regrets...laughter and nostalgia also blend in. The feelings of joy seem very separate though. Spears of joy and happiness come in and...leave..and come...and go....and return again. Kinda like raindrops. I'm grateful that my life rains joy much more often these days. I'm a huge fan of laughter and I can laugh and laugh well. At myself. At the TV. At the dog. I joke with friends and often have wonderful and fun conversations. There I will merrily go...having these happy moments and then... Then comes the song lyric, the white cargo van, the sound of hammering or saws...and I collapse into tears.
I actually had an "epiphany" a few days ago. I suddenly realized something that probably had blocked me from making bigger strides in recovering from the regrets and almost literal "pain" that would hit me these days over losing Mike.
It was after working a 14 hour shift at the hospital. I got into my car and BAM....the realization just hit me. The reason I hated working at the hospital... was due to the depth of pain and hurt triggered whenever I did so. And those were stirred up due to the medical incompetence we either endured or tried to avoid...at the hospitals where I work. Four distinct hospitalizations in four months...with Mike. The memories of arguing (!) with an apathetic ER receptionist that I did too (!) need her to go get me a nurse..NOW! This was after driving 6 hours at 90 - 95 miles/hour to get Mike back to a hospital STAT. (He ended up having a Hemoglobin of 3!!!). Memories of buying all the sani wash for hand washing and marking up boards with the questions /tests to check with the Dr's about ordering. The hospice nightmare. It was hellish...arguing over and over and over again...with the hospice nurses for pain medicine to be brought back to even pre-discharge levels!
In short...it was the acts required in being Mikes "advocate"....and later Amies one year later when she was 5 days in the hospital with Pneumonia...that had left me seriously traumatized in a hidden section of my heart. Being a advocate. In a nutshell...it means making sure your loved one got the right tests/right care/absence of infection and none of the complications that could come " from" the hospital...while "in" the hospital. It's exhausting. And essential.
Being an RN in a variety of hospitals and different settings during the last 37 years...leaves me fully aware of just how lazy some aids and nurses are. It's embarrassing.... but very true. It leaves me fully aware of how hand washing is not always done... or done well. Fully aware that doctors do NOT know everything and some are downright dangerous to have as your doctor. Fully aware that nurses can have their hands tied by doctors who won't do (out of arrogance oftentimes) a treatment, lab test, or prescription simply because it was "suggested" by "a nurse". Fully aware that there are many apathetic nurses and just "not that bright" nurses out there. Fully aware that pain is still seen, despite studies to the contrary, by many nurses and doctors to be defined by "their criteria"...not the patients. And sadly...fully aware that many nurses truly may care but can be so bogged down by a heavy patient load that they're just lucky to get the "tasks" done and have no time to do necessities such as pain meds on a quick level or the niceties (such as ice chips) at all. Sometimes...they don't even do the actual orders you know were ordered. Fair warning to all readers...if a family member says even one time that they'll bathe a patient...I've seen PCT/Aides who will take that and run with it as a green light to NEVER bathe or assist with toileting their loved one again. Some nurses, even if they are lucky enough to get a light shift.... remain lazy because they take it as an opportunity to enjoy a slow night.
All of this creates within me a shame about my profession that also wars with a pride in my profession for when it's "done right". Nursing nowadays, in my opinion, is a mess of which I am "fully" aware of. Not to say...there aren't great nurses and great hospital experiences. And some of the days were good. Some of the nurses were really great. But...Mikes hospitalizations were a mixed bag...each time though. Advocacy...often means staying overnight. The one night I didn't caused Mike a lot of anxiety because the nurses didn't understand the prep for an outpatient PET Scan..and nearly boggled it. Even if I was there....you can not always advocate. Once I fell deeply asleep, truly exhausted, on a cot in his room...Mike, the next morning, told me the night nurse kept dropping the IV tubings and bags on the floor and how he had so wanted me ...to wake UP!."
So there I was, having just gotten into my car and I abruptly burst into tears before I could turn the key to the engine. This realization hit me kinda outa the blue....all those painful memories of arguing, along with all the ones where I failed to get them to give Mike the pain relief needed (though I tried, really really tried! ).... had really done a number on me. The idea sifted into my teary consciousness that it was even faintly ....like PTSD. Amie's hospitalization too... 5 nights at her bedside. The third night ...indifferent nurse, unavailable doctor unwilling to give any medicine until he could find time "to actually see her" (which wasn't for 2 hours)...left Amie slammed with a post lumbar puncture headache that went from 0 to 60 in under 10 seconds. But...because its onset was 3 days after the lumbar puncture neither the nurse nor I figured out the source at first. She just figured Amie was being a "baby". I knew better....but couldn't figure out the reason either...but who cares if I'm not Sherlock on this one...get the damn Dr! Amie remained with a pain level of 20 (on a scale of 1- 10) for over 2 hours before the Doctor (and the indifferent nurse) finally treated it. Hearing her cry out..."Mommy...HELP me!" and having my hands tied by this Dr and nurse who wouldn't give her ANYTHING....was horrible. Even worse was that it was Mikes birthday weekend...one year after he died...which only brought back the memory of watching my Rambo-like husband crawl on the bed toward me reaching out his hand and begging me, "Suzie...HELP me!
I'll start to cry if I spend more than 15 seconds reflecting upon the hospice incompetence with Michael. The arguing...the lack of training by the nurses. Lack of knowledge of proper pain doses when using a CADD pump with a nurse trained in neonatal premie-baby dosages! Memories of digging through my own medicine cabinet for prescriptions that were not longer "on his chart" to try to give hime something that could help or just get him back to the doses he was getting before he left the hospital was a challenge! Mike, dying of cancer with all that pain and now with a gallbladder attack ongoing. That was the reason why hospice was set up....he wasn't a surgical candidate..it was the death knell. The oncologist, Mike and I all knew it. Only hospice seemed to think Mike was to be with them for months...instead of just days. The very last 24 hours of hospice after we finally got the director, vice president and nurses who actually knew what they were doing on board...was good. After this experience with hospice, I can't even begin to imagine what it would've been like for someone without significant medical knowledge.
Maybe.... better? Maybe...that person would've called an ambulance and allowed the hospice nurses to get what they wanted ...which was for mike to just "go to hospice house" where he would die there. Instead of at home which is what he had wanted. I don't know. But I recognized in the car a few days ago that those harrowing experiences that I'd had (with both Mike and Amie) ...had actually left me traumatized to a degree. And I am not yet over it.
Sigh. Blow out air from cheeks. It helps, I think, to see/recognize that about myself. I knew before this that I needed to forgive the hospice nurses and doctors. I knew that months ago. Thought I'd made some inroads on that. But ...obviously...I have more forgiveness to do. I'll have to work on the Florida nurse and Doc forgiveness too...obviously.
I did approach lawyers re: the hospice incompetence about a month ago. But they say no case. The statute of limitations is two years. It is Sept 25th. They say we're too close to the date for them to have adequate preparation. Also, they add that IF a patient is "going to die and is in hospice because they are dying...then the absence of proper (even correct) care or not carrying prescribed and "ordered" pain medications ...really doesn't matter. Nor does the fact this all may create even greater pain and suffering ...due to incompetence. None of this really matters... in the courts eyes. Because the end result...is unchanged. So I guess the best place to work as a nurse or doctor where you won't ever get sued...is hospice. But actually trying to have it acknowledged, through lawyers and the courts, that what they did was wrong...(even though it is fruitless evidently) helps me put it behind me.
But...hospitalizations of loved ones need to not happen...for a long long long long time! Not for anything but a normal baby delivery...decades, please God. I need to recover.
Sigh. Well..... this is a long and meandering post. All that just to explain how I am doing emotionally.
Physically...I'm doing well. I've lost weight. I work out with... weights. ;). And I definitely feel better and less stiff than I did before Mike even got sick. I think it's because of the stretching, exercising and organic only eating I've been doing.
Spiritually....I'm getting a much closer relationship with Jesus. It's odd. I've always felt closest to the Holy Spirit....second up was God, the Father. I love the triune nature of God. But while I've always recognized the sacrifice Jesus gave that allows me access to the other two...I somehow never really sought Jesus out as much as I did the Holy Spirit and God. THAT has changed. I am very keenly aware of my need for Jesus. And very grateful to have a deeper and closer relationship with Him through all of this.
