I wrote recently about Grief being the Great Dark
Hunter. It truly is. Fortunately for me, until the last several
years, my life was essentially unscathed.
However in the past two years, there has been more pain and grief than I
could have imagined. Losing both my
parents by the time I was 49 was difficult at best, but having an amazing
husband and sons who helped me through those difficulties made a difference. And even though their deaths were somewhat
untimely, you grow up knowing that it’s very likely that you will be there to
bury your parents. It doesn’t make you
miss them or grieve less, but it’s not unexpected.
Although my husband and son both struggled with illness,
their deaths were still unexpected when they occurred. And the fact that they happened literally
back to back took me to my knees. Now,
almost 2 years since my husband departed, I am working so hard to be brave,
find what my new life has in store. Yet
other circumstances keep rocking my boat.
When you’re grieving, it’s all you can do to focus on what is at hand in
the moment. The ability to look down the
road and forecast how you will react to other situations is just not in my
skill set right now. I can only deal
with what is at hand, do my best to react and respond logically, appropriately,
sensitively and with love. And while
your head knows that is the correct response, your heart is screaming in pain
and sometimes even anger. Carrying that
inner conflict and finding a way to soothe it, stroke it, reason through it and
resolve it is exhausting. And typically
it is not anything that you share with others.
So you are fighting within yourself to acknowledge your feelings while
retaining grace and dignity throughout circumstances and situations that come
your way unbidden. You accept things you
never would have dreamed of accepting in life “before” because although it
feels as if has caused your heart to break, you realize that it’s only residual
feelings. The heartbreak has already
occurred and this is just walking on the broken glass that’s left, crunching it
into yet smaller pieces. And you can do
this because you know that no one has intentionally wanted to cause you this
pain. They just don’t know. And many are finding their own way to cope
with the same losses and their way is different than yours. Not wrong.
Just different.
Realizing that these delayed reactions are going to be part
of my life until it ends is another novel situation for me. It’s hard to guard yourself from the
unexpected without becoming bitter, cynical, and angry. None of those are adjectives I want in a
description of myself. So you are riding
the high waves without a life jacket, knowing that you will be able to continue
the journey, but do not have the necessary safety gear to keep you afloat 100%
of the time. The silver lining to this
is that your swimming skills are now so far beyond what you ever thought
possible that you will surface again and again, but you will work harder at it
than the average sailor as your life jacket disappeared with your loved
one. However, if you persist, and you
don’t carry the weight of the negatives, the pain, the suffering, it will be
easier for you to swim the distance alone.
It will also easier for another to help pull you to safety.
It’s not an option for me to not get on the boat. It’s not an option to avoid the storms. It’s not even an option to not have the
occasional meltdown after sustaining the storm.
My only option is to keep sailing, keep swimming. One day, I’ll find another safe little harbor
with a calm, floating pool that will be restorative and healing. I just have to continue so I can enjoy it.
