2MysElf2

''Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself. You are a child of the universe, no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here.''  -  The Desiderata 

At one point about two and a half months in, I had made up my mind that I no longer wanted to be part of this painful scene...I was feeling totally lost, unmotivated and falling into a truly apathetic state.  There was nothing I could see to hang around for, the most important person in my life was gone and everything else, including family did not provide much reason for carrying on. I was brought face to face with selfish Fred.  At that point, I was the epitome of selfishness...wallowing deep in self pity and seeking escape from the awful pain I was enduring.  With help, I was able to retreat from the precipice and have been able to continue on the road...so far. Those who knew me before DJ's death may well attest to the fact that I was not a well man even then, before, altho I didn't accept this...there were various symptoms...I am told I suffered from the inability to even consider being wrong about almost anything; having made up my mind long ago that most folks were idiots, I had determined many would do well to just follow and do as I suggested, as a matter of fact, I knew for a that the entire world would would be a better place if everyone simply did as I said; after having given any subject the most cursory of reviews, I would declare myself an expert and have no further need of instruction on it.  Now I can see that my aliments extended deeper than some mere character defect in regards to the high esteem I held of myself; It spread to my thinking that because of the life I had led, somehow, I had been given special insight into the hearts and motivations of others, family and friends alike. Quick to judge and slow to forgive, I was the zenith of the perfect human being. There is a condition that came along with the malady from which i suffered...in my case it was blindness...well, maybe not total blindness, but a form of permanent tunnel vision, and not always with my eye being kept on the prize.  DJ, altho no innocent herself when it came to having some of these same symptoms was able to to partially help heal me of some of my own and help make me a presentable human being to the world at large.  Altho I am not sure she is aware of it, one of the greatest lessons she gave me was in the last hours of her life, an insight into acceptance; I have not completed that course......yet, tho.

A few nights after DJ died, I had a dream...it wasn't a dream specifically about DJ, as a matter of fact I don't remember what all it was about really; the elements of which it was made were disjointed and incomplete. It appears to have been a random sampling of some of the more trying times in my life.  All that day I had been trying to come to terms with what had happened...trying to find something which would allow me a better grasp of what had befallen us and just how was I to manager the feeling I was being overwhelmed by... I think I was trying to find something to which I could compare DJ's death, something I could judge all these emotions, in comparisson to... I say this because altho the specifics of the dream are not clear, I do know I woke up with a certain terrible feeling I have had only few times before in my life; the most recent being DJ's death, and one of the first times being some time ago...that feeling first occurred one summer's day in a place far removed from here. The feeling is one of total helplessness, it appears to originate from deep in the pit of one's stomach and from there can manifest itself in many ways. Often it is accompanied by stark terror, a sense of unimaginable anxiety and many times, a level of inner tension and breathlessness that no human was designed to endure. For me, one of it's most outstanding features was a sense of tremendous pounding in my chest, as if it were being struck by a 16 pound sledge hammer...from the inside out; for me, uncontrollable shaking was a  feature as was profuse sweating; and on that particular summer's day, a complete loss of control over bodily functions was present also. Watching DJ die that morning caused this feeling, and many more that I'd just as soon forget.

It has been detailed here, some of those last moments of DJ's life, but one of the first times I had that feeling associated with it was on that summer's day as I trudged through another country's jungle, bearing the necessities of my then current life on my back; in my hand was a rifle, and in my mind I was carrying a thousand and one resentments against more than a million and one people for being where I was. As I walked below a roaring sun and a stifling, heated atmosphere, where each breath was like breathing the output of a blast furnace and the sweat rolled unceasingly, all I could think of was DJ and home; those thoughts were propelling me that particular day. I had different thoughts for each day to help me do what I needed to do to survive; today it was DJ and dinner out...of course all the thoughts had DJ in them, DJ and the new baby I had not met yet, DJ and our car, DJ and our new apartment...DJ and... ...always DJ was in them.  Usually I played the thoughts to a conclusion of my own design, some fairy tale ending with all the stars in their proper alignment...her, rushing to me as I came off the last step of the plane's stairway, soft music in the backgroud, and the entire scene viewed through  a soft focus lens... Love Story, Fred's style; this day that thought was interrupted. 

That it was ever determined where the shot came from, or if the sniper from the other side who fired it was ever sought out and properly dealt with, I don't remember; what I do remember is watching one of the young fellows in the lead, fall back, dropping all his gear, and leaning backwards over his kneeling legs, unmoving...there was a hole about the size of an american quarter in the front left side of his neck, and the red liquid it pulsed, ran down the side of his neck and created a crimson stain on some of the plants, and  in the short grass, and onto the floor of that other country's jungle; I could have lived another entire lifetime without knowing that almost the entire rear of that young man's head was missing, but as I scrambled to the ground to avoid being the sniper's next prize, I landed close enough to see that it was. That feeling began that moment, right then as I lay pressed to the earth, staring at what was left of that young man's head.  As we lay there for all of that afternoon, with me trying to press myself through the earth, with clothes being held next to my body by sweat, and the creatures of the jungle feeding on me..biting, stinging, afraid to brush them off lest the next bullet find me, and with every inch of my skin appearing to need scratching, thoughts of DJ and everything else evacuated my mind; that feeling replaced them, that same feeling I had that early morning with DJ.  The helplessness, the terror, the anxiety, and the breathlessness, they all made their appearance, the most powerful of all was the unbelievable inner pounding I felt, as if my heart and lungs would burst forth from my chest and, radiating up to the inside of my head. Both were terrible times indeed, but what was worse, even after they came and DJ went that morning, as I looked at where she had lain, the feeling continued. Into the next day and the next, and next and...  those awful gut wrenching stabs of helplessness, and that inner pounding continued for quite some time afterwards.  It appeared to stalk me. Sleeping didn't help, even if I could, eating was impossible, and thinking was the worse; the pounding continued.

