ChangingWhens

''...I remember what she said to me, how she swore that it never would end...wish I didn't  know now, what I didn't know then...against the wind..'' - (from 'Against The Wind', Bob Seeger - 1980)


After thinking, concentrating and deliberating about all that has happened over the past 9 months, there are a few things of which am fairly certain; that grief visits many new and frightening emotions upon us is not in question.  Our challenge is to decipher those emotions and thoughts, and see how they will be applied to this different life.  In the beginning this is not easy...we are in a fog, stunned beyond all previous understanding of the word, we are cast into a state of confusion and aquire a sense of hoplessness as we have not know before.  We all know the feelings I'm speaking of, the shock, the terror, the tremendous sense of loss and bewilderment...and of course, always...the loneliness, the damn loneliness. At least six of those months were spent purposely wallowing deep in grief; I'm not talking about a state of wallow as you might first think.  I don't mean the strictly narrow view of grief as one might suspect...not the trapped in self pity wallow so much; not the pity-party wallow, where we imagine all the misfortunes that there ever has been, have decided to take up residence in our lives...no, the wallow I speak of for me was about immersing myself in every aspect of DJ's death which I could think of. Making this wallow a parallel life of it's own, existing with the everyday things which must done; working, eating, visiting, making plans, laughing, crying...living. This goes far beyond investigating and exposing my feelings concerning my her loss; this entails trying to understand how that loss actually gave birth to those feeling, and why their impact has been so profound.  It is an ongoing journey that has revealed to me many things of which I was not aware of before.

This was a purposeful submersion...not knowing what I intended to find, but knowing that for me, it had to be done.  Some may wonder, why bother...it is loss and it will be felt; that is true, but as I sat in that window, leaning forward...thinking...pondering, trying to elicit some type of meaning from all that had happened, and which had caused this tremendous upheaval, not only in my physical, day to to day living, but in that most dangerous of places for me, my own mind, I knew it had to be done. It was clear to me from the outset that the things which I discovered probably would not be of my liking; that many of the answers I sought would not be found, and for sure, much of it I would never understand, but the attempt has to be made...the immersion had to be complete.

The hospice service we used had left information on grief and grieving, among the items were a  card which simply said ' GriefShare Bereavement Services'...I started with that.  In all my years it had never occurred to me that there were such services. Picking up at the fourth session of twelve, I attended the remaining 9.  The information and fellowship I found there did make some of the things I was going through a bit easier. They addressed the issues of shock, bewilderment, and discussed the searing pain almost all of us there were feeling; there was talk of ''roller coaster'' rides and ''waves of grief'' which we could expect, but for how long was unknown. I had been under the impression that I could do this all at once...have all the pain, all the hurt in one neat package, deal with it, and be done; I had no idea what I was up against. Of course, that was when I knew everything.

Our life together really started during DJ's senior year in High School, with my interest in other females at an all time low, and her passion for my best friend finally extinguished, we declared to one another.  From the morning after her prom, when, after having explained to her my big idea of us, and her accepting, we were inseparable. We talked constantly of the future and the things we wanted to do, naturally she would have to have a ring, an engagement ring. I had been hoarding a few hundred dollars, a small fortune to me at the time, for a new motorcycle, or possibly a trip overseas...it was decided that some of that money would be better spent on something to alert the world to our decision.  We went to a jeweler's and negotiated for a token.  Of course the one she really wanted, we couldn't afford, but the nice saleslady there offered that we could select a more modest model, make regular payments and after having built a record with them, upgrade to what we really wanted; so, it was done. DJ chose what would serve as the stand in, something which was decent enough to let everyone know we were serious, and just flashy enough to make her friends at school more than a bit jealous, she was a senior at the time. Over the next few months I made the payments religiously; we watched the coupons dwindle in the small book which served as our guide to how close we were to being able to upgrade.  At some point, before the end of summer that year, we called the jeweler's and confirmed that it was time, and we could come and choose another ring; we made plans, picked  a Saturday to do it, and waited anxiously for the day to arrive.

