Grief: Volume 4 of Infinity, I Reckon
It occurs to me now, as I look at my blog posts, that it’s been over a year since I did one on grief. I’d thought about doing one countless times during that year. Hell, I was off for 2 months on COVID-19 furlough and still didn’t do it! I could have found the time to sit down and pour my little, broken heart into another grief post on any number of occasions. Why didn’t I?
I have a theory, as I so often do. During the first year of my Mom’s passing, grief was all day, every day. It was all encompassing and ever present (in varying intensities, thankfully, or I’d have quite literally drowned in it.) As such, really sitting with and revisiting those painful, final moments with my Mom to write these blog posts was quite doable. I was in constant emotional pain anyway, so making a conscious effort to muse on the finer points of the grieving process wasn’t as onerous as one might imagine.
But now, now there are swaths of time where I almost feel normal. Life has gone on, just as I predicted in my last grief post. I’ve laughed, danced, traveled, celebrated, and grieved new losses. I can go days, and maybe even weeks without thinking of my Mom in sadness. I can breathe in and out.
Now, there are still moments when that sneaky heartbreak reminds me it’s with me (I suspect it always will be) and I’m utterly paralyzed by a wave of despair. In those moments I miss my Mom like the loss JUST happened, and it’s agonizing. But although no less painful, they’re at least less frequent than they once were.
As such, having tasted the freedom of bits of life without that anguish, it’s harder for me to purposefully pour myself back into it to write these posts. Despite that, I still feel they serve me and others, so I’m willing to go down this road again. So, without further ado, shall we?
Worrying is not useful. All it does is ruin tomorrow’s peace - Oh, this is a tough one. This lesson I have to remind myself at least once a week regarding a variety of topics. It reminds me a bit of another piece of sage advice about accepting wherever you are in life, and how fighting the reality of your situation leads to so much unhappiness. The crux of this wisdom is this - not worrying/accepting the reality of the situation is not the same as passivity and inaction. What it means is you accept/acknowledge what’s happening, however horrible, and then with a clear head start thinking of a path forward from there. Worrying about what’s happening now, or what may happen tomorrow, does NOTHING. Nothing constructive, anyway. It keeps you awake at night, gives you agita, makes your face break out, makes you stress-eat like an absolute hog, and generally makes you feel like you’re on the verge of a nervous breakdown and/or a stroke. Constantly. Don’t do it. Here are some concrete examples of things I worried about that could have had more constructive behaviors attached to them:
I worried about what would happen with a variety of potential medical complications when she was in the ICU - instead, I should have written down the scenarios I was stressing about, asked the doctors what the plan would be if any came to pass, and ask what THEY thought was most likely to occur based on her presentation, in case I was way off base
I worried about how we’d manage end of life care regarding pain management and services - instead, I should have remembered social workers and nurse case managers exist for a reason. I should have talked to them more, explored the options, and had a list of pertinent numbers at the ready.
I worried about how I’d ever go on without her - ah. That’s a tough one. And one that cannot be answered until it’s lived. But I can say with absolute authority, spending all that time worrying about it when she was still around was a colossal waste of time; time that would have been better spent being more present with her today instead of fearing a tomorrow without her.
This too shall pass - this applies to the moments of joy and of deepest sorrow. Of course, that’s all life is, yes? A series of moments that flit in and out of the transom of our experience on this mortal coil. It’s why living in the present moment is so vital, because that is all there ever is - now. So when you’re feeling joy, FEEL it. Embrace it. Share it. It will pass. And when you’re feeling despair, FEEL that too. Let it wash over you. Wallow in it for a bit if that feels right. Then let it go. Because it will go, I promise. It all passes eventually, and then we’re on to the next moment, whatever that may be.
Accept that other loved ones close to the person who is dying or has passed have different grieving processes - this is really, really hard. It’s particularly challenging for me as an empathetic introvert who simultaneously wants to comfort everyone yet hole up in my safe space. I think the best you can do is acknowledge others are going their process differently and that their path may be at odds with yours at various points. When you want to sit quietly and just meditate on the situation, they may want to talk about it in detail. When you’d rather focus on the positive, they may want to catastrophize every possibility. Try for a little give and take - indulge in their path for a set period, then take the time you need for your own process. Explain this to the loved one in question, lest they feel hurt by your retreat, if you do. They may still feel hurt, but that’s on them, to a degree. You can’t please everyone at the expense of your own emotional and mental health.
When grieving, all the well-wishes and messages of concern can be both desired, yet overwhelming - this is more advice for someone reaching out to a loved one who is grieving. We all mean well, but the influx of love can actually be overwhelming and draining sometimes. In my experience, I found the cards/letters most welcome. Folks could really pour their hearts out, offer me advice and comfort, make themselves available should I need anything, but there was no pressure for an immediate response on my part. The barrage of texts felt wearisome at times, as I was compelled to answer all of them in a timely manner. And as a millennial I eschew the phone ANYWAY (ha!) so that could be draining. Everyone may feel differently about this (I suppose you should ask them how they’d best like to stay in communication,) but that was my takeaway.
Another grief post down! Although I joke about infinity, I think there will be 2 more if I base them on the notes I took while Mom was ill.
How are you feeling?
I think the one thing I find most comforting is knowing that as miserable as grief is, it’s a universal human condition for anyone who has had the privilege to love and be loved. You’re never alone. The broken hearts club is growing every day - I’m not only the president, I’m also a client!