We were held down there that summer's day for the majority of that afternoon and into early evening  before it was decided that it was safe to carry on.  I remember thinking as we gathered ourselves, and the remains of that young man, that never again in my life would anyone ever tell me anything about how I should feel or think or live. At that instant, I determined that most of the rest of the world could kiss my ass from that point forward, race, creed, color, or national origin not being a barrier to their lips going there; what they may think of me, no matter what I did or how my choices appeared was of little consequence to me. Having endured what we did that day, I knew from that moment on, I would be a totally different person...I don't think anyone can sustain such a continuous barrage of that sort of psychological and physical terror and not be changed...and I was changed. It would only be later that I would realize just how much; but for the plight of that young man, I should want to thank that unknown marksman, because he helped me clear up a lot things during those hours we lay on that other conuntry's jungle floor...being feasted upon by the many multi-legged creatures which lived there.  My ideas on everything from racism to religion were different after that day.  That in some way it may have prepared me for keeping watch at DJ's departure. The mindset which I was able to bring into focus about the event, had it's origins on that day. I could understand what was happening, at both instances, and despite all the emotions involved, I could manage to retain enough external composure to survive the immediate shock; it was the internal workings of my mind that was roiling, scrambling, and always, that damn pounding. I lived in that state for over two months after DJ died, unable to sleep, eating sparsely, continually absorbing the effects of that feeling; it felt as though it would never end, and I knew I would not live the rest of my life as I had lived that summer's day way back when; that inner pounding would not allow it, even if everything else would.  An exit strategy was needed and I began to ponder the most obvious one; here, that selfish nature could serve me well...it could allow me to justify anything if I wanted it to, and the rest of the world could kiss my ass.  Since in this, only my opinion counted...I could have it any way I wanted, and I wanted out of this.

Thoughts of others, even down to the most newest, most significant member of our close family was easily banished from my mind; the decision was made crystalline and a course of action was plotted. Strangely enough, some of the effects of that feeling lessened once this decision was made...now it was just a matter of time, a matter of when.  I could not be sure that the results of my planned action would put me with DJ, where ever that might be, the only thing I was willing to believe was that it would stop that damn pounding and the pain, and the fear; and that it had to be complete, with no chance for survival for me. I was dedicated to making sure of the final outcome. I am sure many of us have arrived at the doorway of this house of despair...pondering that same escape from the feeling of hopelessness and pain.  That the exact feeling may not be present is of no matter...to each of us it is just so personal, but just as deep, just as tortuous, and has the belief attached that we cannot go on. It is truly strange the effect that the loss of someone with whom we have shared so much, have lived so much for and have come to rely on so deeply can have on us.  It cannot be over estimated; for those of us who have experienced this, we know that effect, we feel it in every fiber of our bodies, and it's loss can rip us totally apart.

Through the grace of a power greater than myself and the help of some sincerely caring people, I was able to ride the storm that feeling produced and find a more calmer, and recognizable place; a place where I could at least forgo the action I was considering and begin to understand that a way forward was possible, even if difficult.  Having no formal training in matters of the mind, I detail here, from the point of pure emotion and personal experience; what I attempt to relate is a direct result of having experienced something about which I am only now getting a more truer and better understanding. I believe that we cannot effectively deal with methods of treatment as scientific protocols when it comes to our grief; this is purely a set of human emotions for which it is impossible for us to prepare for or be trained to endure. This feeling, these emotions do not bend to the ideas of professors or educators in all cases, mine being an example, altho many individuals are helped by their ministrations, at the heart of this is that we are dealing with personal emotions, and I don't believe there is anything on earth more unknowable or more volatile.  In my own case, I was only relieved of that awful feeling and that unending pounding by the understanding and caring of folks in a like situation; they helped me to turn back from that doorway and towards the house of the living.  I'm sure a lot of this has to do with my personality and my willingness to accept what I was being told because I knew those people had felt if not all, at least some of those feelings which had driven me to the edge.  

Being able to recognize and honestly deal with what I knew of myself has helped me to try and go forward, it has allowed me to accept some things regarding DJ's death, and at least become willing to work on other aspects of it that I struggle with.  For those of us who still are visited by some of those feelings I have tried to describe here, I can offer this; there is a way, things do get better, despite all appearances, the fog will clear.  Believing that and understanding with just a bit of effort and a willingness to give time it's due, we don't have to continue to suffer from the constant emotional attacks that are such a large part of this grieving process.  That there is  hope, there is no doubt, that we are willing to deal with ourselves on an entirely different level and believe that we can flourish is the real question.

To be clear; I claim no special knowledge in this process of grief other than my feelings and reactions to it's appearance in my life, but like each one of us here, I am an expert on how it has made me feel, and what emotions it has stirred in me...I have no empirical data to support any thing I put forth as my conclusions on this process, only how I have interpreted the many stories, comments, and expressions from all those who are traveling this path also.  For me, every thing I feel about the loss of DJ is valid; anger, dislike, self-pity, greed, jealousy, hopelessness, victimization, you name, if I feel it, then dammit it's valid.  It has to be, simply because I feel it. There may be many things I do not understand in this world, but my feelings are not one of them...I have spent a good portion of my life trying to deal with them and understand them, I can speak for me, without the necessity to defend, or if choose not to, explain them to anyone; yes, it's a narrow world here, but grief itself is a narrow world; if you don't believe that, look around for all the folks who said they would be there...yes, narrow indeed, but if the answers make sense to me, i'm satisfied.  And that is what has to happen for me with grief, the answers I seek, the definitions I find about all which has happened, only really have to make sense to me...they only have to put my mind at rest and bring me closer to ending that pounding and to beginning of acceptance.