Now, the store was ''downtown'', about 25 blocks from where we lived, one way, and normally we would ride the bus there, (my car having to wait for repairs because of our current endeavor...); at the end of this particular summer, the bus drivers in our city were on strike when the Saturday came...if we wanted to get to the store, we would have to walk...a taxi was never considered. Twenty-five blocks may not sound like much to most folks, but to us city kids it was huge. It was decided we would walk; I had mixed emotions about the idea, but DJ would not be denied. We walked...and walked....it took most of that Saturday to get to the store an back...the next time I would actually walk so far, would be under threat of that not doing so would lead to a court martial.  DJ wore those rings for the next 25 years, with the next upgrade coming at the renewal of our vows on that anniversary date. As I recalled all of this, it came to my mind that this had been our first joint venture, part of our first steps towards a life together, a life we had no idea of, and about which, we could never have dreamed of. Having had this minor success, we felt we could conquer the world, anything was possible, (''...there was no stopping us now!...''); such are the thoughts of young love. We were sure we knew just about everything; actually we were headed into that wind.

Today I am brought to earth as I listen to Seeger lamenting the disadvantage of getting older, learning more, and often understanding even less.  That thorough wallowing I indulged in revealed just how many things I simply wish I didn't know now...I wish I didn't know about Chemo, blood counts, colons, side effects, picc lines, deductibles, Cobra, disability, and.... Medicare, morphine, hospice, and certain rites, just to name a few.  I know for a fact that I could have done without the knowledge of extreme sadness, terrifying panic, and the despair and aches of loneliness; these things I surely could have bypassed in my continuing education. But, I do know about these things, and the wallow introduced me to them and many others in a more meaningful way. To say it was a painful exercise would be the epitome of understatement, I would take that Saturday walk we had any day rather than having to go through it, but it did serve a purpose, the examination paved the way for me to view this journey as another step in life I had to take and, it has made it a bit easier to travel at this point.   

Gaining a comfortable perspective on DJ' death is a double edge affair; on the one hand a lot of the pain and anguish associated with it is removed, everyday is a lot easier without fearing a breakdown at any given moment.  On the other hand there a sense of uneasiness in accepting the fact that she really is gone, and that I might get used to it...no matter, that is how it is coming to me, and much of what Seeger sings about in Against The Wind appears to reflect my sentiments exactly...I am starting to think that my getting used to being without DJ is simply not going to happen, more likely I will find some way to trick myself into living with the fact of her absence.

So, into another wind we head, this gale of a different life which brings many unknowns with it as it whips past us.  Contained within are specks of memories which can sting the heart and produce tears in our eyes; carried along with it also is the debris of past dreams and wishes which can bowl us over or have us reaching for the nearest lamppost of the familiar just to keep from being swept away.  Yes, it is a powerful blow, a personal nor'easter that we all must face at some point during our journey of grief, because that is the goal; to head into the strong breeze of a different life. For me, the cloak of hope I wear for this, tho incomplete, does contain sections of a new understanding and a greater appreciation for this experience we call life; the threads which join them are sturdy, being fashioned from the knowledge gained from understanding peers, steadfast and loyal family members and the benefit of months of self examination. We shall see how this garment stands up to this particular wind of change; I am sure a lot will have to do with how I dress myself in it. But at least I have an idea of it...that very elusive, somewhat amorphous fabric of hope. 









 



 

