“I thought I could describe a state; make a map of sorrow. Sorrow, however, turns out to be not a state but a process.”
“For in grief nothing “stays put.” One keeps on emerging from a phase, but it always recurs. Round and round. Everything repeats. Am I going in circles, or dare I hope I am on a spiral?
But if a spiral, am I going up or down it?
How often — will it be for always? — how often will the vast emptiness astonish me like a complete novelty and make me say, “I never realized my loss till this moment”? The same leg is cut off time after time.”
― C.S. Lewis, A Grief Observed
Everyone says Grief comes in waves. You can be very good for a few days straight, then suddenly you find yourself knocked on your head, flailing underwater, gasping for air. And then that goes too, in its own time. It’s shocking how quickly the feelings can change too. I was doing great all weekend, I was with friends, there were almost blissful moments of random memory rushing to the surface. I let it all happen, I tried to enjoy. And then, without warning, comes the crash. And I just want to sleep and cry. I get up again for the kids though, when its’ time to fetch them. And they help me see my vague purpose again, they give me a job to do, someone to worry over (trying not to, but sometimes I do.)
Someone mentioned beside the grief, that there could be a bit of PTSD going on, in the sense that after operating on such a traumatic level, outside of our default capabilities, we now are having a hard time transitioning to the land of the living. We have to become different people than we were during that time, and we are just at the beginning of that process. But we are also finally allowed to grieve what we couldn’t as long as Vernon was with us. As much as we tried to be realistic, we still held hope within our hearts that somehow he would somehow get better. Maki has said that he doesn’t ‘feel like himself’ sometimes. I think I know what he means. He said he could relate to this quote:
“There is a sort of invisible blanket between the world and me. I find it hard to take in what anyone says. Or perhaps, hard to want to take it in. It is so uninteresting. Yet I want the others to be about me. I dread the moments when the house is empty. If only they would talk to one another and not to me.”
― C.S. Lewis, A Grief Observed
But then, it passes…at least for me. I believe for the kids too…especially Justine, who is easiest for me to read. It’s hard to watch the kids have to deal with this, but then…I always think: “I know so many people who lost their parents when they were young. They still became confident, well-adjusted adults, for the most part. I know people who have lost their spouses: some remarried, some did not. They still found their way in the world and found their way joyfully, despite the pain of loss they may often still feel. Sometimes I get very angry, but I don’t feel entitled to have him alive with us. (Maybe because we already let him go somewhat over the past couple of years?) I’m understanding this death thing is really a part of life, no one escapes it. It happens to be our family’s turn to deal with it. It sucks though.
Today, after writing this piece, I will get back to the pile of envelopes and bills to sort out. It’s been sitting there for weeks, I just keep shuffling it into different piles. Today, I moved it all the living-room from the office, in order to clear out a work space for Maki. If it weren’t for him, that pile would keep growing. But the fact is: I’ve moved it! Progress! We’re getting somewhere. I’m doing really well this morning, feeling focused, energized. I better get done what I can before the next wave of surprise emotion hits and I won’t be able to anything except look after the kids.
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as always allison, hugs and prayers are with you, maki and justine…
One day at a time. Sometimes a few minutes at a time. Prayers continue. So glad you are still sharing.
Whoever told you about the PTSD was really insightful. I’ve thought a lot about your transition from your life over the past two years with Vernon and now your life without him….and how that would be such a shock and possibly invoke thoughts like, “Well, what NOW??”. Keep writing so that we can support you where you are and hopefully at least somewhat negate feelings of loneliness. As for your piles, do you have any friends in your area that might come over and help you through those? For me, when I get overwhelmed with something, it helps to have someone who won’t judge me there by my side walking through it with me and helping me along….even leading the way.
That quote is very good, thats how I felt last year when my dad died, and I got so tired of it. And it was even exhausting being that person who either had to talk about it or to talk about something else (when I talked about something else it didnt feel important.) There is not much you can say anyway, for years there was always so much you could say about my dad, but now when he’s gone all “the drama” is gone. It might be some comfort to you that I feel much, much stronger now even though it still feels fresh. – I even feel stronger than before. The strangest thing is that we can go on living and thinking they are now “looking down” at us without really being affected by it. It reminds me how ignorant we are and makes me realize that we don’t understand much. But one day we’ll know. Much love
Today your writing and great quotes were helping me. It was only Sept. 4 that I lost my Betty and I fell in love with her when she was 15 and she dies at 82. Thankfully we lived a full wonderful life of loving each other and now our only small children are grand and great grandchildren. You are an amazing girl, and my heart goes out to you overtime I see your name.
The book “A Grief Obseved” was a life changer for me. It explained so much of the mystery, the untangible pain of grief I went through 9 years ago. When my ex-husband betrayed me and left me, it was if someone had died. It was as if the dream of my future (the life I knew) died with his disappearance. I would read the book, and over and over again….and fall back to this one particular quote:
“There are moments, most unexpectedly, when something inside me tries to assure me that I don’t really mind so much, not so very much, after all. Love is not the whole of a man’s life….People get over these things….Then comes a sudden jab of red-hot memory and all this ‘commensense’ vanishes like an ant in the mouth of a furnace.”
That’s what my grief felt like….this unexpainable moment when I could not talk myself into being a brave woman. I was a lost little girl who was repeatedly surprised by these ‘red-hot jabs’ that came out of the blue, that threw me back into the furnace. And truly all my commonsense was POOF, gone.
Once I began to be able to anticipate them….. these “furnace moments” (Somewhat of course!), I started developing a ‘plan’ for different occurances when I might be faced with one. Yes, the surprise moments of a photo falling out of book might happen, or a question someone might ask me would throw me off. But, I decided that I could not continue to be the ant at the door of a furnace, ready to be sucked into the fire. I had to survive.
Allison,
Go as you can and it is a hard thing to bear. Just keep up your writing so will be hear to help you if we can at all. Justine and Maki are such smart and bright children and with your loving help they can grow into great adults. Prayers are still coming your way. Just remember that God is always there to help you.
Becky
Allison It was good to read your blog today. I still let myself just cry when it comes. Most of the time there isn’t a darn thing you can do about it! Today is the anniversary of my little sister going to be with the Lord 2 years ago. It just helps me so much to think about where she is now and how happy and set free she is and especially that I will be joining her someday. I am so thankful that Jesus made a way for this reunion to happen. Both Joe and I think of you so much and what your going through. I remember being in the fog and feeling like I wasn’t really there, but slowly I began to show up again and be my old self again….never quite the same but comfortable. Love, Nancy and Joe
All our love Allison. You need your time to grieve, for you had been going, and going for so long. Prayers and hugs for you, Maki, and Justine.