NeckingToo

-One of the biggest blocks to healing grief from profound loss is the subconscious belief that we cannot be healed—that we are not worthy of more happiness than we are currently feeling and that we do not contain the elements of healing that will move us forward.-                     (unknown)

There was surgery of course, something to do with Titanium wires and the fusing of vertebrae, requiring that a section of bone be removed from my right hip to affect the repair to my neck. That particular procedure left a gaping 2 inch hole back there that flowed for a while and required constant attention and one that I could not reach; another memento I have is  a 5 inch healed slit which runs down the center of the back of my neck. Before I left the hospital I was awarded a crown for my performance on the roof that morning, something called a 'halo'; I am told that mine was considered to be of the more milder sort as these devices go, still, it appeared monstrous; with a metal band for the head, shoulder rests, belts and cinches to beat the band and a particularly nasty metal plate that ran down the rear of it. It had 4 metal rods which extended from those shoulder rests, angling, to connect with that metal band which ran around my forehead; the dr. said that it would restrict movement of the wounded area and help the fusion take; it took some time to get used to it, and to get in and out of, I couldn't sleep in it, and whenever I was out of it, I had to lie perfectly flat, pillows on either side of my head; Donna had to do the washing of me that was required, again pillows while the task was completed; but after a while I did became very adept at turning my entire torso to view things which once had only required a quick swivel of the neck. I have no idea how I looked in it, I never challenged a mirror while I wore it, but it must have not looked too bad because during this period, Donna seem to grow a slight smile on her face whenever she looked at me. To this day I am convinced that our children enjoyed it a lot more than I did; for the three months or so which I had to wear it, there was more laughter, although somewhat muffled, coming from their rooms than there had been for some time.

As I recalled this entire episode now, forced to by the unrelenting stare of the buzz word, written in bold black Sharpie: FOOL!, the two o's staring blankly back at me, as if their blankness indicated the prospects for my future; I admitted it, yes, I had been a fool, especially during that time of our lives. But I won't be condemned to that role in the new, different life, not entirely; I will never survive if this is a truth. At the start of this, all I could think of was the foolish things I did, of how poorly I had behaved, that had taken me to point of throwing myself away.  But now, I realize that dwelling on only that, I would soon make it a reality and it just  doesn't have to be like that.  I remembered how Donna cared for me, cleaning my body, and the wound left by the surgery; how she helped me to get in and out of that device when necessary; all normal wifely duties...not so much in this context. She had not said much more than what had been said in the hospital room that first night, and the silence about the entire situation, roared. I remembered how, during those long days of recovering, I had made promises to myself to go forward and sin no more. How I would be a better father to the kids, and a better husband and friend to her. I thought about why I had not died or been paralyzed and swore to the Lord himself that there would be a new me. Of course having an addictive nature such as mine, as soon as I healed enough to go outside without the device, I promptly reneged on every resolution I had made and violated even the most heartfelt promises made to Donna, since I knew everything; the only promise I made that I kept, was not to get hurt like that again, and I never did; I did not stop practicing, but I did stop going up on roofs.

Now, I think about how this memory attempted to devour me that first week after her death, how it tried to consume me before I was able to put it aside for later; before I had a better understanding of shock; before any idea of 'waves of grief' had entered my vocabulary and  mind, it hung before me, offering only a future of deep pain and unending misery; a future I had already made up my mind about and had decided I would not endure. Now, I think I can 'put it in it's place', I can better understand what was happening between Donna and myself. I think we were facing some of the true challenges of a relationship, with our reactions to them indicating whether it was special or not. Through this and other 'bumps' in our road which we managed to get over, I think we did develop and have that special relationship.

Finding a comfortable spot for all of this is not necessarily easy, maybe it's not suppose to be,I am finding it to be a very messy and at times, disjointed process. I don't really know...What I do believe is, that if I am to really move forward, If I am to survive this grief, I will have to deal with these types of memories squarely and honestly. I for one cannot sit like a  rock in the middle of this stream of uncertainty, not moving, but allowing the waters of pain, regret and despair to wash over and past me, eventually eroding my spirit to an insignificant grain. I have to move towards associating myself with all the currents that comprise the river of grief. For me, I intend to have the word 'stuck' remain in reference to doors and to the condition of some unfortunate pig I hear about from time to time. There is only so much regret we can endure; there is only so much attempting to weigh the consequences of our past actions we can balance. During a critical time in my life, I had someone who demonstrated just how important I was to them, that's what I'm missing today, that person; the loss of that person has caused this personal gloom I am surrounded with. But I am finding that the loss does not have to destroy me, that though extremely painful, it can be survived. I'm sure the situation we faced is not unique in itself, but it was unique to us; it helped to further define our relationship and produced the bonds that make our being separated so damn hard for me now.

I don't think I'm anywhere near being through this grief, I'm sure there are other areas of this in which I will find different things that will force me to confront them, though they cause pain and force self examination at an entirely different and probably unwanted level. But unlike that first week after Donna died, I feel I'm in a better position to work on them and accept the results of that work. As I've mentioned before, this is just my experience, I am not attempting to speak for anyone else, and although as foggy and fragmented as my future may appear to be, some of these things of my past have been placed in sharp focus in many instances, inasmuch as they relate to any future I might have, and have begun to clamor for attention. It can be said that Donna did what any wife is suppose to do, stand by their mate through thick and thin, and although that may well be true, what I am trying to deal with here is not so much what she did, but what the effect of her doing it, has had on me. I am finding that the pieces which make up this different life come in many shapes and sizes but it appears at least that they are all there, including the piece which represents Donna's absence.

I am willing to believe that all the things mentioned in the quote at the top of these pages could be true; that somehow deep inside ourselves we could believe we can't be healed. But I'm not buying it as a proven fact; I can be healed, I have to be healed. I am on a personal mission to change that belief in my own life if it exists there. Just because it's a belief, doesn't mean I have to make it a fact of my reality. So, into the memories that cause me pain I go, crying, kicking, and screaming against any preconceived notions that the current state of things cannot change, that I am to be haunted for the duration by doubts and regrets concerning the death of Donna, that somehow I am now merely a 'half' of something which was once whole and beautiful or some such nonsense, to hell with that; my better half is not missing or dead, it never existed; what did exist was a complete whole person I loved deeply. I have never been half of anything, I have even done some half-assed things, but they were done totally, 100 per cent; I was a part of a very whole relationship. I, am whole; half of me does not miss her, all of me misses her; this feeling of profound loneliness is not going to be the title page of my new life now, and all of the trappings of grief listed as the index, that doesn't have to be; I'm pushing against anything that even hints that I cannot be healed. I am insisting that my current state of happiness moves past some grotesque sham carried on to please others and make the rest of the world breathe easier as they want to believe I'm doing alright, "fakin' it just ain't makin' it"; I believe that the parts needed to heal reside in each of us, but I also believe that we have to execute the initiative and begin to try and fit those parts together.

This, and memories like it will be with me until the day I die, but I am determined that most of the pain associated with them will not be there if I can recall them at my end. I think they can and will change, but only If I am willing and can accept that I too, can change. 

Now, what's next..

Pax

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“I carry your heart with me (I carry it in my heart) I am never without it (anywhere I go, you go), my dear…” -eecummings.