aLong the Way

 

“Hope in the beginning feels like such a violation of the loss, and yet without it we couldn't survive.”     ― Gail Caldwell, Let's Take the Long Way Home: A Memoir of Friendship

Two Years. 24 months. 104 weeks. No great discussion here on the concept of time; no in depth attempt at analyzing that curious phenomenon which can play such an important part in our lives; just an acknowledgement of that span as a marker, indicating how long it has been since that morning when DJ took her final breaths and life change forever for me and our family. Nor is this an exercise to debate whether the second year is worse, or easier or harder or happier or sadder or...  I have come to believe that we all have to come to those types of determinations for ourselves and can only listen as we hear the experiences of others as we now know we have to make these answers real for us.

Actually it's a little longer than two years for me, I waited till the end of the month to put these words to print, altho DJ died 11.08.11. The approach of the date presented me with no great challenges as from the start of the Journey, I have consciously worked at avoiding being a victim of the dates...any dates. They will come around each year I'm alive and with the roller coaster of Grief being quite enough of a ride, I do not want to add another emotional dip to the mix. It has not been a total success, but the dates have been softer for me. At this point I can at least look back and chart the steps along the Journey, I hesitate to use the word ''progress'' as I'm not sure if it is accurate or not; no matter, at any rate I stand at this point and understand, if only a small bit better some of what has occurred and have a somewhat better understanding of the impact this all has had on my life. Considering the mental state I was in when I arrived at this site, I Know it's Providence which has me here today, that and the kindly folks I met here. Regarding the quote at the top of this page, hope, at the start of this, for me, did not exist. My emotional landscape was so desolate that the appearance of anything other than pain and despair did not seem possible. The crushing weight of the early realization, coupled with a gnawing knowledge that things could never return to what they once were...the seemingly hollowness of thinking about living forward without DJ...the terror brought on by confusion and by having no experience at losing one so damn dear to me, these and more helped move me to the outer edge of that open window, it appearing to offer at least some quiet to the raging storm which ran constantly through my mind; any notions of hope being swept out of consciousness by the powerful emotional winds the storm can carry.

But, we can find that having hope is possible; we can come to believe that living forward can be achieved, even if our understanding of the events remains clouded and unclear. Heeding the words of those whose experience with the Journey was greater than my own, I was able to somewhat calm my mind and approach my path one step at a time.  As the fog cleared and the shock wore off, I was able to begin reviewing memories and coming to terms with the facts of the then current situation. Understanding that my mind was my own worse enemy, I tried to remain honestly focused on what had happened and just how it was making me feel. Finding that I could not relegate DJ's death to my own personal domain and use that as an excuse for the ultimate escape, I was forced to view what had occurred in the greater context of what it meant to me...to Fred in the scheme of my life; that chapter of DJ's life had come to an end and altho the memory of it will always be carried by me for as long as I live, I found I could not use it as an excuse to avoid the responsibility of living forward simply because it might be painful. As I listened to the stories of others I began to understand that despite everything, I had been fortunate. As clarity returned, I could see how many things i could truly call blessings; hearing someone mention ''...but we were suppose to grow old together...'', I could reflect on the fact that DJ and I did get the chance to grow old together, from 17-18 to 61-62...when I would read the pain in a comment such as ''...it was so sudden, we didn't have time to say goodbye...'', I could draw on the many 'goodbye' conversations DJ and I had, those telling conversations where because of the seriousness of the situation, bullshit was not allowed, where very hard things were discussed, apologies made, tears shed and promises shared which we both knew could probably not be kept, but had to be said anyway...it was just like that; but we did have those opportunities. These types of things forced me to place all the events in a perspective which reflects the entirety of my life to this point, not just that sad morning those seemingly many days ago.

Taking to this area of the site, I attempt to put down in print just what I thought and what I could remember; for me it was a  Godsend. Hearing how many of us suffered through that awful stage, early on, when altho all we seem to want to do is talk about our partners, those around us appear mute, unable in some cases to even speak the name of our loved ones, lest they send us crying, scrambling from the room. This was not my experience as my daughter lives nearby and in those weeks immediately afterwards, she and I would talk about DJ whenever we were in the same room; I think it was an healing exchange and altho the other almost knew to a word what the coming story would be as it had be told before, still, relief and release was found in hearing the retelling. We all are different, but for us, I think this was exactly what we needed.  But as I read of the pain caused by not being able to do this, and listened as others related just how isolated this sometimes made them feel, i came to understand better, just how subtle and pervasive the effects and aftershocks of the grief actually are. The multitude of them can seem to attack, emotionally, all at once and create a mental state where we can feel that hope or any of the other aspirations we might otherwise have and experience, are no longer possible...I know that was true for me. Being without a belief in hope is the one item I can point to as my most difficult issue. Finding this site, being able to allow myself to accept the fact that I knew absolutely nothing about this and had to be willing to hear, made the difference in my personal Journey. Being able to trust when I heard others mentioning a particularly hard period, how they managed it and being reminded that it was a process, with the implied bad boy lurking: time.... and it was necessary at times to take it 'one day at a time', a phrase I'm not altogether unfamiliar with. That whatever I was feeling about it all, basically, it was o.k., and those feelings would pass also...and they did. Being able to express what I needed to on almost a real-time basis, getting feedback, being forced to examine previous ideas about events, people, life....death, evidently was what I needed, as is said, we are all different.

So now, today, I think of the two years since DJ died within the spectrum of my entire life so far; finding safe places for the memories is something we all face; choosing answers which make sense to us has been the driving force behind this. Good. bad, right, wrong, like it or not takes on a certain relative-ness we might not all like to admit, but I think its true; and barring harm to anyone else...why not? Having come to understand that we don't have to like one bit of this, that my contempt for it at times, will not change one thing, we live forward. We find we are powerful, attempting to rebuild our notions of friends, as we find our old ideas like our old friends, may be distant or even disappearing, we meet, share our experiences, come to know one another through print, but making connections virtually out of thin air; such is the medium. But these connections are not the tenuous strands so often created...these bonds are strong and the support they provide can not be underestimated. It was my good fortune to have them and this site as beacons, as the path surely appeared dark to me.The time since DJ died is what it is...time; what has occurred in my life during that time is what makes this important...important to me, anyway. A belief in hope for the future, forged right here on this site  is what is guiding me now, it is making the difference. I am sure that there are others in our circumstance whom have other ways, support groups, perhaps only family and friends, and that is good, as we can agree, the Journey is different for each of us...jes' saying' what I believed has helped me.

Early on, I remember thinking how I just knew this would not work, I would not be able to continue without DJ. I was trying to do things I thought would help, but it was that miserable time when the ability to to be rational is scarce. Knowing everything, I convinced myself that there was no point. It was there that I think I lost sight of the hope. Back when we got the diagnosis I had made up my mind that I would exit with DJ; i think used that a a block against thinking about the time afterwards when she would not be here. Not being able to see any hope for a future afterwards, I had went along those four years with this as my wall. When the time came and the wall had to be dealt with i was unprepared. That in and of it self is no great thing, none of us are prepared, few of us have experience with losing the most important person in the entire world to us. Learning to survive and understand the 'how to', is a process, is a Journey...the manner of how you arrive at start of the path at some point becomes secondary(long term illness, accident, sudden...), not the fact of the loss, but the fact that such a loss is being felt by others also, each as devastating as your own. At some point in my wallowing this fact struck me and I was able to begin to get a reference for my own experience. We all face a mountain of problems, some internal, some external, family, friends, debt, agencies, best friends, the list could go on, but you know what I mean. In that muddle it can become hard to separate things, it got that way for me. Having a reference helped me to understand better the place for all this and the idea that for me, this was necessary. Thoughts of not living forward faded as understanding that we are more than our deaths became clearer to me; allowing myself to believe that the flow of my life had to contain this part of it just as it contained my eighth grade graduation...the time i got in trouble with the cops...or that funny day when my mom wet me with the garden house and laughed as I tried to hide from here...those things should be there, just as DJ's death should be. Fitting it in continues, the fact that I believe it should be there does not make it any easier to manage, but that's where trying to learn to carry the memories forward comes in. Through the tears sometimes, through the days we just know will not ever come to a close, through the nights which sometimes almost refuse to end, through it all, we learn to carry them. We can find it's life for us now and in that life, along with those carried memories there is room for new friends, new adventures, room even for a different us.

