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.