I am not 100% though...because I have a fear/hesitation when songs come up in church about "surrendering all" and such. Because I'm so aware ...that when I tell God HE can have ALL of me...it's not just "my" body..."my" life. It's the people ...in my life...that ARE my life. So it means I am telling Him He can have....them. I surrender all...means I am ready, as Abraham was long ago when he was willing to sacrifice Issac when God asked him to....t to have the girls die (IF that was God's will) and (this is the kicker)...that I will say...yep..you can have them, their lives in heaven and it's okay with me IF that's what YOU want God. But it won't be. I am not ready for that.
So....I love the Lord. Love my God. But I have this streak of uncertainty still (call it fear) that He yet might ask more from me than just Mike. I honestly don't care about "me" dying (I don't think at least). And I can get along fine (not that I'd be loving it but I could be fine as a bag lady..) if He wants my house, car, finances etc. But.... not the girls. I'm not ready for that. And I wonder... how bad is it that I am not in a place in my walk with Him that "that" is not okay?
Hmmmm. A major spiritually philosophical question I am not going to deal with right now.
Anyways...for this moment in time, I think I could use some joy raindrops. So I will head outside to a beautiful blue skied day...and run an errand and stop REMEMBERING. That is another great coping mechanism :).
PS...I need followers so if you do read my blogs..can you mark that you follow it? I'm trying to see if I can this out to a larger audience Thanks for checking "follow". <3
The "God has His reasons". "God knew this was 'best", "I need to Trust"- answers. Not that they're not true. I have no argument with them. But...
But I want...an actual "explanation". A voice from the heavens telling me WHY this was best. Or even better...saying it was a mistake and give Mike back.
You know the adage, Time heals. Hmmph. I don't know. But I will say time does make its mark. I don't know if I will ever truly heal up 100%. I admit though ...time has turned the bloody, raw and oozing mush into dry, cracked ruts on my weary and pieced together heart.
This is a good thing. :) I can tell things are...different. I smile much more often and have times when I honestly do feel joy and ...am happy! Yep....I can be honestly happy now. At times. A lot of the time.
Yet...I really never go a day where the emotions of happy, apathetic, busy, stressed, and the other various emotions that crisscross through my 24 hrs aren't still slammed with spasms of grief and crying when it's least expected. The triggers, as before, remain the smallest things. A song lyric, a road sign, a white, work cargo van, a hammer, a nail, a construction site, a picture, a married couple. The list is endless. I'm really missing Mike's texts/calls and conversations. Wishing back the days when I'd think, "hey, I wonder if Mike can meet me for lunch?"...and so I would text. Or he would be the one to text or a call me. We did this daily. And so my daily way of living is just so messed up...without Mike. I admit I feel very lost in this day to day life that doesn't involve Mike's texts and calls and coming homes and going out and coming backs. I miss being able to punch in some numbers...and TALK to him. About the mundane....how our days were going..or went. About the girls, the finances, the bills, the repairs, the car, the rest of the family, just...everything. Talking and Texting and Phone Calls. And of course...I miss the intimacy. Say goodbye to that. That's a real kick in the pants. (Heavy sigh).
It's so weird and ....wrong...and just...not right. This living of my life in the same place, with the same work, and the same issues but doing it all without Michael's being in each moment of it. Like before. Remove him and the living the life I am living is like having a tire removed from your car. Nothing about it feels normal. Or even enjoyable.
But, time marches on and I do have more joy and happy periods now. It's been 22 months. I was driving yesterday and did what I usually do behind the wheel. Think. Think back. I began comparing how I felt over losing Mike...vs my Dad, vs the miscarriage of my second child, and just...how I had handled the losses of close friends vs various relatives and...even some co-workers of mine who abruptly died in accidents. Each loss is so darn different. .
Deaths of people if I actually "knew" and talked with at times that died unexpectedly when still "young"...made a bigger impact on me. Whereas....even if they were relatives, the impact was less if they were experiencing "expected" deaths over a longer period or were really old. My heart was saddened...but not cut and definitely not scarred.
But...the three deaths that scarred me the most were also felt so darn differently. Why? Well...my chapter in life was different for each...true enough. I had less time depending upon where I was in life...to notice the loss for one thing. Hmmmm.... Last variable (yes I am quite analytical when I am driving down city streets during a rainstorm).... how much I loved them.
Losing my Dad at the age of 21 from an unexpected heart attack when he was only 53....not a good thing. Very loved! I hated being a "half orphan". To me...more than just my Dad had been taken away from my life. The entire role of fathership had been removed. Resentment was the biggest take from that. I nourished my anger at God. Basically gave Him the "talk to the hand"-treatment... for over a year. I reserved hidden resentment... for people. I remember so clearly being a young R.N. and standing at the Nursing Desk charting just as a crowd of crying family members spilled out of a corner room near to where I stood. Their loved one had just died there. Luckily for them....He wasn't my patient. There was the Mom...about 70. The "kids" were all easily in their 40's. I looked at their huddled group and this angry thought just pierced into my brain so intensely! "What are ya'll crying so hard for...YOU had him till you were in your 40s!". I was so irritated. As if they really had no right to the depth of grief they were displaying. Because they'd had their Dad for an extra 20 + years than I had mine. Anger was definitely the defining emotion I carried when I lost my Dad. Not so with Mike. Then again...I was barely 21 when he died. Ready to graduate from college. It was the season of being an "adult" in the "grown-up world". And that is a busy life chapter.
I think about the girls having an almost an identical journey! So weird and so wrong! My Dad died... 6 months before I graduated College...and Mike died 8 months before Katie and Amie graduated from theirs. Boy do I understand how finals and midterms and graduation requirements and all the hustle/bustle of those months crowd out the time that thoughts and realization of the loss can crowd in. But still....they do. Every quiet moment...they'll hit you. Thoughts about things "Dad" wouldn't be there for... marriage, his grandchildren, oh...and that impending college graduation.
Still...it doesn't mean I necessarily have been of much help to the girls in their grief over Mike..or that they are experiencing their personal loss the same way I did with my Dad. First off...neither one is particularly angry at God. Thank goodness. I think their walks with the Lord were so much deeper than mine and much more longstanding (I came to the Lord at 19..they came when they were 5 and 7).
It bums me out that I don't know if I've helped them in bearing their grief for the past 22 months at all. I hope so. But I don't honestly know if...or what impact I've made. Mainly because I've been struggling so hard to get through my own grief.
The baby was actually the easiest grief to bear.....if that can actually be said. It was painful...yet.. "easiest" on the tough-o-meter! I so regret though the way that Mike found out. Do you know there actually are people who thrive/like to be the bearer of bad news! His secretary blurted it out to him. She refused to go get him to the phone ( after I told her the "why" he had to be interrupted and tracked down on the job site so I could talk to him on the phone because I was four hours away visiting my Mom when it happened). So she got him...and told him! But still...aside from that...the memory of how I felt is easily remember. Cause most of it was shock and denial. ... and bargaining. The Doc had given me the option to "wait" and let the labor kick in naturally over the next week or so (the baby had no heartbeat) or have an immediate D&C. I opted for the former. Figuring that it gave God a chance to do a "miracle" and I didn't want a D&C either. One week later...labor. At home. Awful! Then came sadness and crying. But...Life was crowded and busy...I had a toddler. I was working full-time in a busy ICU. We had recently moved and bought a house. After about 3-4 months though...I kinda felt like I was "over it". Maybe because I took great comfort (still do) in knowing that someday I will see him or her in heaven. I have a child in heaven...that I WILL see someday! It's exciting. I love that my Dad has a grandchild there and that Mike has gotten to meet his child too!
And then I got pregnant with Amie and realized then....that I realized I hadn't "truly" finished grieving for the baby I'd lost. I grieved afresh during the first few months of my pregnancy with Amie.
But...here I am...22 months after Mike died. Still so very far from being over or even past it yet. Well...I am moving forward. Just at a very slow pace. Slower than I sometimes think I should be? I'm not mired in my grief. I'm just...not.... done.
Maybe because I loved him beyond all else. I also have a lot of time lately in this current chapter of life I am in...sans girls/sans Mike. Memories keep getting triggered and crowding in to my day to day moments ALL the time. But the emotions I am having...the journey...is not those former "stages" that I (and probably every human being who's ever lost anyone) has heard about. You know...
shock/denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance. I definitely had gone through them...before. But not now. What I think I experience now...the best description...is layers. Something I didn't really have with any loss before this one.