The missing continues, the background sadness has assumed a persistent mental hum and spikes occasionally causing waves of grief; the devastating loneliness remains apparent, but in my case is being balanced with the idea that it should be that way...for a while. Now, after realizing how just every aspect of our lives has changed we also find that the changes in ourselves is what is allowing to continue; fact is we could not remain where we were, going through it, for all of us is really the only way; going through it with support can make all the difference in our understanding and ability to live forward, at least I think that. Altho I loved DJ to no end, I cannot not live for her; i'm finding i have to live forward for me. There is no guilt for me in having hope, DJ is not being left behind, but I understand that for some of us it true. How to carry DJ's memory along with me has been what this is all about, trying to understand what I can about the hows and whys of life and how this fits in with it all has been my struggle. Recognizing those things I cannot control and those things I might have some influence on, reminding myself that these things, this action, this living forward is not new, just different now...that this has been going on and will continue, we find we can either be swept along or take an active part in trying to negotiate the path. Hard to see early on when all you want is your partner back, your life back, You back...but the evidence says it's there and to not let the rigors of the route deter you from finding your own answers...I believe they do exist. Being able to have a renewed hope in living forward, I'm grateful each day as another opportunity, life isn't perfect and honestly I don't think we expect it to be, we just don't like the results of the messes, but it's what we have and we do what we can, with what we have. Being able to do it at all can be considered a great achievement i guess, it's exhausting, but, it is.

Turn...Turn; Turn!

“To everything there is a season and a time under heaven.

A time to be born, a time to die…a time to laugh,

a time to weep…a time to dance, a time to mourn.

A time cast away stones,

a time to gather stones together…

A time of war, a time of peace

a time you may embrace,

A time to refrain from embracing…”

Words-adapted from The Bible, book of Ecclesiastes
Music-Pete Seeger, Sung by The Byrds

One of DJ’s requests was that at her service, if each family member would say something; instead I chose for my turn, the above phrasing and had it placed on the second page of her obituary. This was not because I feared being unable to maintain composure or anything like that, not at that early time when I still thought I knew everydamnthing, before I realized that I was in shock; it was merely that I felt she and I had said the necessary things to one another directly and really, everyone who mattered knows how I feel about DJ as I have voiced it publicly more than once at the various family and public functions. Besides, it says for me how I want to think of the life that DJ and I shared, with us having all the seasons which living has to offer and altho very hard to swallow, this, her dying was part of the human climate of the environment of life also. It is a reminder to me too, that the changes which occur are natural and that only our inexperience with all of this is what makes it so difficult for us in coming to terms with the effect it produces. I think this request was really more for the kids and other family members who cared to speak. To me, it is not such an unusual request; we all want to be thought well of by others, especially our family members. Regardless of what we call the makeup of families, blooded, blended, or by choice, we want to believe and know that no matter what, they are in our corner.  A loss, such as we have experienced can, along with all the other trials grief brings to us, also point up the chinks in the armor we call family. Recently, after hearing some horror stories from other regarding their treatment by so-called family members, I began thinking of how this entire ordeal has affected our family and our behavior towards one another. That’s not entirely true…what I really began to think about is how I have been treated.
 For sure we have all heard even if we have not been on the receiving end of, the shoddy treatment from family which can come our way when our partners are no longer here. Long held resentments, finances, and the effects of grief itself, among other things, can elicit behavior from those whom we once thought were the closest to us, which we could not have imagined. Many times, family occasions to which we were once a part of, become fading memories as invitations cease to come in and visits from family members becomes rare, if at all. For me, when it is all said and done, I have been fortunate; despite years of behavior which might well justify my exclusion from and hurtful treatment by DJ’s family, this did not happen. In fact, just the opposite occurred and they rallied around me and offered unwavering support. I’m finding that sometimes it is indeed a rare occurrence. As I have listened to and read of the trials of others in this regard, I have been led to try and honestly assess how some of the things I have heard can be perpetrated against anyone, let alone a grieving family member; stories of being shunned, asked to find other places to live, legal issues over finances and even the the court being brought into play in regards to children…more things added to the already heavy burden of the loss of a beloved partner. Making no attempt to say I can speak to the specifics in any of the things I have heard, I can talk about my own situation.
 For me it starts with recognizing that there are many and varied reasons why I might be treated other than as I have been…all valid.  Admitting to myself that I was less than stellar as a husband for some years requires that I understand that, first, and I do. It requires me to be grateful that I did not face the recriminations from DJ’s family and even our own children for example, as to why the illness should happen to DJ and not me; why her body was subjected to the ravages of the illness when for years I abused my own so carelessly; it is not difficult for me to understand at all. But there were no outbursts of anger or outrage, no telling glances, tho I’m sure, privately the thought has to have crossed their minds as it did my own, that’s a human reaction to be expected I think. But, as I say, this did not happen, instead, from the start I was supported and in some instances literally held up by the care and concern from DJ’s family; from that awful morning as DJ’s sister and I sat in the office of a funeral home listening to service options and costs and when we declined, next being told that DJ had already been embalmed, as we both glared at the person and stood up, then being told “let me check…”, (of course she had not been embalmed, it had only been a couple of hours), from that instance to when we sat in her car outside of the establishment we would go with, and discussed the various items and DJ’s sister finally said, as I sat there, crying, confused, really unable to make a decision, “…listen, this sounds about right, let’s do it…”, and it was done. To DJ’s cousins whose compassion and concern was expressed as they sat with me and assured me that DJ knew I had done all I could for her as did DJ’s mother…and that they knew also; that they understood the love DJ and I had for one another and not just because of the length of time we had been together, but by recalling the various times over the years that they had observed us at the family functions and other events. Today I can understand just how important all this was for me, and I am grateful. This all says more about them than about me, about their genuinely kind hearts and forgiving nature; I am not so sure I could have been as gracious.
 We are all aware of the things grief can expose in families, even before our own turn at dealing with it; we have seen it in other families, the breakdown of personal relationships among those we thought would care the most for one another…it is nothing new, only to those who suffer it now. I have no idea why this occurs and submit to being unable to fully wrap my mind around such things. I’m thinking sometimes, as we are told, we have to let folks go; tho usually applied to so-called friends and acquaintances, I’m convinced that in some cases it needs to apply to family also. When we are treated less than what we desire, from whomever, it is up to us to do the next right thing for ourselves. We cannot rail and complain if we are willing to subject ourselves to shoddy treatment. This requires an honesty of ourselves, to ourselves if we are to come away feeling satisfied with the results of any outcomes surrounding this. At least I think so.
For many of those currently experiencing this, it has to be a devastating situation, with their attempts to assuage feelings being ignored or rejected outright. Many come to find that despite their best efforts no compromise can be made and that in the most truest of senses, evidently there were always being tolerated by their partner’s family and that true caring was never a part of it. It has to hurt, be painful, but it is what many are faced with. The one thing that the journey has reinforced in me is the notion that we don’t have to take shit from anyone…period; we can choose to accept it, but we don’t have to. For most of us, from early in life, we have heard that we should turn the other cheek; for years I would say yes, turn both of them, but turn that third one too…and we all know what comes out of that one…We have options and one is to turn; turn ourselves away from the negative input others want to insist we have in our lives; turn away from the temptation to give energy to those things we have come to know we cannot control and will occur despite our best efforts; turn inward and remind ourselves that we have value in this universe, that we are not the worse of beings; turn around the notion that just because we want to get along we have to subject ourselves to the hostile behavior of others, including family, blood or extended; and finally, sometimes turn away from those, yes even family who would have us live a life of constant irritation by their actions. Not easy, but as we have found, little about this entire process is easy, but almost all of it is necessary.
 It is my hope that those having this ordeal will find solutions which bring some quiet to their minds and hearts; that the curves which relationships can throw can be negotiated with the diminishing radius not taking them inward and down, but that it can allow for them to make the turn, the full turn and fully enjoy the remainder of their turn at living. Being blessed in my own turn, I think is allowing me to more fully appreciate the struggles others may be having, not any better or greater, but surely to better understand today to a deeper extent than I might have thought was possible. At one point in my life I was fond of saying, ‘…just keep living’, everybody gets a turn…’, I never realized just how true that really was and just how meaningful it would become in my life, in my own turn.