Dont MenTionIt

As over 2/3rds of a year has passed since the death of DJ, not much time  really...just forever in some ways, and yesterday in others, I am reviewing this recent period, that time from the very moments of her leaving til now.  How the family and I have changed, how, in an instant evertything that once was known and familiar, changed, became strange and how it affected me and our family in many ways...there's really no need to detail all ups and downs and twists and turns the road of grief has exposed us to, all of us know them only too well, and some of mine have been related in this venue; but a few observations of some of the very personal aspects of process might be in order at this point...the things I as a man have experienced. One of the first things I remember thinking, after some of the pain, shock and disbelief began to dissipate, was what other folks would think now, friends and family...now that it would not be DJ & Fred, how would just Fred be viewed by them; I have heard other widows speak of how they believe their female friends no longer invite them around...possibly out of fear that their own mates might find these widows appealing...I don't know, the wives of  the few married friends I have often remind me of how blessed I am to have been married to DJ...but I have not noticed a decline in invitations to me by their husbands.  I do know I didn't spend too much time thinking about the friends side, as I have always leaned on the family more, but the thoughts did cross my mind.  I finally determined I really didn't care how I was viewed, all I knew for sure was that I'd be seen as being alone.

The week after the services, I found a grief group to join and attended a few sessions, the first thing I noticed was that there were hardly any men present.  If there were 10 people, 2 might be males, I say might because I have been a part of many meetings when I was the only male there.  Hurting as bad as I was, this did not bother me, but it did make me curious.  As I connected with other groups, including some church widow groups, I found the same thing.  When I would  go online and check the various bereavement sites, I noticed that the majority of the posters to the many discussion forums were women, with a sprinkling of male input here and there. Now, I don't know all the scientific data on these things, but I have to believe that the ratio of male spouses dying versus female spouses cannot be as great as I have observed in my small sampling; where are all those widowed males?  How are they handling this very tortuous and complex process and from where do they draw their coping skills?  Have I missed some great resource that I should know about?  This is a very serious question for me, and I am still trying to determine just where the hell they are.  I think all this alerted me to the fact that altho the process and pain of grief were similar to both men and women, there were some important differences I should be aware of.  Now, I didn't have any idea of what these differences might be, just that they were there.  After the passage of even this brief amount of time, I think I can at least put down some of the things I have personally encountered and some things that I have noticed about myself as the process continues.

DJ and I knew each other for over 45 years, we were married 40 of those, beyond her physical presence, I missed her voice, I struggled in those early days to try and recall that voice, to try and make myself hear it; I could not. I panicked, I feared I would never hear it again; I played video tapes of parties and events just to pick up a smattering of her talking.  I listened to a voicemail I had from her and transferred others that my oldest daughter had to my computer.  I longed to hear that voice.  Later after it's return to the inside of my head, I would learn that this was somewhat normal, that shock was preventing me from hearing her in my minds ear. I'm sure this applies to both men and women, and as time wore on, and I could again hear her voice, a secondary void appeared; when I would come in in the evening, sitting alone in the house, with maybe just the the TV on, I still found myself needing something...yes, I wanted her here, but that wasn't it...I wasn't sure what it was, but something was keeping me off kilter.  Soon I came across WV and it's chat area, and from there, with the many (sadly) female members a cure to this particular item was effected; as I became involved there, the words of those females writing actually turned into voices in my mind, female voices; that something which was keeping me off balance disappeared, and that source of distraction for me was cleared up.  For me personally, I cannot overstate the positive effect this had on my entire outlook, as I became more familiar with the different people there, I could imagine in my mind what their actual voices might sound like, but here, I was making up what I thought they sounded like, to me; this has made one of the greatest differences in my attempts at healing.  I have not yet spoken to any other men to see if they have had the similar experience, but it would not surprise me if they had. I would suspect the same holds true for women. And, lest I leave the impression that this chat area merely served to provide voices for my seriously ill mind, I should add that the people behind those voices actually helped to bring me back from the edge, they provided the caring and the sharing that has prevented me from leaning all the way forward, right out of that window; I will not embarrass them here by naming names, but they know who they are and I have reminded them of that fact more than once. But here again, the majority of members are female, perhaps it is some reflection on the way our society has pronounced it should be in regards to grieving for men, we shouldn't make a public display of our grieving,  I don't know, but it is curious, at least to me.

Another affliction I incurred in those first few weeks were the episodes of almost overpowering yearning for female company; the grief group was nice, the weekly church meetings, o.k., but this was something else.  I was able to convince myself that this was a sense of false libido rearing it's head in DJ's absence as I could not see myself with anyone else at that time. But a sure and strong difference between mental awareness and physical desire did emerge. About this I did talk to another male and after much discussion we agreed that having had that type of companionship for so long, it would be only natural that in the immediate aftermath of a partners death, the dread of the loss of this, and the many questions arising as to how to deal with it were a reasonable consequence. I wrestled with this dilemma because I understood that involving myself with someone, even on the most superficial of levels could be dangerous because it would possibly involve the emotions of another person whose ideas about the whole thing could be totally different from my own. This is all long before any talk of emotional investment comes into play for myself.  Yes, there are other methods available, for both men and women, but they carry their own stigmas outside of emotional involvement, including the various health risks, guilt, and a good chance your picture could end up on the local news.  But for me, this, along with the other things mentioned, had to be explored, examined and faced with all the honesty I could muster.  Altho several early opportunities presented themselves, today I am glad that I avoided any entanglements which might have led to emotional misreadings, hurt feelings, embarrassment or worse, some incurable disease. Of course I did note in passing, and in the vein of really trying to be honest about this, that all of this could also be the emergence of a true part of my inherently lustful nature, which had been suppressed or contained by 40 years of marriage...at this, both my friend and I laughed...nervously I might add.

