Friday, March 25, 2016

More than a Bug on the Wall

I was watching a television show the other day when a small gimlet of conversation landed on me with a rather emotional thud.

"Grief takes its own path. And it's a different one for every person."

It was said in regards to a woman who'd had a particularly calm reaction to the death of her husband. But it could definitely apply to many people. Including me.

Grief is universal. Everyone experiences it, if life is long enough. Loss is ALWAYS hard, but not everyone walks the same path. And we don't always walk the same path with each loss. My mother died in November 2014; my daughter died in February. My grief for them is remarkably different, and, yes, this surprised me. Mother, in turn, lost her mother in 1985, and missed her every day. My dad died in 1996, and I'm convinced Mother never quite got over that loss. One way that showed up was that she couldn't bring herself to sell the car he bought for her just before he died.

And I've come to realize that grief has blindsided me in ways I didn't expect. One of those is an intense forgetfulness, a loss of memory that is sometimes crippling. I try to recall something and it's like staring into a dark tunnel. I know what I need is on the other side, but I can't seem to get there.

So if I owe you ANYTHING--email, blog post, phone call--please remind me. Although I have a calendar I check every day, I've discovered that I haven't written everything down, relying one a memory that until recently was quite good.

Not now. So don't hesitate to ask. It will not bother me for you to do so.

That memory loss can be short term as well. I often forget I made tea--and sometimes lunch. I call editing projects by the wrong name, and blend due dates (NOT a good thing). 

I honestly didn't expect it to linger the way it has either. Some days I am quite chipper and productive. Others...not so much. The sadness comes out of nowhere and knocks me off my carefully reclaimed high ground. Unpredictable and dreadfully hard on the work schedule.

@2016 by Jerry Box
Friends have been patient, although I'm sure they get tired of me suddenly staring off into space as if I've spotted a large bug on the wall.

The good news in all this is that there ARE good days. A lot of them. More as time goes along. More good news is that I have great friends who have both left me alone (when I need it) and listened to me mourn (when I have to). My church has been spectacular. And God is there too, helping me back toward the high ground. But that journey to the high ground takes time, through the good moments--and the bad.

I tend to only socialize during the good times. So when someone asks how I'm doing, I'll say, "I'm fine." And I am. Truly. One step on the path at a time.

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