Grief: Volume 3 of oh, who knows? Anyone care to make an over/under wager?
It seems I’m spurred on to write a new grief installment when painful holidays come around that make me miss my mom even more than usual - who would have thought THAT was possible? This time we have a trifecta over the next 3 months: my birthday in July, her birthday in August, and the anniversary of her passing in September. A whole mess of heartache right in the middle of what used to be my favorite time of year.
We might as well take advantage of the emotional turmoil to dive back in to the Grief Series. For anyone new to these blogs, my mother passed away in September 2018 from metastatic pancreatic cancer. I kept a journal during her illness with my thoughts on the process in hopes I might make something useful out of all the pain. And as difficult as it is to write these, it’s also a bit cathartic. If they help even one other person? Completely worth it.
So shall we press on to Volume 3? Do you have your tissues and cocktail in hand? Let’s do this.
Have the difficult conversations - Oh, this is a tough one. If the loved one in question wants to talk about their final wishes, do it. It’s incredibly difficult to give voice to the eventuality you’ve all been praying won’t come to pass, but I assure you talking about their death won’t make it come any sooner or later than it’s going to anyway.
Talk about how they want to spend their final days/moments (sometimes unforeseen medical complications throw a wrench in these plans, but it’s good to know what they’d like if you can make it happen.)
Talk about what they want for services if it’s not already detailed in a legal document like a will. And if it’s not in writing and you anticipate some familial discord, get it in writing to avoid any confusion, even if not a formal, legally binding document.
Talk about any fears or concerns they may have. The last thing you want is for your loved one to be burdened by worry about how their surviving family members will get on after they pass. Get the fears out in the open so you can reassure them they needn’t worry.
You may think these conversations are impossible to have, but as painful as they are, the relief on both sides knowing nothing was left unsaid and wishes are known is such a gift. I had many conversations like this with my mom towards the end, and although they often left me in tears, I know she felt lighter having unburdened her heart.
In her very last week I sat on the couch with her, notepad in hand, and planned out every detail of her services. She had specific songs she wanted played, a guest list (and a do-not-invite list! It was her damn party and she’d invite only the people she wanted!), and the after service luncheon was arranged. I had strict instructions that people were to dress colorfully, and that her cousin simply must make her famous Italian cookies to serve after the luncheon. I proofread her own speech to be read by the funeral director - what strength it took for her to write her own parting words. I was like a wedding coordinator, but instead of planning a celebration of a future together, I was planning a celebration for a life already lived. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, but I don’t regret a single second of it.
And those cookies were awfully good.
Life goes on - Sometimes it feels like it’s inappropriate to take pleasure in anything in the midst of your grief. That it’s somehow disrespectful to be anything but miserable, serious, and dressed in black. In my opinion, I don’t believe in “mourning periods.” My “mourning period” is the remainder of my life since the moment she passed. I’ve been mourning since that night in early September, and I doubt I’ll stop until my own dying breath. But the mourning doesn’t have to encompass my entire existence.
It’s possible to grieve for someone WHILE enjoying life’s pleasures. I’m going to miss her whether I’m wallowing on the sofa at home, or frolicking on a beach on a gorgeous summer day. I can still hold her in my heart while I’m laughing with friends, or planning a vacation.
The grief is a constant companion, but it rises and falls like ocean waves. Sometimes it’s barely noticeable in the background, like white noise from a fan that I can tune out if not focusing on it. And other times it’s deafening, swallowing me whole, and demanding my undivided attention. Life keeps going either way, and it only makes sense to come up for air when I can and enjoy myself. I know that’s what she’d want.
If you’re feeling overwhelmed at the prospect of losing someone, reflect on a past loss - I couldn’t even fathom the idea of life without my mother. It seemed like an absolute impossibility. As things became dire and I was faced with the imminent loss, I was in a panic. If you’re feeling this way, I would encourage you to think back about a past loss of a loved one. I lost my aunt, my mom’s sister, several years ago quite suddenly to another aggressive cancer. It was so sudden I didn’t even get home in time from a wedding I was attending to say goodbye. I was very close to my aunt, and the trauma of losing her seemed insurmountable. How could I possibly live without her?
But I did.
That’s not to say it wasn’t incredibly difficult and painful, but I pulled through. I kept working, I laughed, I cried, I traveled, and I celebrated holidays that were different with her absence but still full of love. I lived. Against all odds, it’s possible. Remind yourself of that. You got through that, and you will get through this.
Ask for help - This is hard for some, but it’s necessary. We humans can handle a lot of heartache, but this level of grief wasn’t meant to be shouldered alone. Reach out when you need to. There is an entire web of family and friends who are positively chomping at the proverbial bit to do SOMETHING for you, but they just don’t know what will help. They will be THRILLED if you ask for help and give them some direction. Reach out to family members for assistance arranging services. Lean on friends if you could use some groceries or a hot meal. Visit your clergy if you belong to a local organized religion for some spiritual guidance. Meet up with a neighbor for coffee to get out of the house. Ask a coworker to pick up your dry cleaning if that will take one more thing off your plate! Truly, your social circle wants to help and you need only ask.
And ask the universe for help - I had one night before my mom passed where I had a complete and utter breakdown. I was sitting in my living room, alone, very late at night (as mentioned in Volume 1 of this Grief Series, nights SUCK and sleep is hard to come by), in a full meltdown. It was the kind of crying where the risk of hyperventilation is real, and you’re pretty sure you’ll never be able to breathe out of either nostril ever again. I was lightheaded and gasping from the sobs, rocking back and forth clutching a pillow, and I found myself saying aloud when I could get enough breath into the empty, darkened room “I don’t know what to do! I don’t know how to live without my mom. I need help! Please, help me!”
It was the most amazing moment of my life. INSTANTLY, as soon as those words left my lips, a calm washed over me. The sobs slowed and eventually stopped, the tears dried up, and the panic and anguish that had been drowning me seconds earlier just faded away and were replaced by a peace and assurance that everything was going to be okay. I thought I had been hit by a tranquilizer dart; the change was so immediate and profound. I didn’t see any angels, hear any voices, or have an out of body experience. But what RELIEF I felt. I just knew in that moment that the universe had my back. Some higher power heard my frantic prayer, and told me without words that I’d make it through this. We’d ALL make it through this. It was nothing short of miraculous.
Whew - we’re done with Volume 3. Were you expecting a spiritual awakening? I sure wasn’t! But what a moment that was.
I hope my dear readers are finding some comfort and reassurance in these blogs. If nothing else, knowing you’re not alone in this process is something.
Oh, and lest you think my spiritual moment of clarity erased all my cares, I can tell you the universe or higher power still kept me grounded. They were willing to allow some transcendence past my anguish, fear, and tears, but my nostrils didn’t unclog for DAYS. Way to keep it real.