It's a new year. The first year I will experience without my son in this world and the second year without my husband. Amazing. Unsettling. Frightening. Exciting. Exciting? EXCITING? Did I mistype? Did you misread? Nope, not at all. As recently as 5 days ago I didn't think that was possible, but it is. I've been absent from this blog for too long. It is good therapy and someone very wise reminded me of that last night. And so I'll try to catch you up quickly and then I can explain my new state of mind.
Over Labor Day weekend I flew to Norfolk, Virginia to attend a TAPS seminar. TAPS is Tragedy Assistance Program for Survivors and exclusively for military survivors. They are beyond amazing in that each one is a survivor and committed to helping everyone who comes their way feel and know that they have found somewhere to be understood, They provide the most encouraging, supportive ideals for going forward that I have yet to experience. It was an overwhelming weekend, hard to do alone, but so well worth it. The first thing that hit me was when I arrived at the hotel and realized I had no one to call to say I had arrived safely. Ouch! That hurt.
I think that weekend was instrumental in helping me move past the shock of the deaths of my beloved husband and son and begin to move into the reality of what my life is now. I know that I have much to live for. I know that there is joy and life and I feel it with the rest of my family and friends. But I also know that I have a lot of work to learn how to cope with the surprise instances that bring me to my knees.
So I begin a chapter I will call "Organized Chaos". Organized in the sense that most who encountered me over the summer and fall would see a woman who may have wounded eyes if you looked closely, but a woman who was happy to spend time with her friends getting pedis, having dinner, going on little road trips and who could laugh and engage pretty much as if tragedy had not struck once but twice so recently. Chaos, because privately, when alone, all motivation and drive and direction was absent. There were days when I couldn't get out of bed. Living alone in a home that should now be spotless because no one but me was here, became dusty and cluttered. It took all my energy to be out among the people. It took all my energy to act as if I was one tough cookie and I was moving past the devastation that touched my life. People needed me to be okay and that's what I wanted to give them. I sell my family and friends short. They don't need me to be okay for them, they want me to be okay for me. But it's taken time to realize that.
I have a very good grief therapist and lots of support and reading material from TAPS. I knew that if I kept trying to be okay before I was I was only prolonging the grief process. So, with the people I trusted most (you know who you are!) I allowed myself to give in to the tears when they hit. I embraced the moments as they hit me. I've cried a lot. I've learned that crying with glasses on leaves salt stains on your lenses when you cry hard enough that the tears splash from your cheeks. My glasses have been smudged a good bit of the time. I don't know if it's true or not but I've been told that tears cried due to grief release toxins from your body. It's nice to believe because it makes it easier to let them flow. (Hope they don't pit my glasses lens' though!)
And then come the holidays. Happy this, merry that. Lots of well intended suggestions about what to do and how to do it. I made a choice that was difficult but proved to be exactly what the doctor would have ordered. I decided to run away. Not seeing my grandchildren on Christmas seemed inconceivable, but we all had a day together to have our own Christmas before I left. It was perfect. Did I miss Adam and Dave - of course. But missing them didn't overshadow the joy of being with those who are still here with me and who went out of there way to be there with and for me. That is being blessed!
I ran away to Seattle to spend my first Christmas with my baby sister in a very, very long time. It was so wonderful. They were excited to have me and I was excited to be there. Lots of things to do and lots of nice quiet time at home. A perfect balance. Whew! I made it through Christmas in much better shape than I imagined possible.
But watch out! It's not the landmarks that you get anxious over, I'm finding, are the events that take your feet out from under you. It's the ones you don't see coming. I was much worse on MY birthday than I had been on Dave's. Christmas was managed nicely, but New Year's Eve took the breath from my soul. I did not want to go into a year that Adam did not exist in. It struck me like a ton of bricks as I stopped at the cemetery on my way to bring in the new year with my other two sisters, their families and part of my family. I cried most of the way from the cemetery to Indy. (Not a good idea in heavy traffic!)
In Indy, on New Year's Eve, I met Oliver. My first great-nephew, born on Christmas Eve. I remember thinking when he was born that his birth was the perfect example of the Circle of Life. He is a beautiful child and I couldn't be happier for my niece and her husband, along with her brother and parents. The weekend was lovely, with a little exception. Sometimes there are people in your life who cannot understand you and conversely you can't understand them. I don't think that necessitates coming out with guns blazing, but better to retreat and see if time and hopefully cooler heads can work things out. So with that on my mind, after a yet another lovely time with those I love, I headed home to face a new year.
It was a beautiful drive home. I was listening to Adele's new CD and was quite taken with it. And at the last minute I decided to turn back into the cemetery on my way home. And that's when it hit me, how to cope with this year without my son, and the second year without my husband. I drove onto hallowed grounds in that National Cemetery, wandering between the graves of those who sacrificed much for us to have the ability to live as we choose in this nation. Not all died in that service, but they all gave a good portion of their life. And I as I well know now, so did their families. So how to honor my son and husband and these patriots I walked among? Live. LIVE!!!! Embrace my life and do it with a vengeance. The only way to honor them is to live with purpose, passion, kindness and love. Be smart, be safe, but be adventurous, try new things, learn new things. As I stood at my son's grave and spoke out loud of this realization the wind picked up and blew strongly through the trees until I was finished. It then died almost simultaneously with my last word and remained very still. I smiled, kissed the top of that headstone as I always do and climbed back into my car. And for the first time in 2016 could say "Happy New Year" and mean it!
The grief will always be part of my life. I don't believe it goes away. I believe you learn to adapt to it. I will still slip into quicksand from time to time, but I'm learning how to save myself, and it's through the love I still have to give to those two men. It's a little bit sad that I didn't realize immediately that I was worth that, but realizing that they're worth it allowed me to believe that there are magical things ahead in this life. I know there are. And there will continue to be sad things. But I will get up every morning and do my best to live, for them, for me, and for many others who sacrificed so that we can experience all this world has to offer. So with that, I wish you all the best this new year has to offer. Happy 2016!!!!