Suffer, the Little...

“My heart is heavy, and mine age is weak; Grief would have tears, and sorrow bids me speak.”

Shakespeare,  ALLS WELL THAT ENDS WELL.

“Father, would you come over please…?”, it’s a text message I have received more that a few times over the past, almost two years from my daughter who lives across the street from me, her living that close being some of DJ’s last family handiwork. This particular evening I was not unduly alarmed as I headed out the door; on other occasions I have arrived to find her sitting on her couch, crying quietly…or not so quietly, arms wrapped around herself, perhaps sipping Green Tea. DJ’s death has provided her with some especially difficult moments and we have shared a few of them on that very couch. Early on, those times gave each of us the necessary company we needed, that being another person who was experiencing the deep sense of loss and the feeling of total devastation that the death of a long time partner or mother can bring to us. This is what I was expecting to find when I turned the key to her lock and opened the door… now, she was sitting on her couch, but her arms were not around herself, they were around her daughter, my grand daughter, Ms.McKoKo.  They both appeared to be crying, but Ms.McKoKo was actually sobbing, just short of wailing. This too has not been unusual over the past months. Ms.McKoKo has been witness to everything which has happened regarding DJ’s death; altho only four when DJ really took a turn for the worse, she has struggled along with the rest of the family as DJ had rounds of doctor’s appointments, medicines, Chemo, bad days, good days…all of it. The two had become particularly close as DJ no longer worked and they were company for each other during the days. I will not try to describe the relationship they enjoyed, to say it was beyond what a grandmother feels for her children’s children might come off as trite; I will merely say this, from what I saw, what they shared was quite special. As I sat down next to my daughter she began to explain that they had been listening to some inspirational (read Gospel) music when Ms.McKoKo suddenly broke into tears, not only tears, not only the crying we have seen before, but a heavy sobbing, wailing, to the point of screaming “ I want my grandma back…!!”, over and over as her arms flailed the air and her small fist attempted to punch that elusive and unseen presence which true grief presents in it’s most unadulterated form. My daughter said she had not seen this type of outburst before and that was the reason for the text.

Now in her mother’s arms, her crying was the low, deep sobbing and heaving which we, the truly hurt, are well aware of. After saying a few things to her, assuring her that she, (not necessarily ‘it’), would be O.K., we all sat quietly for a while. My thoughts turned to all which has happened, as I said, it's a fact that Ms.McKoKo has endured a lot over the last, almost two years. As DJ’s condition deteriorated and she took to our bed more often, they often spent afternoons laying together watching TV, or her, pretending to read to DJ, or playing school or DJ having to endure the endless questions only four or five year olds can have.  Ms.McKoKo turned five the March previous to the November in which DJ died, and in those final months they saw one another every day. In the final days, she was right there, next to DJ, laying her head on DJ’s chest, patting, rubbing, talking…until it was time for her to go home. I often wonder how her young mind processes what has occurred…I was about a full year older than her when my own mother died and I really can’t remember how I felt. When told that she would not be coming back, I do remember thinking about who would make me oatmeal in the mornings…and if I would still get to watch Liberace play the piano, his program came on each day right before we left out to get my older brother from school, and I do remember my mother and I watching the show. Those are things I remember, but not emotions, not how I felt. Maybe it’s a blessing for our young minds, I don’t know. On the morning DJ died Ms.McKoKo was there as the girls prepared DJ to leave the house for her final time; she was there as we sat and signed the necessary documents allowing her to be taken; she was there as we gathered around the table filled with pictures and put together the information for the obituary, her, pointing to this picture or that one in moments of recognition; she was there (and I was purposely watching her) as we sat in the church looking at the two oversize pictures of DJ which stood as smiling bookends to where DJ lay; she was there as my daughter and I sat in the car at the cemetery, clutching to each another, tears flowing freely; me, after having help carry DJ as far as I physically could in this life, but not remaining at the graveside for the lowering; Ms.McKoKo’s mother and I decided that the lowering was not a last image we thought she should have of DJ either, and I knew I didn’t want it to be mine…neither did my daughter; I already had my last image of DJ and it is fine with me. The night before DJ died the two had been together, we’re hoping that’s the image Ms.McKoKo carries forward. There’s simply no way to know what thoughts went through Ms.McKoKo’s mind as all this unfolded. Sure, later and often, there were tears, but I think this was more in response to seeing her mother and I and other family members cry as we spoke of DJ…a sort of sympathetic response I imagine. At that time she had more experience at being a four year even tho she was actually five, but that means nothing…we know it doesn’t. We can look to ourselves with the experience of many more years than she and know how helpless we still are at times in dealing with this. Each of knows just how close to brink we can be  driven, with the advantage of years appearing to turn on us, allowing our minds to carry us to depths where light is absent and the idea of hope is nonexistent.

 As I sat there thinking of all of this it struck me that this was all probably very natural; Ms.McKoKo is almost two years older, her thinking more developed and like us when we reach that moment of hard realization of what has actually occurred the downpour of emotions can be overwhelming. It is my belief that Ms.McKoKo had that first bite of the realization involved in this and the bitter taste of it and the dawning of thoughts that DJ will never be back is taking the same toll on her as it has and continues to take on each member of our family in our own real moments. For sure it is has to be a difficult prospect for her to deal with, we know just how hard it is for us, even being older. The outburst itself was good I think, I am glad she was able to have it and talk about being angry and asking the entire range of why’s, even tho I’m sure our answers were just as inadequate for her to accept as they are for us. Being older, we can rationalize, convince, and even lie to ourselves to make things bearable; Ms.McKoKo is getting an introduction to real life in a very tough lesson. Eventually, as we talked, she asked the questions one might expect from one so young, we tried to give her the best answers we could and made sure she understood that it was alright to be upset, angry…for a while. Taking a tool from among the many I have amassed in my kit from here and other places, I suggested we have a Dish Session; many of us know this one, the one where we gather old or unwanted crockery and have a smashing good time venting our angers and frustrations. As we talked about it she perked up, listening as her mother and I talked about seeing what we could glean from the pantry at my house and maybe even going to the thrift store if we didn’t think we had enough; remember we’re talking about three angry folks here. Either of our backyards will do and of course she truly liked the idea of wearing safety goggles a nod to the Minions* no doubt.  We both agreed that this might help to make sure she understands that her feelings are not abnormal, but reasonable and valid; the Dish Session can serve as a vehicle for her to reach a better understanding of what has happened and perhaps a greater knowledge of herself and at the same time giving her something palpable to rage on. When I spoke of all of this to a friend, that friend suggested that maybe we could take the broken pieces and make something from them, to me, it’s a great idea; it can stand to create a memory for Ms.McKoKo with all the elements of a moment in time which may have not only alarmed her mother, but herself also, but which can be turned into an important life lesson. Creating something positive from all this, I believe can only help to insure that her memories of this time will not be steeped in total sadness.