Rote It

Having been able to admit that some measure of acceptance is being attained, it is a bit easier for me to recall the life that DJ and I shared over the years.  The exercise has ran the entire gamut of human emotions and has required me to remember and honestly face not only the facts of that life, but my own behavior during that time.  At the start, soon after DJ's death, when it was suggested to me that in order for me to have any chance of surviving the journey through grief, because of other disorders I have, I would have to really remember and examine my life...our life; I was stricken with fear.  This was not because I was afraid of what I would be forced to face, no, this was because in those earlier days, that most horrible of times, when my mind was filled with so much shock, doubt and despair, that even the thought of the next moment was a challenge, I could not seem to really recall or make any sense of our life.  At that time my mind, stunned by the sense of loss DJ's dying left me with, was unable to organize clothes to wear, let alone make an attempt to review just what had made up our life together.  But, I was told, it had to be done; not that second, not that moment, but at some point it would be necessary for my mental well being.  
As those early days came and went in a blur, as I performed the necessary tasks almost automatically, and, I say almost automatically because many of the things that were required, I had never done before, let alone done without DJ, and as I sought help in attempting to deal with her loss, my mind was in a panic.  Being so raw, so exposed, I had trouble recalling her voice, even certain features of her face (without looking at a picture), I had no idea how I would go about doing what had been suggested.  As I did not feel comfortable enough with any third party to talk to them about all this, not in any honest and meaningful way, and because I knew instinctively that those family members with whom I needed to share this with were not prepared to hear it...not then, as they had their own issues to deal with regarding DJ's death, it was suggested I write it all down.  I was told that it did not matter how I wrote it, when I wrote it, or whether I thought it was important or not...the idea was to get it outside of me, as much of it as I could remember.  I was told all of this was necessary because of my personality type...now, I have no idea what that was suppose to mean, maybe that well educated person who suggested this knows, and being in the pain I was experiencing, I was willing to try anything once, despite my own ideas of their fine education, so I wrote.
Now, I understand that this may not be for everyone; that some of us may choose not to remember so much or go in such depth, of course there is no one way which we all must follow.  Our losses are too personal, too close to us for that to be the case.  Many of us do not wish to visit the pain and hurt anymore than necessary, and this does not appear to be a hindrance to healing, actually it reinforces the notion that we are all different, and that our approach to dealing with loss, and our attempts to heal will be varied and highly personalized. I feel that in this, is exposed the fact that we are all uniquely individual, and that our requirements are just as unique and singular. For me, this may have been necessary, this in depth probing of the memories, the examination of our life together, the how's and why's, the questions...I'm sure there are other ways I may have taken, but who really knows; this just happens to be what was suggested, and what appealed to me.
The very first things I put down were related to the DJ's last weeks and days, only because they were so fresh in my memory; we were fortunate in that up until a couple of months before her death, she had been lucid and reasonably active.  When the final throes began, the time between them and the end was, again relatively short. What came to mind was the most terrible day of them all, the Sunday before the Tuesday morning she died; it had been the worse day for us and, it appeared for her too.  Her breathing had been labored and erratic that entire day, I had tried to ease her efforts, but it still remained a struggle. Later as I thought about that day I cried, uncontrollably as i repeated over and over, ''Lord, please let me have done the best things, Donna, I hope I did the right things for you...'' ...over and over; recalling this was hard as I was just not certain of anything; the following day, Monday, her normal breathing had returned and she appeared to be at peace...as I look over the pages from that early time, I am struck that this lasted for over a week, this questioning; I wrote it down several times in different places, in different ways, but it all meant the same thing...now, it does not seem to have been that long, that particular week.  I imagine this had something to do with the guilt many of us can feel, this remembering...or perhaps a nod to the helplessness we all experience at the loss of our loved ones, especially if we are caregivers and are there to observe the last instances of the process; we are exposed to the limits of our human-ness, we are pressed to understand the lack of control we actually have over things...but I'm only guessing here..I really don't know...but this has helped me to expunge some of the grief demons, and to really focus on what is in front of me in this different life.

As I searched those early notes for more pleasant memories, I came across one describing  DJ's last birthday party held the year before...when she was better, active; the notes described my gratefulness that we got to enjoy that time and had a lot of folks over.  In the writings I mentioned how I remembered the small birthday hat she wore during it, about how cute I thought it looked on her, covering her head and short hair, about how much fun everyone had, despite the seriousness of DJ's condition; how she and I and the children all acted so silly together, thoroughly enjoying ourselves. Many pictures and much video was taken that night. The pages went on...leaping forward to her last birthday party, which was exactly a month and a week before her death; out of town relatives were there, including her younger sister who gave DJ a small photo album chronicling past days she, and all of us had shared. DJ, tho using a wheelchair by this time, smiled as she slowly flipped the pages as we all watched; there were only a couple of her very close friends at this gathering, there was much talking and laughing by all of us, but the background was heavy with a sense of knowing. I wrote that I remembered another birthday party we had given her, well the children actually came up with the idea and did most of the heavy lifting to pull it off. It was for her 50th, and they wanted to make it special...a hall was rented, food ordered and elaborate plans were put in motion to conceal everything from DJ.  The cover story had been that the kids were taking her to dinner at a very hoity-toity establishment, so only the best finery would do; we would all drive there together and have a great meal.  But, on the way, our youngest daughter would have to stop and drop off some small boxes for a friend; being that it would take all of us to bring the boxes in and DJ could not sit in the car alone, she would come in also. When we received the call that all was ready at the designated place, we drove there. As we make a big deal of parking near the entrance and gathering boxes we all headed in, naturally, since she wasn't carrying any DJ would go in first and open doors. Well of course when she opened the second door, the party took off...I looked down at those pages they were stained, wrinkled; I remember tears streaming down my face that morning I wrote that memory down....