My emotions now have all these nuances and are all blended together. Depression and Acceptance are intwined along with so many other emotions...alot of pain...lots of regrets...laughter and nostalgia also blend in. The feelings of joy seem very separate though. Spears of joy and happiness come in and...leave..and come...and go....and return again. Kinda like raindrops. I'm grateful that my life rains joy much more often these days. I'm a huge fan of laughter and I can laugh and laugh well. At myself. At the TV. At the dog. I joke with friends and often have wonderful and fun conversations. There I will merrily go...having these happy moments and then... Then comes the song lyric, the white cargo van, the sound of hammering or saws...and I collapse into tears.
I actually had an "epiphany" a few days ago. I suddenly realized something that probably had blocked me from making bigger strides in recovering from the regrets and almost literal "pain" that would hit me these days over losing Mike.
It was after working a 14 hour shift at the hospital. I got into my car and BAM....the realization just hit me. The reason I hated working at the hospital... was due to the depth of pain and hurt triggered whenever I did so. And those were stirred up due to the medical incompetence we either endured or tried to avoid...at the hospitals where I work. Four distinct hospitalizations in four months...with Mike. The memories of arguing (!) with an apathetic ER receptionist that I did too (!) need her to go get me a nurse..NOW! This was after driving 6 hours at 90 - 95 miles/hour to get Mike back to a hospital STAT. (He ended up having a Hemoglobin of 3!!!). Memories of buying all the sani wash for hand washing and marking up boards with the questions /tests to check with the Dr's about ordering. The hospice nightmare. It was hellish...arguing over and over and over again...with the hospice nurses for pain medicine to be brought back to even pre-discharge levels!
In short...it was the acts required in being Mikes "advocate"....and later Amies one year later when she was 5 days in the hospital with Pneumonia...that had left me seriously traumatized in a hidden section of my heart. Being a advocate. In a nutshell...it means making sure your loved one got the right tests/right care/absence of infection and none of the complications that could come " from" the hospital...while "in" the hospital. It's exhausting. And essential.
Being an RN in a variety of hospitals and different settings during the last 37 years...leaves me fully aware of just how lazy some aids and nurses are. It's embarrassing.... but very true. It leaves me fully aware of how hand washing is not always done... or done well. Fully aware that doctors do NOT know everything and some are downright dangerous to have as your doctor. Fully aware that nurses can have their hands tied by doctors who won't do (out of arrogance oftentimes) a treatment, lab test, or prescription simply because it was "suggested" by "a nurse". Fully aware that there are many apathetic nurses and just "not that bright" nurses out there. Fully aware that pain is still seen, despite studies to the contrary, by many nurses and doctors to be defined by "their criteria"...not the patients. And sadly...fully aware that many nurses truly may care but can be so bogged down by a heavy patient load that they're just lucky to get the "tasks" done and have no time to do necessities such as pain meds on a quick level or the niceties (such as ice chips) at all. Sometimes...they don't even do the actual orders you know were ordered. Fair warning to all readers...if a family member says even one time that they'll bathe a patient...I've seen PCT/Aides who will take that and run with it as a green light to NEVER bathe or assist with toileting their loved one again. Some nurses, even if they are lucky enough to get a light shift.... remain lazy because they take it as an opportunity to enjoy a slow night.
All of this creates within me a shame about my profession that also wars with a pride in my profession for when it's "done right". Nursing nowadays, in my opinion, is a mess of which I am "fully" aware of. Not to say...there aren't great nurses and great hospital experiences. And some of the days were good. Some of the nurses were really great. But...Mikes hospitalizations were a mixed bag...each time though. Advocacy...often means staying overnight. The one night I didn't caused Mike a lot of anxiety because the nurses didn't understand the prep for an outpatient PET Scan..and nearly boggled it. Even if I was there....you can not always advocate. Once I fell deeply asleep, truly exhausted, on a cot in his room...Mike, the next morning, told me the night nurse kept dropping the IV tubings and bags on the floor and how he had so wanted me ...to wake UP!."
So there I was, having just gotten into my car and I abruptly burst into tears before I could turn the key to the engine. This realization hit me kinda outa the blue....all those painful memories of arguing, along with all the ones where I failed to get them to give Mike the pain relief needed (though I tried, really really tried! ).... had really done a number on me. The idea sifted into my teary consciousness that it was even faintly ....like PTSD. Amie's hospitalization too... 5 nights at her bedside. The third night ...indifferent nurse, unavailable doctor unwilling to give any medicine until he could find time "to actually see her" (which wasn't for 2 hours)...left Amie slammed with a post lumbar puncture headache that went from 0 to 60 in under 10 seconds. But...because its onset was 3 days after the lumbar puncture neither the nurse nor I figured out the source at first. She just figured Amie was being a "baby". I knew better....but couldn't figure out the reason either...but who cares if I'm not Sherlock on this one...get the damn Dr! Amie remained with a pain level of 20 (on a scale of 1- 10) for over 2 hours before the Doctor (and the indifferent nurse) finally treated it. Hearing her cry out..."Mommy...HELP me!" and having my hands tied by this Dr and nurse who wouldn't give her ANYTHING....was horrible. Even worse was that it was Mikes birthday weekend...one year after he died...which only brought back the memory of watching my Rambo-like husband crawl on the bed toward me reaching out his hand and begging me, "Suzie...HELP me!
I'll start to cry if I spend more than 15 seconds reflecting upon the hospice incompetence with Michael. The arguing...the lack of training by the nurses. Lack of knowledge of proper pain doses when using a CADD pump with a nurse trained in neonatal premie-baby dosages! Memories of digging through my own medicine cabinet for prescriptions that were not longer "on his chart" to try to give hime something that could help or just get him back to the doses he was getting before he left the hospital was a challenge! Mike, dying of cancer with all that pain and now with a gallbladder attack ongoing. That was the reason why hospice was set up....he wasn't a surgical candidate..it was the death knell. The oncologist, Mike and I all knew it. Only hospice seemed to think Mike was to be with them for months...instead of just days. The very last 24 hours of hospice after we finally got the director, vice president and nurses who actually knew what they were doing on board...was good. After this experience with hospice, I can't even begin to imagine what it would've been like for someone without significant medical knowledge.
Maybe.... better? Maybe...that person would've called an ambulance and allowed the hospice nurses to get what they wanted ...which was for mike to just "go to hospice house" where he would die there. Instead of at home which is what he had wanted. I don't know. But I recognized in the car a few days ago that those harrowing experiences that I'd had (with both Mike and Amie) ...had actually left me traumatized to a degree. And I am not yet over it.
Sigh. Blow out air from cheeks. It helps, I think, to see/recognize that about myself. I knew before this that I needed to forgive the hospice nurses and doctors. I knew that months ago. Thought I'd made some inroads on that. But ...obviously...I have more forgiveness to do. I'll have to work on the Florida nurse and Doc forgiveness too...obviously.
I did approach lawyers re: the hospice incompetence about a month ago. But they say no case. The statute of limitations is two years. It is Sept 25th. They say we're too close to the date for them to have adequate preparation. Also, they add that IF a patient is "going to die and is in hospice because they are dying...then the absence of proper (even correct) care or not carrying prescribed and "ordered" pain medications ...really doesn't matter. Nor does the fact this all may create even greater pain and suffering ...due to incompetence. None of this really matters... in the courts eyes. Because the end result...is unchanged. So I guess the best place to work as a nurse or doctor where you won't ever get sued...is hospice. But actually trying to have it acknowledged, through lawyers and the courts, that what they did was wrong...(even though it is fruitless evidently) helps me put it behind me.
But...hospitalizations of loved ones need to not happen...for a long long long long time! Not for anything but a normal baby delivery...decades, please God. I need to recover.
Sigh. Well..... this is a long and meandering post. All that just to explain how I am doing emotionally.
Physically...I'm doing well. I've lost weight. I work out with... weights. ;). And I definitely feel better and less stiff than I did before Mike even got sick. I think it's because of the stretching, exercising and organic only eating I've been doing.
Spiritually....I'm getting a much closer relationship with Jesus. It's odd. I've always felt closest to the Holy Spirit....second up was God, the Father. I love the triune nature of God. But while I've always recognized the sacrifice Jesus gave that allows me access to the other two...I somehow never really sought Jesus out as much as I did the Holy Spirit and God. THAT has changed. I am very keenly aware of my need for Jesus. And very grateful to have a deeper and closer relationship with Him through all of this.
