When my father died nearly 19 years ago, I don’t recall feeling as much pain and grief as I do from the loss of my mother. That isn’t to say I loved my father any less. He was the most important man in my life and probably the most important man I will ever have in my life. However, I wasn’t the one who stood beside him daily, intimately watching his decline in painful detail. My mother was that person. I’m now getting a glimpse into the despair and loneliness that my mother must have felt when she lost her soul mate of nearly 32 years. It’s eye opening, heart-wrenching, and yet comforting in a very odd way. It strangely makes me feel even more connected to my mom and gives me a deeper level of understanding than I ever had before.
I started attending a six-week bereavement support group three weeks ago. I’m learning so much and feeling so connected with other people who are experiencing the loss of a mother – many who passed on as recently (or more recently) than my mom. It’s been extremely helpful to me to have a safe forum to talk about things surrounding my mother’s death that I cannot yet talk about here. I’ve learned about signs and symptoms of the grieving process – a process that is different for the person who is left behind than the Five Stages of Grieving that Kubler-Ross describes, which is about the dying person themselves.
One of the signs is a need to keep talking about the loss.* Some people get tired of hearing it. For some it’s too painful and reminds them of their own grief. But I do have a need to keep talking about it, processing it, looking at the event and post-event days from all different angles. It helps me move through this.
One thing I know is I have to move through it. I can’t avoid it. And sometimes that just sucks. I’ve kept myself very busy with work and processing mom’s estate matters –and until lately, caring for Little Miss Laila full time – that I haven’t had a chance to stop and feel things.
There are places I go where I sit with others, or alone, and the tears just start flowing. (Even at a Seahawks game.) I can’t stop them, and often I try really hard to stop them. It’s odd, the physical thing that happens – so involuntary. I’m not a crier, so when the tears flow, I know the pain is deep. I can be in the middle of the grocery store, at dinner with a friend, in the car alone, making tea, among a group of friends, and my body just starts leaking through my eyes. It just happens.
So I’m learning to accept the process and roll with it. I’m learning to be gentle with myself. To set fewer expectations on what I can accomplish these days. There are days I feel paralyzed and unable to make any sort of decision or take any action. Then there are days where I’m high-voltage electricity in human form.
With that said, I’m off to do something fun.
*Not apologizing for the fact that I may have slightly redundant blog posts. I’m trying to get back into the swing of blogging. I love blogging, I love writing. It’s a great medium for me, in addition to my private journal I work in as well. Some things aren’t meant for Internet consumption.
{ 6 comments }
I understand. I am now going through the pain of watching my mother decline, and rather suddenly, all things considered. I know one day she won’t be here so am trying to savor each day that I have with her. I hope that each day gets a bit easier for you, but it’s never a bad thing to reflect and enjoy the memories of one so loved.
Bev, enjoy every moment with her. Time is so precious.
In your own way, in your own time. *hugs*
Thank you, Claire. Hugs back.
having helped too many friends through the grieving process, the one thing I have learned is everyone goes through it differently. there is no right or wrong way. You feel what you feel. The important thing is not beat yourself up, but don’t let it consume you. It’s okay to have those occasional days where you stay in your jammies and just be sad, but don’t let that become a way of life. Life. that’s the key word. you have to go on with life. go through the motions if you have to. it gets better. surround yourself with people who won’t think twice when the tears start flowing. surround yourself with beautiful things that make you smile. do things.
Caring for your mom was a big part of your life for quite a while. Your day to day life is not quite the same. Before her health started to fade, she was a big part of your life. You need time to adjust to this “normal.” I have no doubt you will get through this because you are strong and smart.
Thank you, Teri. One thing I’ve learned through my bereavement support group is that in the past, when I suffered a loss, like when my dad died 19 years ago, I kept myself so busy that I didn’t feel the grief as much. You’re right, too, in that my mother has been a huge part of my life. The gap left is huge. There are days, like last night, where it was all I could do to just sit on the couch and zone out on TV. I rarely do that. Always so much – too much – to do. And, I’m not sure so much that it is sadness all the time, but just utter exhaustion. That well inside is bone dry and cracked. It’s going to take time to repair the foundation and fill it back up.
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