Then there was the situation of strength and expressing emotions, specifically being able to allow others a shoulder to lean on and crying...in those days it came and went at will much as it does to this day, the crying I mean...I let it; I made no attempt to hide what I was feeling, for a while I laid it on, I wanted everyone around me to know just how bad I felt, heck I wanted their asses to feel bad too...I wanted the entire world to feel bad and to know how much DJ's death was affecting me. In a way this idea about crying was not new; as our children were growing up, especially during the teenage years, if one of them did something which required serious attention, it was not unheard of for me break into tears as I pointed out the error of their ways, all the while bemoaning phrases describing attempts by me and their mother to provide the best we could for them; depending on the severity of their transgressions, I might fall to my knees for dramatic effect and wail uncontrollably as I implored the Lord for answers as to why we had been stricken with such ungrateful beings...I might do this for some time. Now, this may seem a bit overboard, but since it was mainly employed only at those times when the alternative may have resulted in bodily harm to them and to me being deprived of my freedom, I could always justify it's use.  It sort of became my standard operation to cry first, I had to get that card out of their hands.  Making any attempts at being strong wasn't going to help me, I knew that...being strong did not stop the progression of the disease, it did not lessen the pain for our children and her mother, or her sisters, and it did absolutely nothing to quell the pure terror DJ must have endured as her mind must have raced, as she considered the prospect of dying.  I tried to leave strength to the strongman and the circus.  The crying I knew I had to be able to do without apology, I did and do still cry, and have no apologies to make for showing that emotion about the person who meant the most to me in this world; If I can't cry for her, anywhere, at the drop of a hat, anytime, without excuse, then I've really been bs'ing all along. I believe any strength I might have comes from remembering how DJ faced all of this. About this I did not need to speak to anyone, this, I understood very well.  The way others may view it is their issue, not mine and I'm content to have it that way.

Those are some of things I dealt with inside of my mind, and of course, me being a man, they come from that perspective...but I also have some incidents which involved the actions of others, outside of myself, both men and women.  Most of the men I know were quite reserved in their approach; in most of them I could detect the air of uncomfortablity they carried and their words were mostly simple and to the point: ''...sorry  about your loss...'' was generally what I heard.  Closer male acquaintances might say a bit more...''...Donna was alright, she was a good woman...'', this is not to say those utterances were not genuine...they were just short and simple, and other aspects of my well being were not generally questioned, commented on, or denoted.  Now, the women with whom I came into contact, they were a bit different; some of them were bent on insuring that my food intake continue, or increase; a few displayed that curious ability DJ had, the one which allowed them to see the need of any room in the house to be cleaned, or some obscure dish that needed to be washed. Oh, I understand all of this, I am merely relating what was my experience.   

There were some good hearted females who by some mysterious power determined I had a perpetual sweet tooth and attempted to bring cakes and whatnot long after the week of the service...claiming weight issues I mostly declined them, tho at 130 lbs wringing wet, I don't know how well my veracity went over. Some, altho they had know for years the type of work I do and had not once voiced a need my services, suddenly had a barrage of leaking faucets...damaged walls &ct, here, as I was still grieving, I passed on the jobs.  Almost to a person, unlike the men, these women would sit and talk about DJ and I at length...recalling various instances when they had done some activity with her, had need of her  ear, or had bought some offering from a fund raiser or something.  They too appeared to be expressing  thoroughly heartfelt sentiments and I have no reason to doubt them; here, I am just noting some of the differences I encountered.  There were other things, but I think this gives you the idea of what I'm getting at. The upshot of all of this is to remind myself that even with the minor quirks in their responses to the loss that had affected our family, they all appeared to be from the heart, just different for the two genders.  I feel being aware of the different approaches is a major step in keeping the road as smooth as possible.

As I earnestly began on the path sat out by grief, joining groups, enlisting the aid of the various online sites, and checking into the many forums available, what I saw and read reflected much of what I experienced in regards to the approach men and women take towards grief. Both about the bereaved and about themselves as grieving persons.  I noticed that men appeared to be more prepared to seek out companionship sooner, were a lot less vocal in their expression of their grief, and yet on the whole, appeared to be more lost and devastated in some cases, at the same time. Now, none of this is based on any studied or proven scientific research, just the mere casual and narrow observations of one male who happens to be grieving; it serves no other purpose than to aid me in trying to understand better some of the many nuances of grief that I noticed as the journey continues. I think this might help me in avoiding resentments, making premature judgments about people, or worse, doubting any valid feelings or responses I may have during grief.

I think that in the final analysis for me, I have to remember that tho there my be differences in the traits of the genders, I should be willing to accept all of them on face value and take them for what they are worth.  I am not astute enough to engage in a discussion of the possible motivations and reasons why the different genders react the way they do, or are treated differently in response to our grief, only to try and recognize them and accept that their presence be recognized, and see them as another brick in the road forward.

   

MyBinaryBrain

As part of my formal training for the field of work I had chosen, I was exposed to a new way of looking at numbers and how they are used, and how they were present in nature and in the everyday things which surround us. One area of study was that of the Binary number system; as you may know, in this system there are only two characters, 1's & 0's, the idea here is that they are used to represent the place value of things. In a most simple implementation of it, a light switch is a perfect example of this system; depending on the position of the switch, a light is either on or off, a 1 or a 0.  Simple and apparently obvious.  But, as with most things of this nature which can start off so seemingly simple and obvious, it can be expanded to apply to many things, and get complicated, fast...in an 8421 number system for example, 0001 would be equivalent to  ''1'',  as that place value is being represented by a 1 and as being 'on', the number 5 would be represented by  0101, 4+1=5, I found I kinda' like that stuff, I could grasp the on and off, yes and no, the black/white, or hot or cold situations of life pretty good, here, I knew where I stood; it was those gray areas that gave me trouble. I feel like, DJ's death has thrown me head first into the largest gray area which ever existed; and I have not enjoyed it much since I landed.  The vagaries of moving through grief are many and varied for me, as it is for many others I am sure. I have found that much of it cannot be dealt with in an ''yes/no'', ''on/off'' or black and white fashion. I'm certain I'm not the only one finding this out, this just happens to be my version of how it is affecting me.

