When someone you love passes from this life to the Summerlands you start to count the passage of time in a completely different way. At first it is one breath at a time, one excruciatng, heartbroken moment at a time. Eventually it will be by the day, then the week, and finally a month. But that first month after their passing seems like an eternity that went by in the blink of an eye.
When Jeremy died I marked the passage of time in such a way. At first it was a week at a time, then it was one month after he died...two months...three months...six months...a year. For awhile I went to the cemetary to "see" him every week, then every month. Now I only go once or twice a year. He is not there.
The first year is horribly excruciating. It is the first year without your loved one to share life with. The first birthday without this person, the first holiday season, the first trip of the season to the beach or whatever it is you did together and enjoyed doing. The joy just gets zapped out of your life.
Nine years ago today I put my son's cold body into the ground and said goodbye for good. I probably won't say anything to anybody about what today is to me, but my heart still hurts. I do not want sympathy. In writing this, I hope that someone whose heart is aching from a horrendous loss will find this blog and know that with time, it will get better.
When Jeremy died I dreaded the holidays more than ever before because it started with his birthday around the time of Thanksgiving. Then winter comes and with the New Year the cold weather and darkness that have always sent me spiraling into some kind of seasonal depression. Finally February comes along with the hope of spring to appear soon, the time of new life and new beginnings but also the time when I can kind of bring to a close the cycle of his birth, his death and his burial.
The bulbs and seedlings are coming up in my yard now. The trees are getting new leaves and some plants are blooming. I am reminded of that never-ending cycle of birth, death and rebirth.
And I remember the young man my son was, I wonder what he might have been.
It doesn't hurt quite as much now, but it does hurt. Time took away much of the pain and even the memory of it, for which I am grateful. But I will never, ever forget.
Peace,
Amy
Showing posts with label death. Show all posts
Showing posts with label death. Show all posts
Thursday, February 21, 2013
Monday, September 26, 2011
Grief/Mourning
This weekend, on a campout deep in the Texas woods with many of those whom I hold near and dear to my heart, I met a woman who is angry. She is angry at the Gods, she is angry at life and she is angry at her situation. She called down the wrath of the Gods, dared them to challenge her, to beat her, to apologize to her.
You see, her dear husband died four months ago in a motorcycle accident -- which was quite unexpected and very much a shock for this woman. Her emotions are very, very raw and new. She is hurting to the very core of her being, her heart is broken and her world is completely and utterly flipped upside down and inside out.
She wanted to argue with everyone who tried to tell her...it's not about you. His death had absolutely nothing whatsoever to do with you... We tired to tell her, don't challenge the Gods. But she would not listen. She dominating group conversations and demanded by her very presence the attention of every person in the group over and over again.
Alcohol made her more beligerant. She dominated everything.
The thing is, she is a sweet soul, I could feel it buried underneath her anger and her grief. I saw it when she got up early the next morning before anyone else and picked up the garbage and things left behind from the festivities of the night before.
When I encountered her, as she was finishing picking up after us, I asked her to sit and talk with me awhile. I asked her about her husband and what happened, how long ago and let her talk.
Then I shared with her that I, too, had suffered a loss that totally rocked my world and turned it upside down and inside out. I told her, I promised her, that this, too, would pass and that in time she would find her "new" normal, she would not hurt so very, very much and she would learn how to deal with her pain. I promised her there would come a day when she would realize that her every waking moment was no longer about her husband and her pain. I told her my own belief, what helped get me through the first two years or so when it hurt so much, that I believe we come to this earth to learn what it is to be human, and we choose what experiences we will have so that we can learn and to grow. To experience the death of one we love so very dearly is one of those things that comes with being human beings, it is unavoidable and a very painful part of our journeys.
She focuses on the last moments, worried about whether he suffered. I know how she feels, but for the sake of my sanity, I could not dwell on those thoughts when my son died.
What I didn't tell her, and I would if I could have that conversation with her again is that the first year is the absolute hardest, when you go through the first of everything without the one you love. I would tell her to not let other people tell her how to grieve or for how long, but to take the time she needs to grieve in her own way. I would tell her she is not alone, that her reaction is very normal and it's okay.
This woman has people who love her and are caring for and watching out for her very lovingly. I am glad for that.
It's hard to watch someone going through that kind of wild, angry, passionate grief. But sometimes, one can find comfort from a stranger who can show a small kindness in listening and sharing. I hope that in some small way I gave her some measure of comfort to help carry her through this terrible time in her life. I'll probably never see her again, but if I do, I'll be sure to check and see how she's doing.
Peace,
Amy
You see, her dear husband died four months ago in a motorcycle accident -- which was quite unexpected and very much a shock for this woman. Her emotions are very, very raw and new. She is hurting to the very core of her being, her heart is broken and her world is completely and utterly flipped upside down and inside out.
She wanted to argue with everyone who tried to tell her...it's not about you. His death had absolutely nothing whatsoever to do with you... We tired to tell her, don't challenge the Gods. But she would not listen. She dominating group conversations and demanded by her very presence the attention of every person in the group over and over again.
Alcohol made her more beligerant. She dominated everything.
The thing is, she is a sweet soul, I could feel it buried underneath her anger and her grief. I saw it when she got up early the next morning before anyone else and picked up the garbage and things left behind from the festivities of the night before.
When I encountered her, as she was finishing picking up after us, I asked her to sit and talk with me awhile. I asked her about her husband and what happened, how long ago and let her talk.
Then I shared with her that I, too, had suffered a loss that totally rocked my world and turned it upside down and inside out. I told her, I promised her, that this, too, would pass and that in time she would find her "new" normal, she would not hurt so very, very much and she would learn how to deal with her pain. I promised her there would come a day when she would realize that her every waking moment was no longer about her husband and her pain. I told her my own belief, what helped get me through the first two years or so when it hurt so much, that I believe we come to this earth to learn what it is to be human, and we choose what experiences we will have so that we can learn and to grow. To experience the death of one we love so very dearly is one of those things that comes with being human beings, it is unavoidable and a very painful part of our journeys.
She focuses on the last moments, worried about whether he suffered. I know how she feels, but for the sake of my sanity, I could not dwell on those thoughts when my son died.
What I didn't tell her, and I would if I could have that conversation with her again is that the first year is the absolute hardest, when you go through the first of everything without the one you love. I would tell her to not let other people tell her how to grieve or for how long, but to take the time she needs to grieve in her own way. I would tell her she is not alone, that her reaction is very normal and it's okay.
This woman has people who love her and are caring for and watching out for her very lovingly. I am glad for that.
It's hard to watch someone going through that kind of wild, angry, passionate grief. But sometimes, one can find comfort from a stranger who can show a small kindness in listening and sharing. I hope that in some small way I gave her some measure of comfort to help carry her through this terrible time in her life. I'll probably never see her again, but if I do, I'll be sure to check and see how she's doing.
Peace,
Amy
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