I didn’t grieve. I spent this past year avoiding sadness…attending to stuff and people instead. I wrote a bunch…formed new friendships…lost others…found my heart and lost it again. I thought I discovered the fast track through grieving (I hate that word) but I found out I’m not special at all. I’m on my knees again…feeling stupid and wrecked. Grief wins…as it probably should. (For a little while at least.)
I am self-absorbed but feel it’s the right thing to do now. (You might think that’s all I’ve ever been…but I barely scratched the surface.) I tried to bury my emotional intensity along with Laura’s ashes. She didn’t like drama and neither do I but I’m sorry…for me…this is dramatic stuff.
The fuse of a very large cannon was lit last year when Laura died. I was in such a hurry to put the past few years behind me that I stuck my head inside that cannon…determined to block out the steady hiss of her loss. The fuse burned down a few days ago and it blew my head clean off.
A Possible Lesson:
Pain is clearly a part of life albeit the suckiest part. The more it hurts the more I try to avoid it…I don’t think I’m different from most people in that respect. I’m also pretty sure that plunging headlong into it those dark places might be the most responsible course of action when they show up.
People still tell me I’m brave. No. I haven’t been brave in this part of my life. I was the opposite. I’m here now…standing in front of a big dark cloud…but as odd as it sounds I’m kind of looking forward to walking into the saddest part of my life thus far.
I’m going on faith that when I come out on the other side I will no longer be dismantled…but put together. It’s time, huh? OK…let’s do this thing. (Gulp)
Like many, I am grabbing grief by throat and forcing it to release me from it’s clutches? Yet knowing it will travel with you, sometimes behind you in the shadows, and sometimes ahead of you lighting your path, you hike up your bootstraps and march forward. Hang on, there is a reason it is called “the valley of the shadow of death.” I’ll walk with you, listen to you, cry with you, share your pain… I know who does that best.
Oh Andy! Well, I can truly say that I literally feel your pain. You’ve written this beautifully. Grief cannot be avoided forever, it tends to rear its ugly head when you least expect it. It can only be tamped down for a bit. I don’t think you’ve really avoided all the sadness, you were only looking at it in small sections. You are stronger now and can handle the pain….step into it and come out on the other side. You’ll be…changed, different yet still ANDY, still the dad you are, the man you are and the human being you are and always were. On the other side of sadness and pain is hope and joy and love. Believe it. I’ll believe it FOR you for now (until you can see it for yourself).
Be well. We’ll wait for you on the other side of the cloud.
Joni
i have to say that i agree with joni and wes…one of the things the coroner said to me when michael died was that grief is real and i have to feel it. i too stayed very busy this past year…there are no instructions given to us about grief before it happens…when it does happen we scramble to read books, go to grief groups and try to find answers on “how do we do this” and “when is it over” i read a book about dark emotions and what we can learn from them AND that they are not a bad thing!! so…this first year i stayed busy…maybe the second year i won’ t stay so busy…bottom line is that this is the one time we HAVE to take care of ourselves and it is OK!! you have my support andy…it is ok to feel bad..one of my favorite things to tell my grand-daughters is that tears are ok, they help to wash away the sadness!
Oh Andy, my heart goes out to you. You have described the rawness of grief so eloquently and so truthfully. Just when we think there is light at the end of the tunnel and we are going to be alright, then whoosh we are knocked sideways again by an avalanche of grief. I am probably mixing my metaphors a bit here, but your post spoke to me at a very profound level, as I too am suffering the pain of grief at the loss of my precious baby. I wish I had words of comfort, all I can think and say to both of us is that this too shall pass. I know you will rise again Andy and thank you for sharing so honestly and bravely with us. Take care. Marie
Dear Andy, What does one say? What does one do? My prayers are still with you.May God fill your heart with peace .God can heal our breaking heart. He is healing mine moment by moment.I pray that he fills you with joy.Not to take a place of your precious wife but to cushion the blow.God be with you and your family. Cindy from Indiana.