I haven’t even looked at this site since I made my last post. I haven’t made an attempt to write anything at all. Even when I try to write in a journal just to let out what is in my head all of a sudden there is nothing to say. Daily there are a million things in my head that I want to get out, share, and let go of but daily I feel completely unable to say any of it out loud. This week I’ve finally felt the smallest release and decided to seize the opportunity in case it goes away.
If you have never experienced a huge loss or overwhelming grief, and I sincerely hope you haven’t, it is hard to put into words all the things that come from it. I’m going to try. For myself. And for anyone who reads this and feels like they are going crazy. You aren’t. And you aren’t alone although if my own feelings are anything to go by you probably feel that way quite often.
When I found out my Mom had cancer I very much immediately thought she would die. My Dad died quite suddenly and my family is full of optimists which didn’t make a difference then and they were so full of optimism about my mom that it just felt the same. It wasn’t the same at all.
My Dad died from a viral attack on a heart defect. We had no warning at all. That, I thought, would be the hardest and worst thing in my life. There were no time for discussions or goodbyes. I had so much resentment and anger toward my Dad because he had multiple opportunities to get his heart problem fixed in the many years since they discovered it and with a fixed heart what killed him would have been like a simple cold. It’s been ten years since he passed and I’ve made peace with the fact that unlike so many people my Dad lived his life exactly how he wanted and unapologetically. I still miss him deeply and there are still times when the first person I want to call is him. The pain changes but it most certainly doesn’t dissipate. He always told me that I needed to let loose more and have more fun. I can only hope that the choices I’ve made in life reflect that advice.
My Mom died from brain cancer. We found out the day after her 51st birthday. The funny or not so funny thing depending on who you are is that my Mom was one of those people who always had something wrong with her and when she started complaining about dizzy spells and blurry vision we told her it was because she didn’t eat enough or ever drink water. That initial guilt for my brother and I was pretty strong. We quickly learned that her tumor was inoperable but they thought radiation followed by chemotherapy really stood a good chance of beating it. This was 2020. So on top of her being sick none of us could go with her to any treatments including when they took her to the hospital for what would become the day they found the tumor. I work in a restaurant so on top of my mom fighting for her life my family felt it wasn’t safe for me to see her without quarantining first which I couldn’t continually and also couldn’t just take all that time off work although my boss was very accommodating. I saw her in June and took her to some radiation appointments. I spoke to her every day for a while and then when she started to decline because of the chemo I would check in with my aunt. In August my aunt called and said she thought I should start coming home as often as possible. It took two long months for my family to finally accept the reality that my Mom was not getting better. Some days I’m still really angry at the time I lost with her but I understand their faith and their need to cling to hope. We all agreed that she wouldn’t finish her chemo. There had been no improvements and it was only making her sick. The doctors told us it would be about three weeks until she passed but much like the strong woman she’s always been she stuck around for seven. The amount of pain it caused everyone just to have to sit back and watch her become a shell of a person is something I didn’t know I could withstand. I still think about it constantly and often have nightmares about taking care of her and the state she was in at the end. You always expect to have to help care for your parents when they are old but seeing your relatively young parent reduced to a hospital bed completely unable to help themselves will break you. My aunt, mom’s sister, took time off of work and was there nearly every second of the six months my mom was sick and I’ll never be able to thank her enough or repay her for what she did because the truth is I’m not sure any other person in our family could have done what she did or made it without her there. My mom’s wonderful husband was there every step of the way as well and at seventeen years older than my mom I’m positive it never crossed his mind that he would have to watch his wife disappear before his eyes. My brother was only twenty-one when my mom passed. They were so close and she was all he had left as a parent and I couldn’t even be there as he had to watch a second parent leave him. It has just been over a year since my Mom passed and I truly think the grieving process has just begun for most of us. Much of this past year I think we were in shock still. She was such a huge part of our lives and had an extremely large presence any time she was around. I know the rest of my family feels her absence just as strongly as I do and that she hasn’t left our minds for one second since she left us.
Grief is a bitch. It is difficult and absolutely makes you feel like you’ll never climb your way out. My parents are not the only people in my life that I’ve lost that were very close and very important to me but their loss is certainly the strongest I’ve felt. There are days where my mind is so busy but I have nothing to say and my body feels empty. There are days where I want to scream and crawl out of my skin. I find my feelings hard to talk about. I don’t like to say out loud that I feel weak. Some days I just want to never speak again and some days it’s all I can do to hold the scream inside my body. Sometimes I wake up and there is a moment where it feels like everything is normal and that they are still here just a phone call away. There are days where I wake up crying or already sad because I dreamt of them alive and upon waking immediately know that was just a dream. There are so many things I remember about them that bring a smile to my face. There are regrets I have about all the things they have and will miss in our lives. There is so much fear that as time passes I will forget them. Their essence. Their smiles. Their laughs. Most days I know that losing people is a part of life and that we will all get through this and be okay but there are plenty of days that I feel so broken and like I may never be truly happy again. There is fear that people may think I’m not grieving enough or that I’m grieving too much. There is fear that my grief is a burden to those around me and the urge to keep it all to myself is overpowering. There is fear that if I don’t handle my feelings in a timely manner that my grief and anger could ruin my relationships with the people I care about. Anger. Stress. Sadness. Exhaustion. Feeling out of control. The need to have time to yourself to process and the intense feeling of loneliness. It’s all there. Sometimes all at once. Sometimes you get a break and they take turns. At the very bottom, not even daily, there are these beautiful glimmers of light and hope that sneak by all of those other things and keep me going. My grandmother talking out loud in her bedroom to a game show. My grandpa finally retiring and finally just enjoying the remainder of his life. My husband and his dry sense of humor that keeps me astounded daily. My brother finishing college, getting engaged, starting a job he loves, and making a life for himself. My cousin’s son ,who was born right after my Mom got sick, being more energetic and funnier than any of us can handle. My aunt continuing to do too much for others because it makes her feel good. My friends getting married. Some days are so dark I truly feel like giving up and that my grief might suffocate me one day. But there is light. Sometimes I have to force myself to accept it and force myself to see all the goodness that is still around me.
Just know that if you’ve felt any of these things you aren’t alone and you aren’t crazy. It’s okay to cry. It’s okay to want to be alone or not be alone. It’s okay to need people or need help. Time does make it all feel less raw. Most importantly don’t be afraid to tell someone. Even if it’s a stranger. If you need to talk, talk. If you feel like you are losing let someone know. Letting your grief consume you is a dangerous thing but allowing yourself to feel that grief is so important.
New Life Living 