Seems like my grief comes in waves. I’ll be fine for days and days and think I have more and more of the tough part under my belt. The start of the Christmas holidays was definitely the last high tide I experienced. I could barely cope toward the beginning of December. Then we went on our whirlwind tour of Disney and Charleston and Chicago and all of the chaos and kids and relatives and general fun distracted me sufficiently well. Coming back, the start of the new year blew a fresh wind of hope into me for a while. Well, it appears the tide has risen again. I struggled with sleep last night just thinking over and over again about Anna in the ICU on her last night with a fucking respirator in her mouth, heavily sedated, tossing her head from side to side, presumably trying to get it out of her mouth. She did not deserve to suffer like that. I put myself in that bed and imagine how horrible it must have been. Except that I can’t imagine it at all. I was pushing the kids in the stroller to my good friend LZ’s house today and remembering the hundreds and hundreds of hours Anna and my kids and I have spent with her and her kids (and her sadly misguided soon-to-be-ex) and just wondering how the fuck I got to this point.
Alyssa told me she was thinking a lot about Anna today and feeling sad. She didn’t want to say much more than that. She and I went to Tae Kwon Do tonight. Usually a good workout and it just doesn’t hurt as much for a few hours afterwards, but tonight it still hurt. I missed Anna the minute we climbed back in the car. Ian was talking about Anna today too. Remembering some bruise she got hiking. Emma and I watched some video of Anna today and she didn’t seem to register that Anna in the video was her mommy.
My grandfather passed away on Friday night. So my almost-90 year old gram and I are in the same boat, looking at the future without the one we love. I was thinking today about what made it the same and what made it different. I suppose we all maintain the illusion at some level that we’re immortal and that keeps us going. At 35, this basically was working for me. Most of us at this age know few people our age that have died, and if we’re lucky, it’s not someone we loved dearly or even knew super well. At least in the west, we can generally maintain the immortality illusion past our thirties. Anna’s death has, obviously, shattered this illusion for me. My gram is almost 90. She has lost lots of people she’s loved. I imagine at that age, it’s hard to maintain the immortality illusion with your own death rapidly impending and with so many reminders of loss having paved your path. So that’s one difference.
Also, at almost 90, she’s not exactly going to be hitting the dating pool. She really is looking at the unblinking eye of loneliness. Yeah, she’s got my mom and aunt and uncle. And that’s really good and important (and hopefully they’ll all be able to put aside their differences in my Gram’s best interest). And she has my brother and I and my cousins and some other family members. With the exception of my aunt, none of us are geograpically close, unfortunately. I wish that weren’t true. Every once in a while, the eye of loneliness blinks for me and I can imagine dating or somehow having adult companionship at some point in the future. I’m in no place to do so now, but I have time on my side (Alyssa was talking about wanting a stepmom today - one that is nice. The whole idea is still way too scary to me). So that’s another difference.
Anna and I spent so much time adapting ourselves so that together, we’d overcome anything and our marriage would survive. When she died, it was like someone ripped out a few major organs. I imagine it’s like that for my Gram, but probably more. They were just about to celebrate their 70th wedding anniversary. We barely made it to 10. Crappy circumstances in either case.
It’s funny, when I am doing better, I find myself a bit guilty still that I’m not grieving harder. Then when it hits, it’s at least familiar, if not comforting. I think I have a lot more work to do, grief-wise, and perhaps it’s frustration even more than guilt that the work isn’t progressing faster. Anna’s 45th birthday is coming on the 31st. The 6 month anniversary of her death is coming on the 29th. I hope I can ride this wave out ok.
Puddlejumper
| 16-Jan-07 at 8:27 am | Permalink
Hey chook.
Sorry to hear about your grandfather.
As for feeling guilty…Don’t be too hard on yourself. Its only been six-months. You’re quite entitled to still be grieving. Give yourself as long as it takes.
And give yourself a big pat on the back from me. You’re coping so well with your kids. I can’t begin to imagine how hard it must be to even keep up with the simple day-to-day stuff.
You’re doing fine.
venessa
| 16-Jan-07 at 9:10 am | Permalink
I don’t know what to say. I’ll say a prayer for you.
Kat
| 16-Jan-07 at 10:05 am | Permalink
Jase, my sister’s husband died a little over 3 years ago now. Cancer. Compounding things,my sister and her kids went through a huge upheaval simply because they were living where he was stationed for Coca-Cola. It’s just now that my sister is finding someone to spend time with and I know that it’s hard still. That something minor happens - something her husband would have handled or something they would have laughed over - and a fresh tide of grief comes rushing in.
It takes time - more time that we want to allow it. We want the pain over with and instead it sneaks up and whacks you on the back of the head.
I’m sorry that it’s catching you right now. It really sounds like you are coping really well. That you have done a wonderful job of piecing things back together and hanging on for those cute kids.
karrie
| 18-Jan-07 at 7:01 am | Permalink
(((((((((((((Jason))))))))))))))))))))
jase
| 19-Jan-07 at 2:50 pm | Permalink
Puddle - thanks for the reassurance. Btw, what’s a chook?
Venessa - Thanks for the prayer. Seriously. It must be helping. I’m doing better today.
Kat - thanks for the bit about your sister. The unexpected triggers are the toughest, for sure. Catch me off my guard. The second time, the same trigger isn’t so rough.
Karrie - thank you, my friend.