When we were given the diagnosis and the prognosis, DJ and I understood what was at hand; I could grasp that this was a no-go situation, and the outcome could probably not be altered.  Our challenge was to determine how to live with it, and make the best of the time which was left.   Understanding that one of the next orders of business was to inform the other close family members, we first talked between ourselves about what she wanted to happen, how she felt about things. I asked her to tell me what she feared the most, outside of the prospect of dying itself; privately, she said there were only two things that were on her mind, that the children (38, 40, 42) be looked after, and that she not be in pain.  I reassured her about the children, and guaranteed her that if I was alive, she would not be in pain...and she wasn't.  As tragic as all this sounds, I could absorb it in the ''on/off'' fashion, I could understand what was happening ( I had not dared to think about the aftermath...not yet) ...DJ would be with us for a bit longer, then die. I could understand it, but I did not like it, still don't.  

In digesting that, during the four years that followed, there were not many gray areas...most decisions we made, and the things we did in a pretty straight forward manner, we understood; we dealt with life that way.  Things that previously may have caused hand wringing or long ponderous debates, we handled in an expedient, tho not necessarily reckless manner, we tried to do things which gave the best results with peace of mind, primarily for DJ, but for me and the family too.  But as time wore on and I could see the disease actually taking effect on DJ, the gray began to appear; our usual outings to malls, stores, family gatherings and the like took on a different atmosphere. Where as before we would walk through endless aisles of the various stores, now, after one or two circuits DJ would say enough, and the gray edged closer still...the gray invaded my thoughts; is this the day?  Will DJ just drop right here in the store? Or at night; it became my habit to awake periodically, look over at her sleeping, trying to determine if her chest was still moving; was she gone? Gray things, things I really wasn't sure how to approach. 

This is how the gray area came to me, and at about three years into this...as I watched DJ begin to slow down even more, still more of the gray invaded.  Fortunately she did not have major pain...and what pain there was, we were able to control with the meds, I am very grateful for that.  It allowed her to remain lucid and active and to be a part of everything right up until the last couple of months. I did not like being in this gray area, the security and peace of mind of my ''yes/no'', ''on/off'' world was being shaken, and this threw me off balance.  It allowed for thoughts which I had not counted on to come in and forced me to play out scenarios which altho had only one end, required many frightening scenes before they were concluded, living out those scenes were pure hell...no, I did not like this, and I could not stop them from playing. My Binary brain was having trouble taking it all in, the subtle and not so subtle changes in DJ; the disruption to what had been our routine for so long, the not knowing what would be happening next...I understand that many of us go through this, go through this struggle with the unknown regarding the various illnesses; but life in it's most basic form had to move on...bills needed to be paid, what business DJ decided to deal with had to be taken care of, meals had to be considered...in the middle of all the gray, we still had to just try and live each day.

Dealing with the effects of a terminal illness does not lend itself to the ''on/off'' system very well, there are just too many variables in both the physical and mental aspects of life...for me, there was no way to be definite about anything, DJ, the illness, myself and the world in general...the gray area demanded a different type of approach for which I was totally unprepared.  DJ had made it a point to say she did not want to be treated like she was sick, she said she was past being sick, she was dying, so bring on whatever with that in mind. And, we were told, ''...keep those pitiful ass looks to yourselves, I don't need them...''  she said she didn't need or want them. I tried to oblige...tried to continue my ''on/off'' approach in dealing with her...the way I always had.   For the most part it served us well in most things...we have always been straight with each other, tho we were known to lie to the world at times.. So except for the regular doctor's appointments, and her designated treatment days, and a couple of down days after a treatment maybe, life proceeded for us on a different, but somewhat even plane.  Of course, when we were alone, sometimes she would breakdown and cry uncontrollably; cry for the kids, cry for me, cry for herself. Sometimes she would say just how terrified she was of dying, of the unknown; all I could do at those times was to try and remind her that our faith had carried us through so much, and that right now, that was really all she needed.  How much good any of this did, I do not know, I do know that at the very end she said nothing about being scared, only that the rest felt good, and I do know her last moments were quiet.  

The family held together pretty well, everyone knew what the prognosis was, so we went forward with that knowledge and tried to enjoy...there were still the usual tensions for which my brain worked well under...I still protested going to some family functions because I had a case against the host...but I went anyway, a simple decision, makes DJ happy, do it; I still had to endure her opinions on whatever was going on between the girls... (and listen without interruption mind you, these were proclamations, not a call for a response from me), how sisters shouldn't be like that &ct...yes, I have heard it all before, but I still listened...and thought...and cried inside, and loved her for the way she was about this particular notion. No gray area there.  Sometimes I think the frustration of the entire situation would get to her, and she would lash out at me, erupting with detailed lists of my shortcomings, and offering proven  examples if i needed them...I'm in ''off'' mode here, especially once I realized that the majority of the things she was saying, tho true, had occurred years ago, and that those battles had been fought ...and won...or lost...who could remember now? Who really cared at this point?...she would go on for a while, and I would finally say she was right, and yes I do remember and I would try to give her a hug. Depending on her mood, it would end there, or she would try to resist, preferring to rant a little longer, at those times I would bring my mouth close to her ear, if she tried to pull back, I would hug her even tighter and would begin to describe a litany of unspeakable acts she might be subject to later, things which would surely have her mother questioning the value of that good catholic education she had been exposed to...this was ''on'' mode.  So, life continued for a while.

