I haven’t been at this for a while and I feel it. Whether I publish it or not, I need to get
things out, down on paper. It’s like
sweeping all the cobwebs lurking in my mind.
If left in the corner too long, they catch other thoughts within them
and they all get tangled up and pretty soon it’s so overwhelming you let the
spiders take over. Okay, well maybe that’s
a little extreme for most of the time, but there are days I do feel as if the
black creepy things are winning.
This is just such a crazy existence. 20 months ago today my husband kissed me for the
last time. It seems like yesterday. It seems like forever. I miss him more as time goes by. I found this to be true with others who have
died that suffered prior to their death, namely my Dad and Grandma. It took some time for all the good, pretty
memories to overcome the sadness, pain, changes and suffering that had been
present at the end. The sudden deaths,
such as my mother and son cut like a knife from the start, since no one had an
inkling; as if you could prepare anyway if you did. There is the humane element in hating to
watch those you love suffer, and therefore, in the moment maybe it’s a tad
easier to let go. But never fear. I’m learning that grief is the great dark hunter. It will come for you. It will track you down and get you and demand
its rightful share of your life.
I have been working hard, trying to embrace it and give it its
fair share. But either grief or I am
confused, and I think it’s because I’m doing this dually for Adam and
Dave. I work hard to get past changes I
never anticipated; back in the days I was just learning to be able to put words
to what had happened to my loved ones and to my life. It’s like me against a tag team of five; one
for Dave, one for Adam, one for the life that I had and loved, one for my
parents, and one for the loss that the others in my family feel – for both Dave
and Adam.
I think I may as well understand that I’m just in a
tournament with it. In keeping with the
spirit of the summer Olympics, maybe I’ll just create my own event – Grappling Grief. I say it feels like a tournament because I
never know for sure, day to day, exactly how my opponent will present itself,
but every day there is some event to contend with. Some days I’m very strong and can take it
down, whenever it shows up. Of late,
after posting morning inspiration on FB for 77 days straight, most days it
helped. If I had a match early in the
day, inevitably there would be another sneaky opponent lying in wait for
another penciled in match later in the day.
Sometimes I still can best it, and other days it gets the best of
me. And there are still days it feels
like I didn’t even show up to play.
I think the Olympics are possibly a good metaphor. There are lots of events, lots of obstacles,
lots of others participating from all walks of life. We don’t all grieve the same; therefore we
don’t always speak the same grief language.
It’s okay. Our objective is the
same, which is to get healthy, to learn how to fully live again in the shadow
of our losses, to not win, because this event never ends. It will be with us forever. But we learn to compete; not against one
another but to measure our own progress and continue to strive for our own
personal best.
Now as any good athlete knows, (not me – I don’t have an
athletic bone in my body, but I understand the fundamentals and strategies; I
was always better in the cheering section – maybe that’s part of my problem!) to get through this, even though this is an
individual event, you need a team around you.
Trainers, doctors, coaches, and the best of all are your fans. The ones you don’t have to pay, who travel
wherever you are to be in attendance supporting you. Don’t try to be a superstar and go it
alone. You’ll burn out quickly. You need people. Hell, we all need people even when we’re not
grieving. But don’t let your pride, or
insecurity get in the way. People want
to help. We need to let them. This is your time to be nurtured and
encouraged. You will definitely get the opportunity
to pay it forward at some time, I guarantee.
I’m just coming off a pretty good run, winning more days
than losing. But doggone it, and then
they bump you up to the next level. You’re
not seeded #1 anymore. You’re #48 and
hitting a new level of experiences that you didn’t see coming. That’s why it’s okay to take some time, rest
a bit, and go back to the gym to hone your strengths before you go back to this
fight. Call it a pit stop if you
will. And pretty soon you’ll be eager to
bounce out of that gym and tackle the next field.
I don’t know what sectional/regional/level of competition I’m
at right now. I don’t want to know how
deep this field can go. It might be too
overwhelming and I might start to lose hope that I could never achieve the
level of success I hope for if I looked at how long the road really is. So I will take my training and competition
schedule one day at a time.
I can’t promise I’ll be the champion. I would find that highly unlikely. I will settle for establishing my own pace
that’s comfortable, competitive and hopefully it’s one I can live with. That’s the goal, to participate. And there are no winners and losers. To participate is to win.
I watched some of the summer Olympic trials and to see the
absolute commitment, strength and courage those athletes display was
inspirational to me. If you want to do
something badly enough you will. But you
have to work for it; train for it; sacrifice for it. I’m not ready for the Olympics this summer,
but I’m sure going to continue to train to Grapple Grief. The fitness it will bring, mentally,
emotionally and spiritually will be worth every bit of blood, sweat and tears
that go into it. So if you see me, just
give me an “Atta girl” as encouragement.
I’ll know what you mean. And I
guarantee I’ll be able to pick up my game just a little bit more. And thanks, because I have the best fans in
the world.