 At our house we have two metal pot stands on our counter, DJ used them for hot pots, they’re each about 10 inches square and have small feet about an inch high; perhaps creating a surface for them from the broken pieces and having her keep them as her own will enable her to have a memory of the full range of the moment; the anger, the crying, the sitting and talking, making a decision to try do something about a situation with no solution. Maybe having something tangible to represent that which appears to be so nebulous in so many ways will in the future, allow her to see this time with what may be the true implications, that being, growth, learning, and how we can try to turn some of the effects not only grief, but the turns and twists that life can throw at us into usable implements and processes for a better life for ourselves. Ms.McKoKo may be able to look at those stands, the stands she helped create and think of the entire history of the why for their existence; she may be able to have her memories of DJ more evenly shaped by knowing that the experience of feeling the loss is something which is natural and that her reactions to that loss are not things to be shied away from or to have them create self doubt as a result of having had them. The Bard says “…mine age is weak…”, I’m not so sure truer words were ever spoken. I was reminded of this as I looked at Ms.McKoKo…with all the seasons her mother and I have seen, in reality we are no more prepared with strength for this by age, as she is; our age, any age is weak when faced with grief, at least I think so. We too have to come to terms with the blinding anger that can accompany our loss. We too search for the whys, we also must stand face to face with the reality of that which we simply cannot believe. Our questions are not so different from the ones that five year old has, only our ability to ask them at all; her sense of devastation as the reality sets in is no lesser for her than for us; our reactions to those uncontrollable things in our lives are not relegated to some higher plane of understanding and acceptance simply because of the vision of our years; we are right there with her, sobbing, wailing, arms flailing at that which we cannot see, but which we know must exist as the pain cannot be an illusion. Our fists punch at that unseen crippling presence, the need for us to make contact with…something, it’s powerful, the urge has the ability to, at times, have us doubt our own sanity. Well, we’re trying to make sure Ms.McKoKo doesn’t have to doubt her mental stability, not about this; we want her to know that this is real, what she feels is real and that there is a real way through it.

 As the atmosphere calmed and the wave moved on, Ms.McKoKo appeared to have landed at the shore, not too much worse for the wear, her breathing was eased and natural; she slept. I don’t know if it was the sleep of a five year old, but it appeared to be the sleep we all know so well after having experienced that moment, with all the implications that arrive with it. I hugged her mother and headed back to our house thinking of just how complete, deep and far reaching are the effects of DJ’s death. In this, sorrow not only bid me to speak, it almost demanded it, yes, our hearts are heavy, and we do pay the dues of tears to grief; it is not at all easy, but it is all real, I think that’s as it should be. Altho all of us children suffer, we can still learn regardless of our years. We are all children as we stand before grief, me, two months shy of two years, suffering the growing pains of trying to understand a different life; having the questions any two year old might have, experiencing the fears that have not yet been assuaged by the passing of time, with the passing of that time and the experience gained being no guarantee that any meaningful understanding can ever be achieved, but living forward nonetheless; like Ms.McKoKo, attempting to make sense of the apparently, senseless...struggling daily with that unseen force which now pervades every aspect of our lives, it, shifting, hiding, seeming to have vanished at times, only to return with a vengeance that defies explanation, and we are left searching, flailing, our emotional mouths open, with the silent screams being heard only by our deep inner ear. These days I am often reminded that simply knowing is not enough; so we remain, children, with the hope that in the end all will be well.

*Minions being the characters in a popular cartoon movie, with some wearing what appears to be goggles for their one eye.

sO, sUe Me...

“…Change your words into truth

And then change that truth into love

And maybe our children’s grandchildren

And their grandchildren will know…”

(From the song “As” by Stevie Wonder)

 

Simple words, hard to implement…turning our words into truth; we say we believe in this, trust in that, we offer that we really are there for those we say we care about, we try to live by these things, but sometimes we falter and the results can send us spinning down a pit of hurt and despair. We should remember tho, we are human, and we will err, for those who can’t or won’t understand this, let ‘em sue me.

 Recently a friend and I were talking, Rhea, in expressing her concern about an issue she was dealing with, one not so uncommon among the widowed, friends and friendships, or more accurately the loss thereof, reflected the pain it is causing her. We all know it’s not so unusual for so-called friends to fade away after our loss, most times without explanation and we are often left bewildered and hurt. We learn to deal with the actuality and the effects, we try to understand the reasons involved, make excuses for a while, but none of this really dulls the pain it causes; we simply learn to get past it and live on without them, not always an easy thing to do. The particular problem for Rhea is that in this, there are valid reasons for the other party to feel hurt; her actions put the relationship in jeopardy. The exact nature of the indiscretion may not be as important as Rhea’s reaction to the later actions of her hurt friend. After having attempted to make amends for the error in judgment to the other party, whom Rhea has known for over fifty years, Rhea finds that the other party is making a concerted effort to not only shun her, but also influence others to un friend her also. Actually, it has gotten to the point where Rhea dreads attending the various functions which were such a part of her life previous to the loss of her husband. Because of the longevity of the association, my friend is finding it difficult to believe that her attempts to show remorse are being unnoticed and discarded, apparently out of hand.  

 Now I am sure this is not a unique situation, this unintentional rubbing of friends the wrong way, and the failed attempts at proper fence mending, but coupled with grief I can only imagine the hell which is being endured by Rhea. The situation contains many of the elemental stones we find along the journey; perceived betrayal, bruised egos and all the other things which are part of our human-ness. Those of us who travel this path are not unaware of them or the havoc they can wreak on our mental health. Later, as I thought about all of this and how it related to the journey, I sat down to write Rhea a letter, the materials to be used for this indicate how serious I am taking all of it; Yellow legal pad paper (both sides to be used, about six sheets), and my 1.6mm Bold point pen (Black ink) which is normally reserved for contracts I might sign for work or other official documents. The pen is a quirk of mine as I disdain the fine pointed instruments usually handed to us by the various clerks whom we come in contact with…and I don’t share pens. As I thought about what to say to her, the focus fell on just how important it really is that we take care of ourselves…first, in all areas of our lives. It’s not always an easy thing to do as many times the toes of others are involved and we are forced to weigh external factors against what is best for us, but, we have to do it. My intentions are to let her know I understand the importance she attaches to the relationship with her friend which has existed over those many years, but I also intend to point out that in all those years she, Rhea, may have been being a better friend and that things appear to be mostly one sided. Hoping to point out that the length of the association cannot determine the depth of it, I want to remind her that like many who suffer the loss of a partner, she may find that many of those things about which she was so certain, were and are, truly not all they appeared to be. Not an easy pill to swallow; weknow this, but like many hard things the journey is revealing to us we come to understand better, how placing them in perspective as it relates to what’s best for us is something we must do. For Rhea I know this may be a difficult thing as her generally easy and outgoing nature probably tends to have her getting down on herself out of proportion to what the situation may call for. In trying to remind her that in this, she must come first, I hope to impart a portion of the selfishness of which I have such abundance.  Wanting her to know that I can at best, only half understand how important this is to her, I also want her to know that I think her mental well being is worth more than a relationship which to me appears to be toxic and un-redeemable. Now, for sure, I don’t have all the answers, and it is a fact that I am no expert in the field of human relations, but I think I understand better today, how to know what’s best for my mental framework and I believe Rhea knows what’s best for herself also.