At the start of the last 3 months of her life, there was a definite physical change; up till then DJ would be able to get around the various stores on her own, now she needed the electric carts they have...she began to sleep more during the day, tho her appetite remained hearty.  The gray was pressing in even further, I knew what was happening, but I didn't want to believe it, I could not turn it off...one night at about the two month point, as we went to get in bed, she paused on her side and leaned on the bed, both hands resting on the mattress...she looked at me and said...''...i can't do this, it's too high now..''...our bed is somewhat higher than normal, and now it hurt for her to bring her leg up...we set up the lounger with proper bedding and that became her bed. A couple of weeks later as we were coming out of the house, she asked for my arm as we went down the steps, and leaned heavily on me..later that evening she agreed with our oldest daughter that she should probably get a cane. Amazingly DJ managed to remain cheery through these changes, at least on the outside.  More gray stuff...about a month before the end, we were watching TV, DJ got her cane and went to the bathroom...I watched as she carefully negotiated the few steps...heard the door shut...about 10 minutes later she called my name, I rushed to the bathroom, she told me she couldn't get up from the seat...I helped her up and we walked together back to the lounger...the next day a wheelchair was ordered...now, i was surrounded by the gray...Dj only used that chair 2 or 3 times...most of her time now was spent reclining on the lounger and listening to music...or watching TV...or listening to the audio books she loved so much.

Now, I was awash in gray...DJ was slipping away right before my eyes and there was not a damn thing I could do to prevent it. The cascade of thoughts was never ending and there were no ''yes/no'' answers in sight; what will happen next, how will, whatever it is, happen...do I go to work today, is it time to call the out of town relatives, does it really make any sense to continue the other, non cancer related meds..there were no ''on/off'' or ''yes/no''  or black and white answers in my Binary brain for these questions, not right now; because I was starting to see the aftermath, and I was terrified. I finally determined that there were no yes/no answers regarding many of these things, or the aftermath; I would need to adopt an entirely new way of thinking if I were to survive, not just the aftermath, but then, right then as DJ lay there dying. So I embraced the gray...I had to, I needed to be completely in it for anything to make sense, waking, eating, cleaning up, answering the phone, I stopped asking yes or no, I just ''did''...I'm sure there's a name for the state I was end...I haven't bothered to try and look for it, all I know is that I was there and in there, clear cut answers are nowhere to be found.  As I attempt to retrain my brain to the new ways of thinking required in the aftermath, I have one last hard and sharp image of an ''on/off'' moment...it's the image of me the counting seconds between DJ's last breaths as she slipped away early one morning; at one point, after counting to about 23 or 25 seconds I stopped, DJ's breathing was ''off'', I understood that...I turned out the light by the lounger and laid my head in her lap and cried; there was no gray here, just the pure, natural blues. 

The following 2 or 3 months I was not only engulfed by the gray again, I became part of it I think.  Nothing I thought about, did, remembered, or even wanted to do could be solved by my Binary brain, there were big changes in store for my mental framework and I had no idea of them.  I lived in that fog I'm sure we all can relate to; a place where hard and fast answers to even the most basic of things becomes a challenge to the mind. A place where long held beliefs are brought to the light of scrutiny, and examined for even the tiniest flaw, and even matters of self worth are brought into question, skirting on the edges of guilt.  For sure it is a strange place, this gray; strangely enough life continues, even through the gray, necessary things are done, questions are posed and answered, plans are made and executed...there are still some ''yes/no'', ''on/off'' things in this different way of living, but not many for me now...but, that may change...somehow, my brain was able to connect the new, fledgling endpoints and at least help me see the possibility how I might go forward and live...yes, grief is indeed a strange and painful journey and no, once brought on the road we do not get off; If we are fortunate, we develop a new design for living through the gray and although it isn't necessarily easy, it can hold promise and hope and that's something even my Binary brain can understand today.  

No wHere

In the first few weeks following DJ's death, as I wandered along on this path of grief, this path filled with so much pain, the journey led me to often stumble blindly down the side roads of despair, confusion, and fear, among others. For me, all of those roads eventually rejoined the main one and the journey continues on that path towards what I want to be my destination, acceptance.  During these travels, the emotional ruts and potholes have taken their toll, shaking loose some of my long held ideas about living and life. And Death.  They have cause me to not only reexamine those things but also to have to deal with ideas concerning the future and look down those very same side roads once again.  See, those roads are not restricted to those borders surrounding grief, I am finding (remembering?) that they are a natural part of everyday life and we have been down most of them before...only not alone.  In that early time, even before the shock had worn off, before the disbelief had started to fade, and well before the sheer, almost unimaginably deep pain, which consumed me for a while, had begun to ease, fear and bewilderment as to what I would do to carry on, held sway.  

In those early weeks I sought out information where ever I could, one of the best pieces of advice I was given was that I had to actively grieve or be run over by the process itself...fortunately, I was able to believe this information, I joined GriefShare, found a local church group, spent time with a group of widows who meet weekly at a local public library ...I was willing to try and do anything which would help me from feeling so alone, and ease that damn pain. Slowly I have found that for me there is somewhat of a paradox at work here...in as much as a lot of the things that I need to do to go forward are not unlike things we had to do before...for me, they are at once, the same and totally different.  Why now, that many of them seem so new and difficult, I can only attribute to DJ's absence, but for sure, I am starting to realize that I have seen them before.  Before, we had problems with overcharges from the various utilities, they were annoying and could usually be resolved be a phone call...or two.....or three....but they would eventually be worked out; there were the instances where the hot water heater had decided that it had performed long enough and retirement was in order; and who among us has not had their refrigerator decide, right before major company was to arrive, that our notion to keep food cool was of no importance, and that ice chests would be needed until a service person could make an appearance...no, these things and others like them occurred before we lost our mates, it was a bother, but they just didn't appear to have had the same effect they have on us today...I think we can thank grief for that.