These were they types of things that came to my mind in that early and raw time, good times bad times...times...for months I wrote as much down as I could remember, with fresh memories being triggered by another memory and another, and another, and... ...At the start, I do not recall feeling any better...just exhausted, weepy, and sometimes physically sick. I remember the sharp pains, the pounding in my chest constantly for a while, and the crying, uncontrollably often, as I made an honest effort to write down everything I could think of.  It is interesting that once I started, and despite the tears and pain, I kept on writing things down, kept on recalling some very painful things...

So, at this juncture, where I am beginning to court acceptance and the idea that a decent future for me appears possible, I am grateful to that fine, educated (but misguided in many ways) individual. Today everything is a bit easier, the realization that DJ will always be missing from my earthly forever travels with me without paralyzing me; catching myself at the thought that maybe I should call and see if she needs me to bring anything in, does not deliver the powerhouse blow it once did; the idea that I will never again hear her say  '' ...Bay, did you say one or two...? '', tho still painful to think of, does not cripple me with the shock and disbelief it once did. Time and memories have softened their impact and I can concentrate on  what it is I need to do to live this different life.  Those months ago, early on, I would not have thought I could feel this way today...but I do...and it feels good!  That the belief of hope exists there is no doubt, our challenge may be to exercise faith in that hope.  The difference between those two, belief and faith is greater I think than it first appears; it was explained to me once that you may have a belief that a bridge is strong enough to carry your weight; faith enters when you actually place your foot on that bridge and begin to travel across it. I feel more than ready to continue this journey across that bridge.                                                                  
                                               October 2010                                                                                                                               

    50th Birthday

                                                              

     







                                                               

iDentity Born

It has been nine months since DJ died...early on I had pledged not to become a slave to the dates; I had read and seen enough of the anguish it caused some of us and I decided I didn't want to become a victim of the emotions I had seen described...still...that time....those months...if I take an average of a 30 day month, that's 270 days; DJ and I were married for 14,400 days, we knew each other for over a thousand more days than that. It's ironic that nine months just happens to be the gestation period for human beings normally before they are brought into this world...the time required for a ''new life'' to develop.  The thought struck me that in those nine months, a different, new life has developed for me too. And much like that embryo which can grow during that time, I didn't have much choice in going through those months; it simply happened (ha!). In that time an embryo develops the necessary physical means to survive in the world outside of the womb...it's mental development will begin once it's introduced to that world.

Thinking about all of this lead me to draw a parallel to my own life over those months..how, like that embryo I did not ask to be put here, but I am here...how both of our journeys to new, outside world required us to grow and produce various attributes to survive; for it, to adapt to the outside physical world beyond that of it's mother's body, for me, the world outside this cocoon of grief. They are two very different places as I view them, these places we come from after these months; the one providing safety, protection and nourishment, the other offering unimaginable pain, and at times, terror, despair, and anguish. It is a curious parallel indeed. The pain, if any, that embryo endures after having come full term, tho it is the cost of passage to that outside world, we have no knowledge of, it doesn't remember, it cannot talk if it did remember, and often appears to sleep immediately after entering this world.  Our breakout is not so forgiving, it has no built in memory protection, if fact I believe an honest evaluation of the entire spectrum of our memories is required in order for us to escape it...

But we are not as fortunate as that term embryo, we are not afforded the luxury of loss of memory during our emergence in whatever large or small way from the envelop of grief; with large or small meaning just how ready we are to really move forward.  In fact, to even reach the maturity to be prepared to move through it, we have to use memory, and memories to assist us in understanding what will be required for us to live in our ''new birth''.  Tragically, sometimes the embryos are stillborn...and so it is with grief; some of us are destined to be held in perpetual widowhood, with the reasons for that being both varied and valid...truly a curious situation. In my own case I think I have avoided that stillbirth as today I feel better prepared to face the ''new life'', not totally prepared, just better equipped to deal with it.  The time in my grief cocoon has been spent, from the day of DJ's departure, in an attempt to grasp, understand, and accept what has happened and the ramifications for the remainder of my life.  it has been a time of intense pain and amazing self revelations; a period replete with the entire range of human emotions laid bare...exposed not only for me to have to review, but in some instances for all those in my immediate and not so immediate life circle to be privy to as well.  I was as unaware of all of this, as is that sleeping possibility in the womb...unknowing of the many twists and turns my mind would endure or where they would lead me...from that first budding kernel of realization that DJ was no longer with me to the forming of some ideas as to how to reorient my mind to just what that meant in real terms for my future mental and physical well being.  