 To illustrate how this can tie in with our efforts on the journey to a different life, it strikes me that we do not want to let incidents and situations like this remain in the narrow context of any given occurrence, be it friend to friend relationship, thoughts on how we felt about our partners or our family, whatever; I’m thinking this can be expanded to encompass the notion that absolutely nothing is exempt from the rigors of grief; that grief exposes the chinks in both our social and mental armor; that in facing these types of things honestly, we give ourselves the best chance to make decisions which can yield positive results. This is not easy, nothing about grieving is easy, but they are the types of things we do in order that we can maintain any semblance of hope in finding any kind of peace about anything from here on out. I have been fortunate, I have some tools which can help me in this; while in treatment, it was suggested to me that whatever Higher Power in which I believed, had not put me here to be abused…by anyone. That my transgressions, especially if admitted to and attempts made to assuage the injured parties, could not be something which should be used against me for the duration; going forward and not repeating them would have to be enough for anyone. It was something I had agonized over throughout the course of treatment and had given me sleepless nights wondering about how it would be when I returned home; that for the rest of my life I would be subject to recurring recounts from DJ about my escapades when I was practicing.*  It was explained to me that this could have me generating resentments, something which can be fatal to one with a personality like mine, and that I had to be  willing to do anything to have and maintain that sober mind I said was so important to me, including not being part of my family if I honestly found that the situation to be a threat…like I said, nothing about taking control and responsibility for our own well being is easy. Fortunately it did not come to me having to leave, after saying to DJ, pretty much of what I have just written, we were able to come to a mutual understanding ; of course there would be times later on, when  in the heat of our discussions when I would be reminded of how unappealing I had acted at times, but they were few and far in-between; this, and the fact that they were the truth helped me to accept it from DJ, altho I will admit, it always stung...and it should have, it’s not like I didn’t do those things and I think the fact that hearing them stung me, demonstrates my feelings of remorse about it all; if I didn’t care, it wouldn’t sting.

 And so it is with Rhea, she is feeling stung, if she didn’t care, it wouldn’t hurt so much, but she does; an error was made, amends attempted, yet an atmosphere of rejection bordering on ostracism appears to be her lot. Well, I’m reminding Rhea that she doesn’t have to be the target of any intentional, vindictive behavior from anyone. She did not commit an axe murder or abuse small children, it was a perfectly human error, and we are all prone to them. The fact that this has gone on for some time almost proves the other party is disingenuous about her hurt feelings and I suspect there are other factors I cannot know which are involved.  Struggling through the grief is chore enough, in doing that, we might want to keep in mind that we have to look to ourselves first…that the falling away of friends will happen, even long time so-called friends. It is a challenge to us to fashion and maintain an honest approach to things about which we have no control over but which we also don’t have to allow to keep us pain. We are finding that the hard realizations related to grief are not always directly about the facts regarding the absence of our partners. Other, more subtle and some not so subtle truths are revealed as we take each step on the path; if we are going to cheer the words of the quotes and sayings we love to see and nod in agreement with, if we are going to say we believe, if we claim we truly want to move forward, that we don’t necessarily like the challenges, but understand they must be met, then I think it is up to us to make the word our truths and just maybe we can turn that truth into love, not only for others, but more importantly, love for ourselves also and as charity begins at home, for ourselves, First.

 After penning for over two hours, touching on everything from hell to high water, I reread the pages then shredded them; as I had read the words, I realized that maybe I was not writing all of it so much for Rhea, but more as a reminder to myself about how I need to stay constant with the words of the phrase from the song, about how I may need to focus more on those subtle and not so subtle things that are becoming a part in shaping my own different life. Now, I did send Rhea a message, trying to assure her I understood how she might feel, chiding her (and not so gently I might add), about taking care of herself, First. It is my hope that she will know that I want my words to her to be taken as my truths, that they are things we as friends can share with one another without fear of being meant as attacks or condescension, but as the words of one person to another, who proclaims to care, human to human, with all that implies. For me it’s a fairly simple situation, no one can be allowed to make us feel any less than we know we are, it is up to us to what we allow to determine how we feel, not only through grief, but in all of life in general. The journey is reminding me that for all the railing against those things I cannot control, for all the agonizing over events which can occur and attempt to keep me in that world of hurt and pain, in the final analysis it is up to me to take care of myself, First. And that may well mean letting go of those things and people which are intent on keeping me there in that pain. The bottom line for me is that I must recognize that some of the hurts offered by the journey can only impact me if I allow them to, that in this, for now, I have to come first and that if some others don’t like it, Let ‘em sue me.

*practicing - in this context, used to describe the act of drinking

sWEEf Dream

 

“Say nighty-night and kiss me
Just hold me tight and tell me you'll miss me
While I'm alone and blue as can be
Dream a little dream of me”

(Dream A Little Dream of Me - Writer(s):Kahn, Gus/Andre, Fabian/Schwandt, Wilbur

Altho serveral artists do the song justice, I like the versions by Ella Fitzgerald & Cass Elliot)

“What’s the difference between a bad dream and a nightmare?”, it’s a question someone recently asked during a conversation a few of us were having. Some to those present voiced their thoughts on the subject; I kept quiet (for a change) as I had no definite thoughts about it. Because of the way my binary brain sometimes processes things, basically, a bad anything is all that’s needed for me to get an idea of what’s going on, the degree of severity is so subjective that I think it makes this one of those things that we all understand in our own way. But the question did get me to thinking about dreams…and dreaming. It took me back to an earlier time when the loss of DJ was only days and weeks old and I was in the storm of shock and confusion; the words fresh and raw took on expanded  meanings which I could have lived another lifetime without ever knowing. It was a hellish time when the bewilderment of loss ruled the days and the nights found me wide awake as sleep refused to visit. It was during this time that I took up residence on the lounger upon which DJ had taken her final breaths. Altho there was no real sleep to be had for me, there were what I can call dreams; some of the toughest dreams I have every experienced…wide awake dreams of “What if…”, “If only…” and of course, “Why”.

 As Time passed and the immediate shock faded, my thoughts turned to other thoughts, dreams from a much earlier time, a time before when I had different dreams; dreams of wishing DJ was my girlfriend, dreams of having her as my wife and of our creating a family together…all dreams which came true for us. They are the type of dreams I’m sure we all have had at one time or another…and probably still do today. It’s a fact for me, many of these dreams appear to be carrying me now. Later in that early time, I can remember others, further away from their loss than I was from mine, talking about dreams and dreaming or the lack of them or the joy that some brought, or the pain. At the time I was hoping for any type of dream about DJ; I remember being in a minor panic as I feared I would never have one. Dreams did not happen for a very long time, even today, generally, I do not dream about DJ or anything else for that matter. It has been that way for the past twenty or so months. I have come to reason that since she is in my every other thought during every waking hour of every day, my mind does not find the need to entertain sub conscious thoughts about her when I sleep. It’s another example of my attempts to deal with the issues presented by grief; me, making answers for myself I can live with. My hope is that by doing this I can put to rest some of the things which can plague us as we make the journey. The fact that our loved ones will constantly be in our thoughts no matter what we’re doing should come as no surprise, it appears to me to be only natural. Our reaction to that, I think, determines how we come to deal with all the circumstances and emotions involved in developing the different life. There have been times when I have heard others speak of their dreams about their spouses, how calming it may have been, or unsettling, or outright horrible. Now, I know very little about the process involved in dreaming, why we do it or any special meanings which may be associated with them; I do know that at times I have dreamed and some of those dreams have left me worried, shaken, or have even wakened me in a panic.