I am not 100% though...because I have a fear/hesitation when songs come up in church about "surrendering all" and such. Because I'm so aware ...that when I tell God HE can have ALL of me...it's not just "my" body..."my" life. It's the people ...in my life...that ARE my life. So it means I am telling Him He can have....them. I surrender all...means I am ready, as Abraham was long ago when he was willing to sacrifice Issac when God asked him to....t to have the girls die (IF that was God's will) and (this is the kicker)...that I will say...yep..you can have them, their lives in heaven and it's okay with me IF that's what YOU want God. But it won't be. I am not ready for that.
So....I love the Lord. Love my God. But I have this streak of uncertainty still (call it fear) that He yet might ask more from me than just Mike. I honestly don't care about "me" dying (I don't think at least). And I can get along fine (not that I'd be loving it but I could be fine as a bag lady..) if He wants my house, car, finances etc. But.... not the girls. I'm not ready for that. And I wonder... how bad is it that I am not in a place in my walk with Him that "that" is not okay?
Hmmmm. A major spiritually philosophical question I am not going to deal with right now.
Anyways...for this moment in time, I think I could use some joy raindrops. So I will head outside to a beautiful blue skied day...and run an errand and stop REMEMBERING. That is another great coping mechanism :).
PS...I need followers so if you do read my blogs..can you mark that you follow it? I'm trying to see if I can this out to a larger audience Thanks for checking "follow". <3
Tuesday, June 2, 2015
mornings basically....(frustrated sigh)....dang but I hate the word "suck" and can't find anything closer to define it!
I am alone now. Katie lives in Tennessee. Got a great job there after College Graduation. Amie is now in Kentucky doing summer stock theater post her graduation as well. Happy for them. Except for me, the dog, the cat and 2 fish....the house is empty now.
I'm realizing that as much as I love and adore the girls....having either one or both of them home does nothing to make mornings any easier. This is not about physical presence or physical aloneness.
It is about the fact. The fact I have to wake to each morning...like an amnesiac who has to be told afresh about their life every morning. Mike is GONE. Not on this planet. Not a text away. Not a call away. My phone and my alerts won't go off. I won't get the "hey, wanna grab some lunch" calls ever ever ever ever again. Mornings are horrible because the realization is fresh.... every darn morning! HATE IT!
After crying again this morning. I figure I feel like a piece of old ceramic pottery that has been glued all together. I used to feel like brittle super fine china that was breaking into pieces. But now I'm thick ceramic with globs of glue sticking out. But somehow....remaining in one piece. Not a pretty piece. But all the parts are there. Except for half of it. And it is awful. Lonely. Painful. Wrong.
Usually...I try to put this into perspective with my walk with God. But right now I don't want to. It's not all "okay" because of God. I'm not Job. I'm very not perfect in my walk with God and walking with Him isn't making my mornings a breeze or light and wonderful. Sometimes I just don't want to talk to God. Trying to be okay with His decision is not simple and not immediate. Sometimes I am closer to it than other times. THIS is not one of those times. That is usually in the afternoon and early evening. The times when the fact Mike is gone ....has had time to meld into my daytime consciousness better. And I've had time to listen to Christian music and talk with God about "other" things. But first thing in the morning wake up and get out of bed times.... Suck.
I'm realizing that as much as I love and adore the girls....having either one or both of them home does nothing to make mornings any easier. This is not about physical presence or physical aloneness.
It is about the fact. The fact I have to wake to each morning...like an amnesiac who has to be told afresh about their life every morning. Mike is GONE. Not on this planet. Not a text away. Not a call away. My phone and my alerts won't go off. I won't get the "hey, wanna grab some lunch" calls ever ever ever ever again. Mornings are horrible because the realization is fresh.... every darn morning! HATE IT!
After crying again this morning. I figure I feel like a piece of old ceramic pottery that has been glued all together. I used to feel like brittle super fine china that was breaking into pieces. But now I'm thick ceramic with globs of glue sticking out. But somehow....remaining in one piece. Not a pretty piece. But all the parts are there. Except for half of it. And it is awful. Lonely. Painful. Wrong.
Usually...I try to put this into perspective with my walk with God. But right now I don't want to. It's not all "okay" because of God. I'm not Job. I'm very not perfect in my walk with God and walking with Him isn't making my mornings a breeze or light and wonderful. Sometimes I just don't want to talk to God. Trying to be okay with His decision is not simple and not immediate. Sometimes I am closer to it than other times. THIS is not one of those times. That is usually in the afternoon and early evening. The times when the fact Mike is gone ....has had time to meld into my daytime consciousness better. And I've had time to listen to Christian music and talk with God about "other" things. But first thing in the morning wake up and get out of bed times.... Suck.
Friday, May 29, 2015
20 months....
It still seems wrong somehow. That life without Mike remains so very, very, very hard and awful for me.
I think it's because of my being a Christian. I "feel" as if I should be much further along...much more "past" the overwhelming grief and sense of loss that remains with me. I'm better. I'm no longer drowning. I'm even walking on firm ground...not sand. And it is because of being a christian.
God IS in control. He DOES have something else for me (and...by the way.... that something else doesn't have to be a man. It could be service. friends. being His hands. it can be so many things).
My problem isn't in knowledge. I "know" a lot. It's that knowledge, even heart knowledge, is not a magic eraser.
The wonderful in all the awful.... is that God and I are entwined again. Because it is impossible to describe what that feels like to those who have not experienced the Holy Spirit, I won't try. But THAT relationship...that closeness....ahhhhhhhhhhh. Tears will start when I focus on it. And it has been so much more treasurable (if that's a word) because it was so absent, fought for and sought after....for so many of the past months! I had this relationship before Mike got sick. While Mike was sick. Right after Mike died. And then it just slipped and fell away... sinking like a lead balloon into depths where I couldn't even see Him. Leaving only a tremendously long, skinnnnnny thread tethering my heart to Him.
While initially I didn't care to even look at the thread, gradually I longed to have that relationship again. And for many months, I pulled on it, trying to restore and strengthen and SHORTEN that tie that bound me to Him. SOOOO relieved to have it restored to its nearly former self am I.
And then there's the other work my heart had to do along with the above. Live without Mike and survive it emotionally.
When I was younger, and had romances that didn't last or friends with romances that did and then...broke up. I was told that it takes half the length of the relationship before you're "over it". But then...that info was from the 1970's worldly pop-psychiatry.
God wasn't in their equation: relationship-duration-in-months divided by 2. Because if He was...then that equation leaves me wallowing in pain for another 13 1/2 years!
On top of working to restore the ultimate "tie that binds" to my Lord....and emotionally deal with not having my other half...I have had to deal with all the other "ties" that make up my life. And it can be exhausting. People tie me in knots too....not intentionally...it's just life. So many threads and ties to handle...and I basically felt more like a tangled up mess more often than not.
But still....better am I than my earlier blog posts. And yet...worse at the same time. I swear I am such an oxymoron!
This second year is so different and so much worse..in just a truly different way. It is that bottom line reality Mike really is ....GONE. Absent . From everything. From all the little things! Grocery lists, Meal planning, Meal eating, bill paying, vacation-making, repair-ing, automobile caring, income helping, bed sharing, text-receiving, phone calling, life-planning, conversation sharing. My life is so full of things to do and people to see. And totally empty at the same time.
Simply put..it sucks that Mike is not hear to share my myriad of moments. Because he always did...for 25 years of marriage and 5 years of being "best buds" before that. Some of my best memories are when we shared with each other ...the things that happened during the moments we were apart! I really miss the "how was your day's?" And coming home to Mike.
Nowadays, when I open the door it is only Gizmo, holding his leash in his mouth and vigorously wagging his tail, who greets me. Next Kiara will come over to rub against my legs and meow, quite loudly, for food. I set my keys down next to the fishbowls where both fish swim to the surface....hoping for food.
Thank the good Lord for these critters. I highly recommend everyone has a living creature in your home at all times. Even just a fish :). Something else that is alive!!
Because I type as my thoughts come....this thought just came. I so get the need to create "Wilson" from a soccer ball in that movie, Castaway, to keep sane. Next thought = but...you'd hope an island would at least have lizards or birds or something alive beyond just a soccer ball !