Before, that minor incident at the job would be discussed, and vented about as our partners would listen, maybe offer comforting remarks, or make suggestions about such future situations, and it would be put away well before dinner; now that same incident can have us scrambling for the nearest exit to find refuge lest we turn in a pitiful puddle on the spot, and have us agonizing and resenting it for days.  Not having that secure knowledge that our backs are not only covered, but covered without reservation is truly one of the most difficult things I have found.  This, and things like the above mentioned, now can seem to beyond our ability to deal with them; it appears our encounter with grief has lulled us into forgetting phrases such as 'self reliance', or 'I can handle this'.  Due in part to this practice of active grieving, I have begun to recognize a lot of the ''got cha's'' that crop up, not only have been seen before, but dealt with, and dealt with effectively; this is not imply that any of this is any easier, merely to point out that we can call up the necessary skills to deal with just about any situation, after all, we did not come this far by accident.  I am trying to challenge the ideas which grief almost insists we have, that because we have suffered a tremendous loss, we have become helpless to the extreme.  Actually, I think we have become more empowered to deal with the obstacles that may be presented to us as we go forward; many us feel that the worse thing which could happen, has happened, and this can free us to apply new methods and attitudes to solving old problems as we can be daring enough with the only thing at risk is the possibility that we may just have to try another way, (it's always been that way, really) feeling only so bad that the outcome is not what we wanted. As the fog clears, we can recall ourselves, our very capable selves.

The point of all of this is to remind us that like many things in life, facing the challenges of our respective futures, tho fraught with the pitfalls of everyday life, should not make us forget the true power we possess; the power we always possessed. For sure, the stormy winds of grief which have battered us to exhaustion, has help to make us doubt our own, hard won life experiences and put our sanity in question at times; but we will do well to remember that we are capable.  So, we can turn out attention to those things which at first, seem so overwhelming now, with a new vigor of spirit; as the pain eases, we are realizing that we have seen much of this before; we take to that misfit of a lawn mower which always used to start on the first pull and remember the crack about our being ''too sad'' made by our good friend...we pull...the mower starts...well, maybe not, but at least we don't have to take it as a sign to declare the world at an end...that stack of forms we have to complete, tho daunting, can remind us that yes, we can still read, think, and understand; tho the act may be tedious, it is not beyond us, especially as we recall reading the looks on all those faces which dared to look at once with such pity or disdain...we have dealt with both before...we are now just having to do these things alone, but past lessons can be brought to the fore.  

For me, being able to examine these things in this light has helped to avoid many of the crashes some of us experience as we are presented with them...we are not amateurs at life, not one of us, age not being a factor; it's simply that the grief caused by the loss of that person we are so accustomed to having by our side, has attempted to blind us to our own strengths; but we can see again.  We can remember that despite everything, we can function and not be stifled by indecision stemming from unknowing or the fact that we may have to make the decisions alone...we do know, we can remember, and an honest approach to our future demands that we recognize this. We may pause to consider, we may linger at the edge of what to do next, but we do these things knowing that we are prepared to move forward on all fronts; understanding that because of the grief, we may sometimes feel inadequate in all areas of our lives was a major breakthrough for me; recognizing that much of what I need to do today, has always been needed to be done, this allowed me to dismiss a lot of the doubts concerning just what would happen next, second guessing can continue, it was always there and still is, but I don't have to give it any more weight than necessary just because I'm making the first guess alone.  

I am determined that grief only have so much of me; that it can only cause this unique disruption of my peace of mind, my hopes for the future, and my thoughts on my own self esteem and ability for so long.  Accepting that some sadness will remain, that weepy days and heart wallops may be expected, there is still only so much we can surrender. Understanding that many of the challenges we face are truly difficult as we reset our lives...but that these things would be more than a handful in the best of situations...with the lost of our mates, they can easily lead us to think that they are insurmountable, but our lives reminds us they are not.  In my efforts to understand that these things appeared more weighty now only because of DJ's absence, it is becoming more clearer to me that I have to give it it's necessary due; but debts always had to be met, paperwork has always come into play as we built our lives, the tales regarding the varying temperaments of dishwashers, washing machines, lawn mowers, automobiles, hot water heaters, toilets, computers, cell phones, refrigerators, unruly children, all seeing neighbors, non-knowing relatives, automated phone menus, lazy office workers, unreliable handy people, and.....back biting friends, are legend, but I'm hoping to make my view of this chapter a bit different.  Those things mentioned above are not new to us, the shared burden of them were a lot easier to carry, but they were always there. That I keep this in mind is important to me.

For me, I want DJ's death to be the last thing that overwhelms me for quite sometime to come,  and that it might send me for a loop into un-sureness and bewilderment is just temporary. The other everyday tho not necessarily pedestrian things of life will be handled with renewed gusto, being properly given their required attention, they are nowhere, that's Now and Here, but not to the point of worry or distress due to feelings of inadequacy. Listen, we am, damn, and, can do. 


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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

    

JustHOW

Willingness...to be willing...

For a couple of weeks following DJ's death, on the mornings everyone could make it, we had come to have breakfast at the house DJ and I shared.  Sometimes it was just me and one or two of the children, mostly it was all of us, the two girls and our son...we really needed each other during that time when shock and pain were constant companions, and the atmosphere of disbelief was still thick and pervaded almost every thought. Today, I'm glad we did that; it appears to have been our own form of group treatment.  We would talk about DJ of course, but our conversations were not limited to just that.  Sitting around the dining room table we would reveal some of our own personal thoughts along with the fears and hopes we were experiencing. I think we were really trying to check to make sure we were all going to survive this.  At times the talk would be about others we knew who had suffered a loss, and about what we had observed in them during their crisis, and some of the affects we had noticed. Today, looking back after even this so short of a time, I realize how naive we were about grief and grieving.  As I recall our discussions, I am almost embarrassed by just how ignorant and unschooled we were when it came to understanding just what the true impact and ramifications DJ' death would have on and for us all beyond her physical absence.  At one point my oldest daughter spoke of a friend's father; he was the survivor of losing his wife of many years and was now carrying on alone.  She mentioned how the man's daughter had said that in most areas he was managing just fine, but that her mother's sweater and purse still hung on a chair in their dining room where she had last placed them, over a year before; and that the dad had said they were fine just where they were when she had went to move them. I distinctly remember saying that I really didn't want to become like that, that I didn't want to become a ''grief junkie''...I would be more on top of things, more able to deal with such minor things as clothes and other personal effects; hadn't I went through and laid out all of DJ's things the first week after the service?...had not I pressed the girls, that first evening of DJ's death to go through the jewelry and make the best determinations as to what should be done with which?...just that then current week, didn't I display poise as I neatly stacked rows of shoe containers in the front room for them to sort through, examine and give further life to?...yes, I had, and had felt damn proud of myself for being able to ''come to grips'' with these visible articles of DJ's life so soon with such aplumb. Ignorance is truly bliss; add a dash of arrogance, a measure of shock and a pinch of inexperience, and you have a fool's paradise.  My Eden had a apple waiting for me and the things I would learn later, would nearly destroy me. 