 Years ago as we began to restart our life together after having it interrupted by the Draft, after returning home, I had found the need for counseling; this was related to the adventure I had been party to in South East Asia; altho I slept, I had a recurring dream about being on the flight that had taken us to Tan Son Nhat airport, Long Binh, RVN. Attending sessions at the local VA gave me access to a ‘sleep’ counselor who listened to me tell of the recurring dream of being on that flight and the fear and panic it gave me, and always waking up sweaty and fearful. After a few meetings she suggested that, counter to what I might have been told about ‘trying to forget it’, I should actually think about that dream during my waking hours; not only that, but think about an end to that dream, an end I wanted. The idea was to plan the outcome of the dream long before I slept and possibly had the dream again. Being desperate and tired of fearing sleep, I began practicing just that. My solution was to think about that dream, and picture myself stepping off the plane here, at O’Hare airport. Now, the results were not immediate, but over time I developed the ability to have that dream but end up at home…eventually I stopped having the dream altogether. Applying this method to other dreams I have had more than marginal success; of course we are all different and ymmv (your mileage may vary). But the point of the exercise for me, and the lesson I came away with was that I didn’t have to have my dreams terrify me, it was something I could practice some control over. Now, I have found that there are some dreams no amount of practice can help us with, the thought of DJ dying being the most prominent. Altho we had four years from diagnosis to her last moments on this earth, nothing I could have thought or conceived of put me in any state of readiness, and believe me, I thought a great deal. But there have been other dreams, one in particular which also kept me in a state of unrest for months; after returning home I had taken to the practice of carrying a weapon, having just left an environment where it was the norm, in my mind it was only natural that I continue to do so. Despite the hostile atmosphere war can present, at some point I developed a comfortability with the situation which I am sure was aided by the fact that I was armed 24/7; it gave me the security of preparedness that I enjoyed. Carrying this over the home front may not have been the wisest decision I ever made as I was deep in my cups, but I did it…however, it came back to bite me in the ass, thankfully, this was only in a dream and only my ass was involved. One morning after having raised many a cup the previous night, I had been awakened by a dream, the dream had been that I had woke up not remembering what I had been involved with the previous night and finding the magazine for the pistol short one round. In the dream, I could not recall firing the pistol and I was in a panic. As part of the dream, that entire day was spent watching the news, seeing if I could pick up any talk of random shootings which might have occurred; I could vaguely remember the area I had been to and I was trying to see if anything had been reported.  My mind was racing, I would scramble to the window if I heard any commotion outside, peeking through the blinds, I would scan the street for patrol cars or well dressed men in front of our building; there was anxiety each time the phone rang, and the doorbell rang. The dream presented me with the scenario that I may have shot someone, anyone; a kid or some other innocent and not know it. The thought of that dream was enough for me to cease carrying a weapon altho refraining from the cups never entered my mind. This all can be declared a bad dream, but the goodness of it is that it forced me to corrective behavior before some tragedy occurred. I did not want to practice an ending to that dream, I wanted to stop it, now, fortunately I did, it required changes on my part, but along with the flight thing, the entire episode helped me to realize the power of dreams, no matter where they come from or what we might think of them.

 So it can be with us, our thoughts and dreams about our loved ones can bring on many emotions and leave us pondering the what’s and why’s. They can sometimes take us to calm places, scenes of peace and serenity or they can try to pull us into the sinkhole of regret and despair, and leave us feeling frightened and without hope. For me, I’m trying to take the lesson the counselor suggested and actually think about the outcome of any dream I might have about DJ; for me it’s quite easy as I already know the actual result. It’s not necessarily a pleasant result but it is a factual one, one I don’t have to like, just deal with. All this is being done in order that I might gain better clarity and understanding about just how to place the many things in safe places…at times it’s exhausting to say the least, but I’m finding it soooooo necessary in order for the different life to contain any semblance of okay-ness. Altho I try not to, perhaps I think too much, some of my friends have told me that; maybe it is adding to the already monumental task of shaping the different life, I don’t know, but it is all I know to do in my attempts to have hope and peace for whatever time is left for me. As for any beliefs in dreams…well, I know they exist, and like a lot of things, I’ve come to believe that they can only have the power and energy we put into them. Today I’m trying to put positive energy into my thoughts and dreams and hopes and even disappointments with the notion that by trying to do the next right thing, the next right thing will occur for me. In my life I have lived great parts of a dream mainly because of DJ and for that I am truly grateful.

 A politician of the late 60’s is noted for saying, “ Some people see things as they are and ask ‘Why’, others dream things that never were and ask ‘Why not?’”, that he was thought to be popular yet later assassinated has no bearing on the depth of the quote.  This has stayed with me through the years and today I can relate it to my life in that now, I don’t have to ask Why, and many times DJ and I were able to say Why not. I’m reminded of some lines from a song DJ particularly liked:

“Cheer up sleepy Jean

Oh, what can it mean,

To a daydream believer

And a homecoming queen”

Well, in my life I’ve had and still have the opportunity to be a daydream believer and for sure, DJ is my homecoming queen. Having time and being fortunate enough that we were able to be honest, I am assured that the meaning we gave to one another is meaningful, shared and genuine. Today, In making a sincere effort to see things as they are,  I am still able to dream things that never were and yet, find peace because I know of the dream that still, is.  I’m thinking that at some point the meanings of the goodness or the badness of whatever dreams we might have will become a moot point; in the end I think we are left with ourselves and what we decide to make of what we think...and what we believe...and what we dream.

In for a penny...

Last week I found myself in one of DJ’s favorite haunts, this particular place I had not been to in almost two years…the Dollar store closest to our home found me scouring the aisles for some items which I discovered needed replacing. I say discovered because before now, I had no need to keep a running inventory in my mental notes about such things as rubbing alcohol, Q-Tips, toothpicks, air freshener refills, garbage disposal cleaner, bluing agent for the toilet bowl, bath soap, Hydrogen Peroxide, rinse aid for the dishwasher, Tylenol, baby powder, hand lotion, blue Solo cups, &ct. …they’re some of the everyday things which are a part of all our lives, a part I have mostly taken for granted up till now. In my mind I know I have always used these things, and have always appreciated the fact that they were there when I needed them. Only recently tho did I realize that they were always there because DJ made sure of that. It’s a testament to her foresight that in almost two years I have not had occasion to need any of them till now. It’s another reminder of how some of the things we consider small and take for granted, things our partner’s did for us and which now, we have to do for ourselves, which can signal the start of that memory train. Now, this is not say that I haven’t been to a Dollar store since she died, just that I had not been to this particular store. As I say, it’s the closest one by our house, and whenever we would be in other stores and I might remind her that she intended to get this or that item, she would say  “....oh, that…how much is it…not here, we can get it cheaper near the house…” and we would end up where I was now. As I gathered the things I came for, naturally I was thinking of DJ…thankfully it was not an unpleasant experience, a spark to some emotional firestorm; actually I had a calming, almost familiar feeling walking those aisles and it felt good…not even bittersweet. Really, it’s the way I have wanted memories to come to me… from those first early times when most of them brought crushing pain. Clearly hearing DJ say “…not that one…the green type…” as I prepared to pick up the first bottle labeled Isopropyl that I saw, I lowered my hand to the next shelf and took the green colored rubbing alcohol.

This is not about my needing the commonplace items of life, it’s really about the memories my junket to that Dollar store brought on and the fact that most of those memories and others are coming today without so much damn pain. Many months ago I had read somewhere that one destination of the journey might be to arrive at a point where we can ‘have the memories without the pain’ ; I took that observation to heart and geared all my efforts towards that end. Arriving there may have occurred without any effort on my part, I don’t know, but I do know that the attempt gave me a focal point for the emotional energy which at times was overwhelming. As I picked up other items, I thought about how altho not a bad feeling, it was unsettling to a point because the sadness which usually came with such memories was not fully there and the thought that the memories of DJ might become so peaceful and easy that I might become desensitized to them flashed across my mind. All at once it dawned on me that this is what should happen for me, it had been one of my goals. Being fearful of the memories is not new for me, but that fear has always been because of the pain which might be generated; having the memories and not fear or pain and learning how to accept them as a natural part of the flow for the different life is what is so new.