I have mentioned before that I claim no special knowledge in this grief area, no inside tips or tricks to our surviving it with any modicum of sanity; just the detailing of my own personal experience through it, and some of the thoughts that have occurred to me during the journey.  But unlike that emerging being from that womb which often rests after it's entry into the new world waiting for it, there is very little resting for those of us attempting to affect our own birth into our new lives. Work is required...thoughts and ideas have to be dealt with, certain emotions having to be brought under reign, and a certain vigilance is required for us to have any type of successful entry, through the grief.  I feel I am at that certain point...that point of exiting from the cocoon and into the new life through greif; tho not nearly completely healed, I feel in far better shape than those first raw, and seemingly unreal days and weeks.  That time when looking ahead, for me meant checking outside of the window to insure I was up high enough to guarantee that I would not survive once I leaned all of the way out of it. I do not say these things lightly, this is serious business to us who are trying to adapt to the new life before us, unwanted as it may be. I am finding that altho I can feel the emergence, even welcome it, unlike that newborn, i do not get to sleep after the pain of entry, and I get to remember every damn thing about the process.

Today, as I welcome hope and the possible as newly rediscovered friends, I am aware that the work for me is not over, that there is still much to do in this new life, that being born into it is only another part of the process, and that now, It will be necessary for me to actually accept and implement those things I have learned while in the cocoon...see, that embryo for all it's glory as a tribute to miracles, cannot tell us one thing about it's life inside; but we can speak of the things we endured during our time in the cocoon of grief. We can recall and relate the agony of realization, we can denote those events which cause anguish, pain and terror. We can trumpet the small victories achieved during that time, and can possibly accept some of the shattering revelations we learn about ourselves and those whom we once thought were so willing to be our friends. These can be hard things...very hard things indeed, but birth has always been that way and we should expect this one to be no less painful, with our feeling the pain of our own labor as well as those near and dear to us.  After these months, It is somewhat unsettling to have a memory and not experience so much pain; to see a specific item an not tear up, to lie in the quiet night without the demons of past memories and events torturing us and providing the sleeplessness we all have come to know so well. Unsettling, but welcomed...it is what we have been striving for, and for me, I feel confident enough to say that this is happening.  I waited a full month before mentioning it here because in the past I have had stunted starts...times when I thought I was ready, but like false labor pains, they were only precursors to the actual delivery.

Of course DJ remains in my every other thought and at certain times, my every thought, but now, thinking of her is not quite as painful as it once was; from the memory of that early morning which does not seem that long ago, as we sat in my car after her Prom when I explained to her how she had to be my girlfriend, and later, my wife; when I let her know that I was prepared to accept the answer she gave, either ''...yes...'' or ''...hell yes...'', as there was simply no third way...to the memory of another morning which does sometimes seem very long ago, as she lay there, quietly passing on before my eyes and when the answers this time were required of me, with all our yes'es' having been explored and the futility of the no's exposed for their glaring helplessness and me being forced to accept some third way; all of these memories and more come with less pain and more understanding.  It is my hope that they remain that way, becoming even more commonplace without garnering the contempt that is so often associated with familiarity. 

I offer these thoughts merely as a report, as an observation on my own progress; not knowing fully how to describe or explain it, only knowing that it has, and is happening and yes...it feels good.  Losing apprehension about having your next thought, being freed of the fear of closing our eyes in any attempt to blot out the world, having to ability and freedom to believe, to have hope, to live without so much pain is indeed as much a miracle for many of us, as is that of a human birth...I am embracing my past 9 months...I am trying to view them as that time required for my development to be prepared for birth into my ''new life''. For me, this is very serious stuff because at various points along the way my sanity has been in jeopardy and even my continued existence. The work involved was not all of my own either...this required the assistance from many others including friends and family, and it does require me to be honest, open and willing to some degree and to actually ''walk'' what had become my ''talk''.  I am well aware that the timing of this as it relates to human development may be merely a coincidence, a random occurrence at some given point on my journey through grief; that i choose to view in relation to that development is my own doing, with the full understanding that each of us have different timelines in our efforts to gain acceptance, and I believe that is what we are all trying to gain.....some acceptance.  For sure there will be a new identity born for me from this, that has not yet taken place fully; here, I am just emerging into a position which will make that identity possible.