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