Having gathered the last of the needed things, I headed to the check out counter, there, I watched as a lady in front of me waited for the clerk to give her a total…the lady, tho watching as the clerk rang up each item, seemed fully unprepared to pay when the total was announced, finally she lifted her purse to the counter and began rummaging for a medium to pay with. It is a scene reminiscent of DJ, as I have watched many times as she delivered a cart full of goods to a counter and when it came time to pay for them, she would act almost surprised and would then finger through her purse…or wallet…or her pockets…or my pockets searching for a means to pay with; it was a running joke with us for a while, how, even tho she knew at some point she would need to pay, she never seemed to be prepared to do so. It was something I would often point out to her as I watched other folks, mainly women; go through the same ritual that she herself had almost perfected. Lest you think I’m poking unfair fun at just women, do some personal observing on your own…The memory of that too, came with ease and familiarity…with a warmth I’m learning to enjoy. In the car, on the way home, as I watched the traffic and the people and the buildings and the signs, I thought about the hundreds of times DJ and I had taken the same route, even on the day we had received the worse news of our lives; and how on that day I had noted the traffic and the people and the buildings and the signs. I had made a particular mental note of the broken corner of the large Neon sign at the drugstore and have looked at it many times as I had occasion to come to that drug store for DJ’s medication; it would always take me back to that day and the sinking feeling would wash over me.  As I drove past the store, I noticed the sign still sported the same damaged corner even now, some almost six years later. Thinking of my thoughts on that day did not send my mind or the car careening out of control, it was more of a reflective nature, perhaps even with a touch of sadness, but without much pain. Trying to put all these new ideas about the memories my mind is generating, into some coherent order is proving to be quite an exercise, I imagine working on any of the things the different life presents should be exhausting; identifying and placing into order and in safe places the many nuances involved appears what I am going through now.

And this now is an experience unto itself, with me greeting each day, tho thankful as I am, with an attitude bordering on gross indifference. Others enduring the same journey have mentioned it, this time, referring to it scientifically  as the Blahs; the overall feeling of not being interested in much and not knowing exactly what I might want to be interested in does not stop the memories so I am glad that they are coming in a much softer way now. Unlike earlier times in the journey when changes in the way I had been perceiving things would occur, this changing of the character of the way the memories present themselves is not adding to the confusion; today I am able to recognize some of the changes and understand that it is all part of the process. Now mind you, this current spate of the blahs is not due to any lack of things I need to be doing, there is an abundance of those; a basement to finish cleaning out, backyard area to be tidied, a pantry to be gone through…again, but the motivation to do those things has been lacking…so far. I’m not overly concerned about it, despite my earlier belief that some of the periods we go through would last forever, I’m finding that most are only temporary and eventually fade into something else. Those are the types of things which are hard to believe early on when the memories can bring such devastating hurt and we can only see more pain in the future. But just as I found that I could not live in that deep, all encompassing pain forever, that really, I could only be that sad for only so long and that moving away from it was not a betrayal of DJ, but a affirmation of my own human spirit, that simply because I did not want to cry forever, not remain prisoner to the idea that just because I was starting to feel better, my love for DJ was any less or the missing had lost that special bite it can give, that the notion that the sadness and loneliness would only be cured by being with someone else, I am now finding that for me, having the memories without the pain is not only possible but is welcomed. Coming to terms with these things within ourselves seems to be another one of the hard things we must do. A popular lecturer has stated “ If we are not comfortable being alone with ourselves, how can we expect anyone else to enjoy being alone with us…”, seems to make sense to me…long before I attempt to share me or my memories with anyone in any serious way, for sure I better be able to find safe places for them in my own mind. Of course this is all trial and error, we try this, test the waters on that, see if A works or will a B or C plan be needed; like many things, grieving is not an exact science and trying to negotiate the ups and downs, the turns and twists of the roller coaster is a precarious one at best, but I think it has to be done if we are to experience any joy in the different life.

Arriving in front of our house, I turned the car off and sat there for a while looking at the small laminated image I  have of DJ sitting in the dashboard. It’s from her 50th birthday party and she looks really happy; I smiled as my mind filtered the many emotions which rushed through it and I was able to think of what she and I shared and had a genuinely good experience of having those memories; they are what I have of her now and they must carry me...and I, them. Sometimes I think we really need to stop and think about how we can better recognize the appearance of those things we may ask for; it’s not always easy but nothing really worthwhile is easy…or so I’m told. Having done this many times over the past months, this sitting in front of the house in the car and having had at some of those times, the emotions range from crippling pain to benign indifference, those times early on, when, with the windows rolled up, I would scream at the top of my lungs over and over in an attempt to expel the pain and cry uncontrollably as wave after wave of realization would crash against my senses attempting to batter me into submission to the darkest thoughts my mind could entertain; when the challenge of actually getting out of the car and walking up those six steps to our door was at it’s greatest…I find now, I am accepting the feeling of calmness which I am experiencing as a welcomed improvement and really, something I have longed for. Because we are so immersed in it and its effects are so pervasive, grief can blind us to some of the more positive changes which take place during our journey, and at times those changes can be almost imperceptible to us.

Once inside, as I put the things in their proper places, in the linen closet, on the shelves over the toilet and on the night stand, I stopped to look around; the house still has the roaring silence, altho I've become accustomed to it by now; the pall of emptiness which hangs over the entire place doesn't appear to be frayed one bit, and the sense of loneliness it can generate is still very much present, but today all of that is o.k....it has to be, for a while anyway. Not having to like any of it is the one step of the journey I can take upon myself to make; but simply because I don't like it doesn't mean I can ignore the more positive feelings I am having each day. So it is, living each day of the different life, attempting to be grateful for the chance to do the next right thing and thankful for having what we do have; trying to manage the shifting emotions and honestly believe that what is best for us will actually happen; it's what the days are made of now, it's part of the dues being paid for enjoying such a rich and pleasing life with DJ...I'm not complaining, jes' sayin'; accepting all this as the way of the world, my world, is the task at hand but it's something I would not trade for any amount of dollars.

Tru' Dat

 

 (Note: This was originally posted to another site in

response to a question posed by one of the members there.)

              “If your actions do not prove the truth of your words,

 then your words are nothing more than lies’’

-Unknown

This is something I came across some time ago on my way to looking up other things, it struck something with me so much so that I saved it and set it as the wallpaper for my cell phone background. Doing that was a gesture to my efforts in reminding me to actually try and practice some of the notions and ideas I’m so fond of posting in various places in Cyber space. It’s actually a digital string tied around one of my mental fingers to help me remember that I should stay aware of how easy it is for me to mislead myself into thinking that just because I relish posting such things, it can create a mental atmosphere for me where I believe I’m practicing those things, when in fact it’s all in my mind. It is not an uncommon situation; we read, we think, we tell ourselves something over and over and in our minds and we can come to believe we’re really living it…understanding myself a bit better these days, I know I have to stay mindful of my weakness In this area. For me, these types of posts can ramble around in my mind and lead me to a state of only thinking about them, but not actually putting them into practice. This is not to say I am attempting to claim some high moral ground on the truth, far from it, but it is my small attempt to be what I think is a better person if to no one else other than myself. There has been some minor victories: my use of the word hate has all but disappeared from my conversations altho i dislike a lot of things, I've come to believe what some of those very posts that I love to spread around, say is true, in that applying that emotion to some item, object, or person, does me more harm than good.  Sorry has become an orphan; I cannot in good conscience  use it in response to things people say, even down to hearing they have lost a loved one...I may be genuinely sad to hear those things, but the truth is I am only truly sorry for my own sorry ass in having been deprived of DJ's presence. The ever popular 'B' word had been dropped like a bad habit, In my mind it has special connotations and thus is reserved for the special occasions that merit it's use. Now, these may not be major points, but they are my attempts to change my thinking about certain things, one small step at a time. So it is with this post, previously I have used these pages to detail some of my  own thoughts and reactions to DJ’s death as well as some of those of a few close family members;  it has been a healing endeavor I think and I am grateful for the opportunity to do so. In doing this I have tried to be as truthful as propriety allows, tho I have been known to invoke editorial license at times...just a bit, but on critical grieving matters, the truth is mandatory.