Moving on. I did a dis-service in my blog before when I said the books I received on dealing with grief during the first few weeks after Mikes death....weren't helpful. They weren't. At first. I was too ensconced in my own pain to want to read about the pain felt by others. And most were such thick tomes! But....in this SECOND year, they help! I am going through the thinner volumes first :). But I plan to work my way up to the really thick tomes. Currently I'm on the medium thick book, "Healing after Loss- Daily Meditations for working through Grief". It has some day reads that are perfectly on point. Others that are...hmmm, not really helpful. But I'm finding its good to have a go to each day that takes just a moment and hones in on what my life is wrestling with right now.
The other book is "God's healing for Life's Losses. How to find hope when you're hurting". Really good. I loved reading today that comfort used to mean "co-fortifying". Eg: Someone else fortifying you with their strength. And that the word, en-couraged, meant having courage poured into you from an outside source.
I've had that happen to me! I am so grateful. While I do like these books, the Bible is like a precious, tender friend. It gives me such comfort...just to hold it even without opening it. One of the "other book" authors wrote....
"Comfort experiences the presence of God in the presence of suffering- a presence that empowers me to survive scars and plants the seeds of hope that I will yet thrive. " Then this author shared that he wasn't necessarily thriving but rather limping...but at least he was no longer retreating!".
Well. There I am in a nutshell. Limping forward!!!!! Yay. It IS an accomplishment. While my biggest hope is, like that authors....to thrive well. I know I am not thriving well yet. But...I am doing better. Because I have only one loss that I am dealing with this second year. Mike. Not both Mike and god. So....yay for that. And I know that given more time (thinkin LOTS more time)...MY limp will go away too.
So this is to be a positive post. Because I am...actually feeling positive in "this" moment.
I think it's because of my being a Christian. I "feel" as if I should be much further along...much more "past" the overwhelming grief and sense of loss that remains with me. I'm better. I'm no longer drowning. I'm even walking on firm ground...not sand. And it is because of being a christian.
God IS in control. He DOES have something else for me (and...by the way.... that something else doesn't have to be a man. It could be service. friends. being His hands. it can be so many things).
My problem isn't in knowledge. I "know" a lot. It's that knowledge, even heart knowledge, is not a magic eraser.
The wonderful in all the awful.... is that God and I are entwined again. Because it is impossible to describe what that feels like to those who have not experienced the Holy Spirit, I won't try. But THAT relationship...that closeness....ahhhhhhhhhhh. Tears will start when I focus on it. And it has been so much more treasurable (if that's a word) because it was so absent, fought for and sought after....for so many of the past months! I had this relationship before Mike got sick. While Mike was sick. Right after Mike died. And then it just slipped and fell away... sinking like a lead balloon into depths where I couldn't even see Him. Leaving only a tremendously long, skinnnnnny thread tethering my heart to Him.
While initially I didn't care to even look at the thread, gradually I longed to have that relationship again. And for many months, I pulled on it, trying to restore and strengthen and SHORTEN that tie that bound me to Him. SOOOO relieved to have it restored to its nearly former self am I.
And then there's the other work my heart had to do along with the above. Live without Mike and survive it emotionally.
When I was younger, and had romances that didn't last or friends with romances that did and then...broke up. I was told that it takes half the length of the relationship before you're "over it". But then...that info was from the 1970's worldly pop-psychiatry.
God wasn't in their equation: relationship-duration-in-months divided by 2. Because if He was...then that equation leaves me wallowing in pain for another 13 1/2 years!
On top of working to restore the ultimate "tie that binds" to my Lord....and emotionally deal with not having my other half...I have had to deal with all the other "ties" that make up my life. And it can be exhausting. People tie me in knots too....not intentionally...it's just life. So many threads and ties to handle...and I basically felt more like a tangled up mess more often than not.
But still....better am I than my earlier blog posts. And yet...worse at the same time. I swear I am such an oxymoron!
This second year is so different and so much worse..in just a truly different way. It is that bottom line reality Mike really is ....GONE. Absent . From everything. From all the little things! Grocery lists, Meal planning, Meal eating, bill paying, vacation-making, repair-ing, automobile caring, income helping, bed sharing, text-receiving, phone calling, life-planning, conversation sharing. My life is so full of things to do and people to see. And totally empty at the same time.
Simply put..it sucks that Mike is not hear to share my myriad of moments. Because he always did...for 25 years of marriage and 5 years of being "best buds" before that. Some of my best memories are when we shared with each other ...the things that happened during the moments we were apart! I really miss the "how was your day's?" And coming home to Mike.
Nowadays, when I open the door it is only Gizmo, holding his leash in his mouth and vigorously wagging his tail, who greets me. Next Kiara will come over to rub against my legs and meow, quite loudly, for food. I set my keys down next to the fishbowls where both fish swim to the surface....hoping for food.
Thank the good Lord for these critters. I highly recommend everyone has a living creature in your home at all times. Even just a fish :). Something else that is alive!!
Because I type as my thoughts come....this thought just came. I so get the need to create "Wilson" from a soccer ball in that movie, Castaway, to keep sane. Next thought = but...you'd hope an island would at least have lizards or birds or something alive beyond just a soccer ball !
Moving on. I did a dis-service in my blog before when I said the books I received on dealing with grief during the first few weeks after Mikes death....weren't helpful. They weren't. At first. I was too ensconced in my own pain to want to read about the pain felt by others. And most were such thick tomes! But....in this SECOND year, they help! I am going through the thinner volumes first :). But I plan to work my way up to the really thick tomes. Currently I'm on the medium thick book, "Healing after Loss- Daily Meditations for working through Grief". It has some day reads that are perfectly on point. Others that are...hmmm, not really helpful. But I'm finding its good to have a go to each day that takes just a moment and hones in on what my life is wrestling with right now.
The other book is "God's healing for Life's Losses. How to find hope when you're hurting". Really good. I loved reading today that comfort used to mean "co-fortifying". Eg: Someone else fortifying you with their strength. And that the word, en-couraged, meant having courage poured into you from an outside source.
I've had that happen to me! I am so grateful. While I do like these books, the Bible is like a precious, tender friend. It gives me such comfort...just to hold it even without opening it. One of the "other book" authors wrote....
"Comfort experiences the presence of God in the presence of suffering- a presence that empowers me to survive scars and plants the seeds of hope that I will yet thrive. " Then this author shared that he wasn't necessarily thriving but rather limping...but at least he was no longer retreating!".
Well. There I am in a nutshell. Limping forward!!!!! Yay. It IS an accomplishment. While my biggest hope is, like that authors....to thrive well. I know I am not thriving well yet. But...I am doing better. Because I have only one loss that I am dealing with this second year. Mike. Not both Mike and god. So....yay for that. And I know that given more time (thinkin LOTS more time)...MY limp will go away too.
So this is to be a positive post. Because I am...actually feeling positive in "this" moment.
Saturday, May 2, 2015
Missing the surreal
May 2, 2015
It was easier...when Mike being dead was surreal. His death had had varying degrees of surreality to it for most all of the past 18 months. But for the past few weeks..the last wisps of the surreal have been swept away...like cobwebs. What is left ? A very cold and grey reality. The surreal fabric surrounding me and the girls had been thinning out steadily. So subtle though that I never realized just how protective it had been. Nor had the girls. But this is the truth of what happens midway through year two...at least for us. Surreal fades away in that second year until one day...all that remains is reality. And that reality, viewed without the protective coating of surreal-ness...is different. Coping is challenged...again.
Mike is gone. Life is continuing. Without him. Forever. Till I die. Reality containing this truth, sans surreal-ness, is stark. Wooden. Lifeless. And that is how best to describe the part of my heart that used to be a raw, bleeding, oozing, poignantly painful stump. I had thought that would eventually heal to where only a scar would remain. But it isn't a scar. A scar remains only on the surface. Below it the organs and tissues regenerate and heal. That hasn't happened. There is no scar. Instead, the part of my heart that used to be that raw stump....feels more like a piece of dead wood. All the way through. It is rare now that pain volcanically erupts from within my heart leaving me sobbing and feeling like I've been ripped in half. Instead, I experience shooting pains that come at me as if I'm a dartboard. The pains are like shards of glass. They come at me from the windshield as I pass a construction site or when a random, white cargo van pulls alongside of my car. They come from the radio when a song starts to play. They come from sidewalks lined with sawdust and plywood safety corridors. They come with the echo of hammers and saws or drills. And they come with photographs of times past. If it triggers a memory....it transforms into a knifelike shard of glass that comes at me unexpectedly and shoots pains like a dagger into my chest...then recedes and is gone.