The actual facts behind my behavior are a bit different...o.k., more than a bit, a lot different; although I did not know it then, I was operating in shock mode.  I was doing certain things in an attempt to convince myself that I was ''coping'', handling my business...when in reality I think I was displaying my version of anger at the death of DJ...not anger at her or any one, specific thing, but angry at the entire situation, but this is just a guess. You may well wonder what all of this has to do with willingness...I will try to expand.

We still have meals together at that dining room table and DJ's death is naturally still a topic of conversations, but not the only topic, and definitely not in the same environment of dread and bewilderment we experienced during that early time when everything was so fresh and raw.  Today we can speak of other things with DJ being a part of the regular flow of the back and forth. Of course her loss is still monumental in our lives, but much better understood and and for some of us accepted.  Recently we were having evening take-out dinner and everyone was present, even Ms. McKoKo, as we ate and talked, someone made reference to those early days when we would share the meals at breakfast. We talked about how fearful we had been at the time, how much in pain and pure terror we had all felt; someone mentioned that, although it has only been a few months, it seemed like a lifetime ago...I thought for a moment, and said ''...it is a lifetime ago,...DJ's''...I'm grateful the comment did not put a damper on the general cheeriness, for it was not intended to, for me, it was just a statement of fact.  As the conversation continued, my youngest daughter, the princess, soon to be deposed ala Ms. McKoKo, asked the oldest daughter about the man with the purse and sweater thing...how was he doing &ct...

As the talk faded into the background for me, my own mind retraced that earlier conversation when this was first mentioned; my mind focusing on an image of the man walking into that room each time and seeing that purse and sweater hanging on that chair. In those days, I could only imagine his actual feelings at the sight, but I can and do personally relate to them now; having had my own personalized brand of it thrown in my face more than once by forgotten flip-flops, wall hangings, carelessly placed Reboks and the like...there is a different dimension to my thinking on that these days; my somewhat flippant remarks about his need to have those things remain the way they were, and my almost phobic concern about turning into a ''grief junkie'', have come back not only to bite me in the ass, but to linger and chew persistently for a while. However, in line with dealing with the future I have become willing to change my first reaction to the entire episode, maybe the above mentioned items forced me to this; today I understand that DJ's lone flip-flop, evidently overlooked in my initial gathering session, which resides under the foot of our bed, is just fine where it is. The wall hanging is not to be touched...ever, or at least not in my ever...and the Reboks are doing very well occupying that space next to the base of the Salon chair, they're in nobody's way, anyhow.

This stands as an example for me about how Willingness to change has to be a central part for me if I am to survive and live what I have in mind for my future; intractability will not serve me here, inflexibility can destroy any chances I might have about a future with contentment as an main ingredient.  For me, recognizing that this is another step, in unison with Honesty & Openness which can give me a fair chance at improving my outlook and my actual living a different life, is paramount. Today I have a better understanding of what the man may have been experiencing as he saw that purse and sweater each day; the thoughts that seared through his mind are better understood by me, not totally, but a lot better.  As the days and months have passed and I have been exposed to the nuances of grief, the meaning of those things hanging from that chair have became a focal point in my thinking about death, grief and living.  Simply because I have decided to immerse myself in the death of DJ for a while, becoming a grief junkie for that while does not mean that it is necessarily a bad thing.  I had to do that, for me, I had to allow myself to be overpowered by all the feelings that come along with understanding just what has been lost. If I had not, I would not today be able to consider the concept of willingness, or any of the others.  It was a necessary stretch of the road I had to travel, leading me to the ideas I am hoping to put into practice for the chance of a realistically content future.  

Practicing this Willingness may not be as difficult as it first appears for me; I have had some practice at it from a prior illness and it served me well then.  From experience, I am aware that it can provide a means to aiding me in accepting what has happened and for whatever the future might have in store. I have come to understand that the  shock of grief had blocked access to the recall of this experience and the benefits it can yield.  But today, Willingness goes into my toolbox, it completes the triad, and becomes H O W I can approach the future with hope for a better time, and have a belief in a more desirable place in which for me to thrive; with just a bit of

                                               H onesty O penness W illingness

I believe that if we put just ten percent of the effort we spend in grieving, into trying to practice those three things in regards to our ideas of the future, the odds are good that some progress and success can be attained. The task cannot be too difficult, the challenge too great...we have suffered the worse, we have been made to face the unimaginable and have not been found wanting; those who read these simple lines have survived the shock, the disbelief to arrive at a point where we now want to know, Just HOW...just how do we regroup to go forward, just how do we sort through and organize the thoughts which fly in and out of our minds, how do we find those safe places for the memories and emotions which we know will be with us from now on...how do we arm ourselves against the drops of the roller coaster and crash of the waves of grief...these are the serious and valid questions we are faced with as we try to envision a future. As I've stated earlier, there are no hard and fast universal answers, we apply an idea here and a suggestion there in order to see if they aid us in our journey, we recognize that the process may involve time and persistence, we accept that there will be days of doubt and nights of unbearable loneliness, for a while this may be our lot...but only for a while because slowly, hour by hour, day by day, we are finding out Just HOW.   

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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