As the different life has taken shape and revealed parts of it to me, a shape I should add, that I cannot yet fully appreciate, I find that many of my long held notions about almost everything have needed adjusting. It is my suspicion that the death of a spouse will do that to a person, causing them to rethink everything. Whatever healing I am enjoying today has come from more that just my own efforts, altho those efforts were attempted wholeheartedly by me and with a sincere dedication, they were not enough, more was needed. Not being afraid to seek support helped, as I landed on site after site dedicated to grieving folks; all had something to offer, but my need was great and my seeking continued as I careened towards the edge, losing ground to the onslaught of raging emotional waters and finding myself preparing, willingly to go over that edge. In that freshness, when the time since DJ’s death could be counted in days and weeks, when each day I would rouse myself, (notice, I didn’t say wake…) only to listen to the roar of the empty house, and the silent screaming of my mind which shouted down any semblance of rational thinking from any other inner voice; in that time when I had convinced myself that family was not enough to go on for, that my need for relief outweighed any argument or reasons for continuing the living hell I was enduring; when finally, I had determined that as Hendrix says, “…all the jacks are in their boxes, and the clowns have all gone to bed…”  and I just knew that I could see that  “ happiness was staggering on down the street, footprints dressed in red..”, at the most critical moment in my new journey, that is when I found this site…and the rest it can be said is part of my new history. So I arrive here, now, a few months short of two years since that sad morning when one clock stopped and another one started, with much of any healing which may have occurred to me in the intervening time being attributed directly to the efforts of those on this site; from the chat area to the forums and groups, and of course, the Blogs. I am thoroughly grateful for all of it, especially those folks from the Chat area, as they have allowed me and many others, to develop a belief in what I think is the most important of commodities to grieving people, Hope. These are my words and I need to stand by them so that they may become the truth, if for no one else other than me, and today I know that is really all that matters.

Recently, in a conversation with a group of widowed people, some of whom are repartnered or remarried, one of them was asked why, in light of their current relationship status, were they there; a reply that the person wanted to  “give back…” was offered. It sounded reasonable to me as I have encountered other coupled widowed folks who appear in the group and who have said basically the same thing, to give back. It is understandable to me why the original question was asked as we have come to know that many folks, mainly those who have no experience with losing a spouse simply do not ‘get it’. The unspoken question implied by the original was quite clear; can a widowed person who has become part of a couple, still, genuinely get it. Personally, I’m convinced it can be done; it is not a difficult notion for me to accept as I understand that they too have been victims of the Grief Monster and all that entails. In my mind, the fact that I might become involved with someone, even to the point of marrying them, does not in any way diminish the fact of DJ’s death or the ensuing trauma which continues until this very day and I’m sure, always will. My ability to again invest deeply, emotionally with someone cannot for one second erase the pain associated with watching DJ die and then having to face the terrible pain of the startling implications which were soon to be realized. Being with someone different will not remove from my mind the agony of thinking about the 45 plus years we knew each other or about the 40 we shared being married. The ability to again know shared special moments does not suddenly wipe my memory clear, does not block my mind from the pain of knowing just what has been lost; it does not make any less real the total devastation I felt as I found myself in the wilderness of shock and disbelief, weathering a storm of memories and emotions which sent me reeling towards the brink. It cannot still the resounding voice which still comes at times and shouts, “Did that shit really happen..?”… cannot quiet the equally loud and persistent reply of “Yes, It Did!”. No, I don’t think being with someone else will by some trick of the mind allow me to lose the ability to have sleepless nites, wondring, thinking, crying. In my own case, an overgrown sense of self interest and a highly developed trait of selfishness allows me to know that no one, absolutely no one can hurt as much as I do; can miss anyone more than me, has lived any greater sense of confusion from the loss than I have; yours may be bad, but I know mine is worse. Of course all of us who have endured this, feel this way, it’s just the way it is. The one thing I have come to believe is that this is fine, it is how it should be; no one else can know exactly the pain of another…or for how long it may prevail in their lives. It does not matter if our feeling this way makes sense to anyone else; the point of the exercise is that it should make sense to me...and to yourselves. 

This all brings me to a new truth in my life today; in that time when the above mentioned things were the worse, when my mind could conceive of no way forward, when I had no idea of just what I should do next or just how to handle the flood of emotions which were swamping me, it was the words of advice from others, right here on this site, who understood, who offered words of comfort, but more importantly, imparted that which I knew I was lacking but could not articulate at the time, again, that was Hope. The fact is that later, after some time, when I got to know the others and I learned that some of those very same people were in relationships or had even remarried; made no impact on me…that they knew and got it was all I really needed to know. Now for sure, I too remember those times when seeing couples elicited more than long sighs, even to the point of envy and a tinge of jealously, I think it is a natural reaction a lot of us  may experience, especially early on and even for some time after. We are hurt beyond description, our understanding of just what we have lost begins to settle in and the idea that we may never have that again is a powerful agent and cannot be discounted. In my own life, that time passed  for the most part and I am better able to focus on more positive things. But, it is real and it can affect how we behave, I believe it is a natural part of the journey. My challenge was not to linger at that patch of the journey, not allow my loss to blind me to the avenues of healing that might be available. I do believe that having other knowing folks as a support base is the best and I also believe that once death has taken that person we have come to love and care about, once we have been permanently deprived of the presence of those whom we are convinced were perfect for us, that the resultant pain and anguish stays with us a lifetime…no matter what else ever happens, we know that pain forever. And, I don’t think anything, short of them returning can change that fact; a new pair of shoes won’t help…a new dress can’t change anything, another house, cars, geographical solutions, more money, nothing, not even the glow from a different relationship will remove that awful sense of loss that becomes our companion for life or blot out that instant when we realized just what the hell had happened. I believe that once touched by the sting of death, this close to us, we are forever changed, we know. Now, we can learn to carry this, even into future relationships, but I believe the fact is, it will always be there.

Despite what some may think, I don’t believe returning to a coupled lifestyle magically erases all that has happened in the process of our partners dying or provides some type of mental eraser for it all, it is true that the profound sadness and deep sense of loneliness can produce some powerful urges, but being with someone else won’t undo the fact of the loss or the pain it produced. I don’t think being with someone will make us forget all those emotions we may have now come to carry a bit better. And, I believe, once having felt the sting of the death of our partners, being able to support others is not inherently lost simply because we are with someone else. Of course we are all different and we each have our opinions on this, this just happens to be mine. I found it to be my challenge not to dismiss any opportunity for support, having relinquished the ability to know every damn thing the day DJ died, unless demonstrated, I leave ideas of the motivations anyone might have, to a higher authority than myself. It is true that being among folks who have suffered a similar happenstance appears to yield so many positive results, but I also think we need to remember that once stung, we all, know…and that can never be taken away.

When I first arrived here, the very first day, in that terrible early time, a member here greeted and embraced me with advice and words of hope…I have let her know that she will forever be a part of my life and there isn’t a damn thing she can do about it. The words of encouragement and solace she offered made the difference at a critical point for me, right down to asking me if I had children, and before I could answer asking if I wanted any. It produced the first real laugh I had enjoyed up to that point and I will never forget it. I won’t name names here, (Cec) but you know who you are, and there are others, all, Original Members of the BAWC-Bad Ass Widow's Club), you are a shinning example of how the journey can be traveled and survived and I want you to know that your words of hope have helped me and many others and are are still helping, regardless of what box you might check on some official document; you actions make your words true. These are my words, the action of writing them may at some point, help me better understand the truth involved as I understand only too well that the different life is not through with me...yet. They are what I believe and the ideas expressed, I try to live by today, that's a fact, and I ain't lying.