The bottom line is that Memory Lane..... is a dangerous place to traverse. And it's not the memories that I have to avoid...it is the triggers! Which is pretty nigh impossible because you don't know what it might be...a smell...a sight...a sound. And you never know the when of it's arrival. The easiest to avoid, normally...are going through pictures of a life that isn't! Sigh. Unfortunately...that has not been possible this past couple of weeks since my laptop gave out. That necessitated buying a new one. Which happened to be a Mac. Which resulted in iCloud flooding into my new laptop literally hundreds of old pictures. A huge unorganized flood that needed to be painstakingly reviewed and placed into new and appropriately labeled folders.
Between time and all the pictures....the last protective threads of Mikes death being surreal painfully disintegrated. I know intellectually that "someday" I will be able to go through pictures of Mike and I in times past...and be filled with sweet nostalgia. That ...is not now. And I am not yet done organizing this laptop and its myriad of photos. (heavier sigh).
In addition to dealing anew with a stark reality uncushioned by the surreal....
I realize I have another area of grief that remains a challenge. Sadly, I am not yet done feeling resentful. This is most unfortunate. Because it is God whom I continue to resent. Which makes me feel like I'm two different people. Or...Two-faced. Because ....I can hold hands with Jesus. And, with my right hand, I squeeze His hand holding mine. And the Holy Spirit fills me and gratitude wells up toward Him in abundance. I can feel my Lord holding me up. I know He lifts me like parents lift a child between them over particularly sharp boulders to keep me from stumbling and falling face first as we walk (God patiently and I stumbling awkwardly) along this rocky path of my life.
But my left hand....well that is irritatingly throwing itself up in the air at God. Brushing away His offered hand whenever the realization that Mike is ....gone!....forever...floods my consciousness or bears down on me as I awaken in the morning and again realize...I'm alone in the bed. Resentment churns. Would it have really killed you God? To let Mike and I have that weekend? That time for us to be alone together without the demands of work and the mundane and chemo and fatigue and ...even family...coming into play? That time for us to have the "deep" conversations that were usually crowded out in those chaotic four months between diagnosis and death. Where I could've found closure. I don't feel I have that. And that...is why I think I am having such a hard time forgiving God. Not for taking Mike. But for not allowing me and Mike to have that weekend. Planned not even 24 hours before the death knell fell cutting short the months we thought we had left and leaving us instead...7 days.
I've written about this need before. And so I still am dealing with resenting God that I didn't get that one on one time alone with Mike....beautifully and finally uncluttered by work commitments, family and the mundane.
I don't want to talk about this need out loud because it triggers this reflex within others to utter the usual god-isms. They feel they are untrue to God to not make sure that "I do recognize" that God "knows best" and "His timing is perfect" and "I will find someday why this timing was perfect" and "must trust" etcetera. So I don't want to hear what I already know and the knowing of which...doesn't help one whit. Truth doesn't help resentment fade. I am still searching for what does that. Forgiveness doesn't happen. It's a decision. Deciding to forgive I have done and yet it hasn't yet erased my resentment. So...maybe my decision isn't true? Or...maybe forgiving isn't the component that erases resentment. It's a bit of a muddle. I'm still working through. What I do know is that knowing the truth of the various god-isms ...doesn't make resentment disappear. I think somewhere in my heart of hearts...I don't actually believe that God really did what was 'best' for me. Intellectually I do. But in my heart...I still believe He "could have" allowed us that weekend and it wouldn't made such a huge difference in the grand scheme of things that he was justified in not letting us have it. So...it hurts and I have to deal with the result of my belief which is...resentment.
Yes, yes, yes...to all my wonderful christian friends. I agree with all the totally true god-isms my admission of disbelief His decision really was best for me triggers in well-meaning hearts.
Being truthful to myself is hard. Being truthful with God is pretty moot...when you realize He already knows what I have to admit before I even do. I believe God is using this time to show me layers of trust in our relationship that must be peeled away. And that...well that is okay. I actually do trust that God knew why it was best for Mike to die at this time in his, mine, and the girls lives. And I actually do believe that Mike is soo happy in heaven.
And so it goes...
I went to a "Joy Prom" a week ago . Joy Proms are put on for the mentally challenged. I was partnered with a sweet 72 year old gent who was at his first-ever "Joy Prom" and tickled to death to get food and to dance. (But mostly about the food :). Wouldn't you know, they had to play, "Color My World". The song Mike and I danced to at our wedding for our "first dance". And they didn't play it just once. THREE times! So there I am, rocking back and forth and smiling with the sweetest little 72 year old man ever...who wears this huge smile while I am stabbed and stabbed and stabbed.
Now here is where it is weird. When I think about Mike and talk to him in the here and now...it isn't painful. Sad. But not painful. Even heartwarming depending on what I am saying to him in my head and what I am imagining Mike saying back. But not painful. Whereas recalling PAST memories and times spend with him...those are not new. Are not current. And they are the daggers that I want to avoid.
So the second time the song, "Color My World" came on...I talked with Mike. Even imagined him digging me with his elbow and winking at me while he teased me about dancing the song with "another man". That dance, filled with my meandering musings and this "conversation" and mental imagery between me and an unseen Mike...is a memory that I treasure. It did not bring pain! I was ..heartwarmingly sad and happy at the same time.
What is mind-boggling really....is that the Lord is okay that I need more time to forgive Him. I know He is aware I need more time to deal with this hole in my life and with missing Mike. But that He doesn't withhold even the smallest iota of comfort from me while I go through all the above conflicting emotions and steps still amazes me. Which is why I cry in church and in the car when I sing worship songs. It is unbelievable...given all I admit to re; resentment and such that even with that all still happening inside my heart....there Jesus is...helping me up into His lap. Showering mercy and grace into my heart. His is an amazing and unconditional love. Which those who do not know Him....are so sadly unaware of. My love and appreciation....obviously conditional.
So I am living life right now....dead in one part of me. Trying to avoid external triggers of memories. Comforted by Jesus moment by interrupted moment. Working on loving God as unconditionally as He does me and forgiving him and letting go of lingering resentment. And living a life where it's not all deadness and grief. I daily have lengthy periods where I am actually happy. They are the hours and minutes when I am not thinking about the fact Mike is gone. The ones where I am blissfully not aware that particular moment in time that....Mike will not be home when I get home. Will not be eating with me. Will not be watching TV with me. Will not be calling or texting me. Will not....be. Those unaware moments ..are the good ones.
It was easier...when Mike being dead was surreal. His death had had varying degrees of surreality to it for most all of the past 18 months. But for the past few weeks..the last wisps of the surreal have been swept away...like cobwebs. What is left ? A very cold and grey reality. The surreal fabric surrounding me and the girls had been thinning out steadily. So subtle though that I never realized just how protective it had been. Nor had the girls. But this is the truth of what happens midway through year two...at least for us. Surreal fades away in that second year until one day...all that remains is reality. And that reality, viewed without the protective coating of surreal-ness...is different. Coping is challenged...again.
Mike is gone. Life is continuing. Without him. Forever. Till I die. Reality containing this truth, sans surreal-ness, is stark. Wooden. Lifeless. And that is how best to describe the part of my heart that used to be a raw, bleeding, oozing, poignantly painful stump. I had thought that would eventually heal to where only a scar would remain. But it isn't a scar. A scar remains only on the surface. Below it the organs and tissues regenerate and heal. That hasn't happened. There is no scar. Instead, the part of my heart that used to be that raw stump....feels more like a piece of dead wood. All the way through. It is rare now that pain volcanically erupts from within my heart leaving me sobbing and feeling like I've been ripped in half. Instead, I experience shooting pains that come at me as if I'm a dartboard. The pains are like shards of glass. They come at me from the windshield as I pass a construction site or when a random, white cargo van pulls alongside of my car. They come from the radio when a song starts to play. They come from sidewalks lined with sawdust and plywood safety corridors. They come with the echo of hammers and saws or drills. And they come with photographs of times past. If it triggers a memory....it transforms into a knifelike shard of glass that comes at me unexpectedly and shoots pains like a dagger into my chest...then recedes and is gone.
The bottom line is that Memory Lane..... is a dangerous place to traverse. And it's not the memories that I have to avoid...it is the triggers! Which is pretty nigh impossible because you don't know what it might be...a smell...a sight...a sound. And you never know the when of it's arrival. The easiest to avoid, normally...are going through pictures of a life that isn't! Sigh. Unfortunately...that has not been possible this past couple of weeks since my laptop gave out. That necessitated buying a new one. Which happened to be a Mac. Which resulted in iCloud flooding into my new laptop literally hundreds of old pictures. A huge unorganized flood that needed to be painstakingly reviewed and placed into new and appropriately labeled folders.
Between time and all the pictures....the last protective threads of Mikes death being surreal painfully disintegrated. I know intellectually that "someday" I will be able to go through pictures of Mike and I in times past...and be filled with sweet nostalgia. That ...is not now. And I am not yet done organizing this laptop and its myriad of photos. (heavier sigh).
In addition to dealing anew with a stark reality uncushioned by the surreal....
I realize I have another area of grief that remains a challenge. Sadly, I am not yet done feeling resentful. This is most unfortunate. Because it is God whom I continue to resent. Which makes me feel like I'm two different people. Or...Two-faced. Because ....I can hold hands with Jesus. And, with my right hand, I squeeze His hand holding mine. And the Holy Spirit fills me and gratitude wells up toward Him in abundance. I can feel my Lord holding me up. I know He lifts me like parents lift a child between them over particularly sharp boulders to keep me from stumbling and falling face first as we walk (God patiently and I stumbling awkwardly) along this rocky path of my life.
But my left hand....well that is irritatingly throwing itself up in the air at God. Brushing away His offered hand whenever the realization that Mike is ....gone!....forever...floods my consciousness or bears down on me as I awaken in the morning and again realize...I'm alone in the bed. Resentment churns. Would it have really killed you God? To let Mike and I have that weekend? That time for us to be alone together without the demands of work and the mundane and chemo and fatigue and ...even family...coming into play? That time for us to have the "deep" conversations that were usually crowded out in those chaotic four months between diagnosis and death. Where I could've found closure. I don't feel I have that. And that...is why I think I am having such a hard time forgiving God. Not for taking Mike. But for not allowing me and Mike to have that weekend. Planned not even 24 hours before the death knell fell cutting short the months we thought we had left and leaving us instead...7 days.
I've written about this need before. And so I still am dealing with resenting God that I didn't get that one on one time alone with Mike....beautifully and finally uncluttered by work commitments, family and the mundane.
I don't want to talk about this need out loud because it triggers this reflex within others to utter the usual god-isms. They feel they are untrue to God to not make sure that "I do recognize" that God "knows best" and "His timing is perfect" and "I will find someday why this timing was perfect" and "must trust" etcetera. So I don't want to hear what I already know and the knowing of which...doesn't help one whit. Truth doesn't help resentment fade. I am still searching for what does that. Forgiveness doesn't happen. It's a decision. Deciding to forgive I have done and yet it hasn't yet erased my resentment. So...maybe my decision isn't true? Or...maybe forgiving isn't the component that erases resentment. It's a bit of a muddle. I'm still working through. What I do know is that knowing the truth of the various god-isms ...doesn't make resentment disappear. I think somewhere in my heart of hearts...I don't actually believe that God really did what was 'best' for me. Intellectually I do. But in my heart...I still believe He "could have" allowed us that weekend and it wouldn't made such a huge difference in the grand scheme of things that he was justified in not letting us have it. So...it hurts and I have to deal with the result of my belief which is...resentment.
Yes, yes, yes...to all my wonderful christian friends. I agree with all the totally true god-isms my admission of disbelief His decision really was best for me triggers in well-meaning hearts.
Being truthful to myself is hard. Being truthful with God is pretty moot...when you realize He already knows what I have to admit before I even do. I believe God is using this time to show me layers of trust in our relationship that must be peeled away. And that...well that is okay. I actually do trust that God knew why it was best for Mike to die at this time in his, mine, and the girls lives. And I actually do believe that Mike is soo happy in heaven.
And so it goes...
I went to a "Joy Prom" a week ago . Joy Proms are put on for the mentally challenged. I was partnered with a sweet 72 year old gent who was at his first-ever "Joy Prom" and tickled to death to get food and to dance. (But mostly about the food :). Wouldn't you know, they had to play, "Color My World". The song Mike and I danced to at our wedding for our "first dance". And they didn't play it just once. THREE times! So there I am, rocking back and forth and smiling with the sweetest little 72 year old man ever...who wears this huge smile while I am stabbed and stabbed and stabbed.
Now here is where it is weird. When I think about Mike and talk to him in the here and now...it isn't painful. Sad. But not painful. Even heartwarming depending on what I am saying to him in my head and what I am imagining Mike saying back. But not painful. Whereas recalling PAST memories and times spend with him...those are not new. Are not current. And they are the daggers that I want to avoid.
So the second time the song, "Color My World" came on...I talked with Mike. Even imagined him digging me with his elbow and winking at me while he teased me about dancing the song with "another man". That dance, filled with my meandering musings and this "conversation" and mental imagery between me and an unseen Mike...is a memory that I treasure. It did not bring pain! I was ..heartwarmingly sad and happy at the same time.
What is mind-boggling really....is that the Lord is okay that I need more time to forgive Him. I know He is aware I need more time to deal with this hole in my life and with missing Mike. But that He doesn't withhold even the smallest iota of comfort from me while I go through all the above conflicting emotions and steps still amazes me. Which is why I cry in church and in the car when I sing worship songs. It is unbelievable...given all I admit to re; resentment and such that even with that all still happening inside my heart....there Jesus is...helping me up into His lap. Showering mercy and grace into my heart. His is an amazing and unconditional love. Which those who do not know Him....are so sadly unaware of. My love and appreciation....obviously conditional.
So I am living life right now....dead in one part of me. Trying to avoid external triggers of memories. Comforted by Jesus moment by interrupted moment. Working on loving God as unconditionally as He does me and forgiving him and letting go of lingering resentment. And living a life where it's not all deadness and grief. I daily have lengthy periods where I am actually happy. They are the hours and minutes when I am not thinking about the fact Mike is gone. The ones where I am blissfully not aware that particular moment in time that....Mike will not be home when I get home. Will not be eating with me. Will not be watching TV with me. Will not be calling or texting me. Will not....be. Those unaware moments ..are the good ones.
Sunday, April 19, 2015
turning a page...or two...or not.
Maybe, and it is a big "maybe"... I'm finally ready to read some of the books on grief that friends gave me in the weeks after Mike died. I got several. Between the insanity which was life during those immediate weeks following Mikes passing, and...the myriad crazy of emotions which followed those weeks... the thought of reading other people's "wise counsel" (whether wise only in their own estimation was something I wondered. For grief varies I believe because the who that died, the extent they occupied your life, the how's of their interactions with you and...the way they die...are not the same from one person to the next. Knowing that and trying to survive being ripped in two left me eyeing them with painful distaste. I've no desire to be a masochist. No desire to add to to the knives tearing into my heart. But, there was one book. I did read one. A Christian pastor wrote of what he'd gone through in his walk with God and in his life after losing his wife. I liked it. But there was a specific reason that caused me to read it. THIN! It was a blessedly skinny little book. It took only a few hours to read it. But all the other ones...fat devotionals. Thick hardcover books relating how one grows through suffering. Heavy and large books relating the journeys of others...who probably have little in common with my own circumstances. Those ones... remained on the shelf. Gathering dust. For 18 months.
A couple days ago, I actually looked again at those books. Read each title on each dusty spine. Because Michael's mom asked if I had any books to donate to a charity several days ago. So... I went to my bookshelf...long ignored. Ugh! So darn fat they still are! But one book caught my eye . I pulled it off the shelf. Pretty skinny. Could be described as actually starving compared to the others. I opened to the table of contents. Hmmm.
Maybe. It now resides on my bedside table. A step closer to possibly being read. Emotionally, I am still not sure if I'll read it. Physically, I am so aware of so many other physical demands on my time. There are other books still waiting on that same bedside table to be read. Intellectually, I know I "should maybe sort of ...probably" read it.
This past week has been unusually tough. Unexpectedly. Lots of crying. The memory triggers are EVERYWHERE . All I want is to retreat from the world. But that.. has been almost impossible. One day. Just one! One day where I can stay in pajamas, and not have to talk or see or deal with anyone or anything! Impossible. I tried. But...the rental house would abruptly have a repair need. Or a phone call would come with a need I had to meet immediately. Or business issues reared their head...go to the bank, make this call, answer this email. Bring this tool here Drive there. Every day, something. Frustration mixed with depression. The past week has derailed my diet . But only some. It's not crushed. I actually don't care. I know I will get the motivation back...so continue to not care so much. A hiccup.
I think the trip to Japan accompanied the day after my return by the car accident which then necessitated repeated visits to Dr's and chiropractors and car dealerships and so much "ugh" which came when I was already 3 weeks behind in rental business and emails and snail mail plus the usual"daily life" hamster wheel ...simply threw me.
Emotionally and stress-wise. Maybe those are reasons behind why these past two weeks have been so bad.
I talked with Amie. She's having it too. Not sure why our unexpected painful recalls and rut in our paths of grief have coincided...but they have. Praying for her. And Katie. And...I then throw me into the prayer at the end. So MANY memories.
I did find a source of encouragement from a person I never expected would have inspired me. There's this little magazine I've subscribed to for years. Another of the "need to read" items on that aforementioned bedside table ;). I've always loved it. It's been inspiring me ever since I first came to Christ with heart held open at age 19. In fact, that little monthly magazine had a lot to do with my realization that "something" was "missing" in my own life and relationship with Jesus. It's called Guideposts.
So here I am reading a recent issue . They're easy reads! Full of stories that take only 5-10 minutes. The perfect lunch break or bathroom read :). In this issue was a story that shared about a woman who daily prayed the same prayer passed down to her by her Mom. Each morning after
waking, she prayed, "Lord Jesus, thank you for what has been (in my life) . Thank you for what is now (in my life). Thank you for what will be (in my life).
The surprise wasn't that an article in Guidepost had inspired me. That's pretty commonplace. It was that the author of that story, the one who daily said that prayer...was Carrie Ann Inaba. A judge on Dancing with the Stars. Not only did I get reminded in that prayer of all I have to be grateful for...but that I reluctantly admit I didn't expect her to be a Christian of strong faith. I judged based on the shows costumes and an industry that doesn't always reek of modesty :).
Yet, Carrie Ann Inaba gave me a prayer that I copied down, put on the dash of my car, and look at every day.
I recognize that I desperately need Jesus. Always. But specially now...this day. I So love Him. So grateful He loves more. And .... I recognize I am tiptoeing around depression. Not just grief. Not just pain. Not just sadness.
Sigh. What to do. Could start taking the acai supplements. A two week stint has always helped in the past when I felt this way. Okay...will do that. But...The long term answer is more of Jesus ...far more. His hug. The Holy Spirit. My Father. Ahhhhh. Just typing out my need brings a wave of adoration and His warmth kindled. But....it remains like waves that wash over you and then return to the sea. Only to wash over you again...and then receed...again. But faith and our relationship with God is not to be based upon feelings. I know that. Satan can sway feelings. But I don't want waves. What I want...is submersion. And unless I can be like Job, Elijah, Samuel, Elisha or my Lord....I will not come close. I can hope to come as close as David, or Peter. those apostles were flawed. Reassuring. Sometimes even... I am far too much like Thomas (which I hate to admit). But even he remained true unto death. Again....Reassuring. :)
So...off to get an acai capsule. I probably should look into volunteering to get my mind off of me, if I can see where to fit that in right now. I love sporadic volunteer opportunities. Those are flexible and can fit my life much more easily than a weekly commitment. Those don't work well within the whirlwind vortex of unpredictability that is my life right now. Maybe...I will open that book on my bedside table to chapter one. And the best thing would be if I get better at opening the
best 26 books that exist under the sun....those in the Bible. So much improving to be done. It's ironic that the path to the one which will have the biggest effect...involves opening a very, very. fat book. 26 chapters! Gotta love irony. Lol
A couple days ago, I actually looked again at those books. Read each title on each dusty spine. Because Michael's mom asked if I had any books to donate to a charity several days ago. So... I went to my bookshelf...long ignored. Ugh! So darn fat they still are! But one book caught my eye . I pulled it off the shelf. Pretty skinny. Could be described as actually starving compared to the others. I opened to the table of contents. Hmmm.
Maybe. It now resides on my bedside table. A step closer to possibly being read. Emotionally, I am still not sure if I'll read it. Physically, I am so aware of so many other physical demands on my time. There are other books still waiting on that same bedside table to be read. Intellectually, I know I "should maybe sort of ...probably" read it.
This past week has been unusually tough. Unexpectedly. Lots of crying. The memory triggers are EVERYWHERE . All I want is to retreat from the world. But that.. has been almost impossible. One day. Just one! One day where I can stay in pajamas, and not have to talk or see or deal with anyone or anything! Impossible. I tried. But...the rental house would abruptly have a repair need. Or a phone call would come with a need I had to meet immediately. Or business issues reared their head...go to the bank, make this call, answer this email. Bring this tool here Drive there. Every day, something. Frustration mixed with depression. The past week has derailed my diet . But only some. It's not crushed. I actually don't care. I know I will get the motivation back...so continue to not care so much. A hiccup.
I think the trip to Japan accompanied the day after my return by the car accident which then necessitated repeated visits to Dr's and chiropractors and car dealerships and so much "ugh" which came when I was already 3 weeks behind in rental business and emails and snail mail plus the usual"daily life" hamster wheel ...simply threw me.
Emotionally and stress-wise. Maybe those are reasons behind why these past two weeks have been so bad.
I talked with Amie. She's having it too. Not sure why our unexpected painful recalls and rut in our paths of grief have coincided...but they have. Praying for her. And Katie. And...I then throw me into the prayer at the end. So MANY memories.
I did find a source of encouragement from a person I never expected would have inspired me. There's this little magazine I've subscribed to for years. Another of the "need to read" items on that aforementioned bedside table ;). I've always loved it. It's been inspiring me ever since I first came to Christ with heart held open at age 19. In fact, that little monthly magazine had a lot to do with my realization that "something" was "missing" in my own life and relationship with Jesus. It's called Guideposts.
So here I am reading a recent issue . They're easy reads! Full of stories that take only 5-10 minutes. The perfect lunch break or bathroom read :). In this issue was a story that shared about a woman who daily prayed the same prayer passed down to her by her Mom. Each morning after
waking, she prayed, "Lord Jesus, thank you for what has been (in my life) . Thank you for what is now (in my life). Thank you for what will be (in my life).
The surprise wasn't that an article in Guidepost had inspired me. That's pretty commonplace. It was that the author of that story, the one who daily said that prayer...was Carrie Ann Inaba. A judge on Dancing with the Stars. Not only did I get reminded in that prayer of all I have to be grateful for...but that I reluctantly admit I didn't expect her to be a Christian of strong faith. I judged based on the shows costumes and an industry that doesn't always reek of modesty :).
Yet, Carrie Ann Inaba gave me a prayer that I copied down, put on the dash of my car, and look at every day.
I recognize that I desperately need Jesus. Always. But specially now...this day. I So love Him. So grateful He loves more. And .... I recognize I am tiptoeing around depression. Not just grief. Not just pain. Not just sadness.
Sigh. What to do. Could start taking the acai supplements. A two week stint has always helped in the past when I felt this way. Okay...will do that. But...The long term answer is more of Jesus ...far more. His hug. The Holy Spirit. My Father. Ahhhhh. Just typing out my need brings a wave of adoration and His warmth kindled. But....it remains like waves that wash over you and then return to the sea. Only to wash over you again...and then receed...again. But faith and our relationship with God is not to be based upon feelings. I know that. Satan can sway feelings. But I don't want waves. What I want...is submersion. And unless I can be like Job, Elijah, Samuel, Elisha or my Lord....I will not come close. I can hope to come as close as David, or Peter. those apostles were flawed. Reassuring. Sometimes even... I am far too much like Thomas (which I hate to admit). But even he remained true unto death. Again....Reassuring. :)
So...off to get an acai capsule. I probably should look into volunteering to get my mind off of me, if I can see where to fit that in right now. I love sporadic volunteer opportunities. Those are flexible and can fit my life much more easily than a weekly commitment. Those don't work well within the whirlwind vortex of unpredictability that is my life right now. Maybe...I will open that book on my bedside table to chapter one. And the best thing would be if I get better at opening the
best 26 books that exist under the sun....those in the Bible. So much improving to be done. It's ironic that the path to the one which will have the biggest effect...involves opening a very, very. fat book. 26 chapters! Gotta love irony. Lol
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