Six Years: For You, A Moment; For Me, A Lifetime


I used to look at tombstones in cemeteries and do the math between the dates. 

I was most focused on how long this person or that person walked the earth. 

I still do that sometimes.  But now I do something else as well. 

I look to the left and the right to see if the person who ran ahead left parents behind.  My eye is drawn to the solitary stones with the same last name next to a double monument clearly honoring a married pair.

grieving mother at grave

And then I do a different kind of math. 

Read the rest here: https://thelifeididntchoose.com/2019/04/11/for-you-a-moment-for-me-a-lifetime/

It’s a Process, Not a State of Being

I wrote this last year about this time. As I approach the six anniversary of Dom’s leaving, it still describes my journey.

We want grief to be something we can work through, get over, move past, neatly incorporate into our present life without untidy ends poking out all over.

But it’s not.

It’s an ongoing process that sometimes takes more energy and effort and sometimes less but always drawing away some resources from the here and now.

Melanie ❤

C. S. Lewis gave voice to so much of human experience in ways that help us understand ourselves and one another.

His book, Mere Christianity, began as a series of radio talks that were later compiled, published and sold millions and millions of copies.

I think Lewis managed to use a conversational, inviting voice in all his works.

When I read them I feel like I’m chatting with a friend (granted, an extremely erudite friend!).  He and I are discussing a thing, reasoning through it together.

He’s not teaching me something, he’s guiding me to learn it for myself.

Read the rest here: https://thelifeididntchoose.com/2019/04/05/not-a-state-but-a-process/

When Grief Sneaks Up On You

Dependable routine is one of my most important coping mechanisms.

I like slipping from one familiar chore to the next without thinking.

It keeps my mind busy in an effortless way that leaves little room for random thoughts, little space for grief-inducing memories to sneak in and trip me up.

Change Aversion And The Conflicted User - Usability Geek

Change is really not my friend.

Still, change is upon me (and millions of others!) because of this virus. So I’m doing the best I can to cope.

Instead of a house to myself, now my husband is working from home. Instead of quiet mornings alone, conference calls echo off the walls and follow me out open windows to the yard. Instead of before dark breakfast and early lunch with the kitchen closed by noon, I eat early, he eats later, I eat lunch and he eats supper. Kitchen open til eight.

None of those are things I can’t get used to.

After all, I’m blessed he’s here, has a job and we have not only enough to eat but a wide variety . I like cooking and love finding creative uses for leftovers.

Creative Ways to Use Leftovers - Bites for Foodies

What no one but me knows about all the change is this: I’m walking places I tend not to go-in the house, in the yard, down our paths-and every place I set my foot holds memories I’ve been avoiding.

When we moved an old pen a couple weeks ago for new chickens we found a rusty chain attached to its base. While my husband and son were digging it out to use again I was transported to the day Dominic moved the pen years ago with the tractor. It was just me and him and he was a little perturbed with me that I needed it moved. I saw him in my mind’s eye plain as day on the tractor. I could hear his baritone voice above the trusty thrum of the engine and picture him hopping down from the seat, unhooking the chain and driving off to park the tractor.

It was a flash. Here and gone in an instant. But the rest of the day I suffered from a grief hangover that I just couldn’t shake.

These are challenging days.

So much of the routine I depend on to guide me through has been shredded. So many of the habits I’ve developed over years are unavailable right now.

Image may contain: ocean, cloud, sky and water, possible text that says 'FACEBOOK.COM/ SILENTGRIEFSUPPORT THE GRIEF ATTACKS OF CHILD LOSS ARE so UNEXPECTED. THEY COME CRASHING LIKE A WAVE THAT TRIES TO SWEEP US AWAY CLARA HINTON'

So I’m doing the best I can.

One day and one memory at a time.

Breathe in, breathe out.

Repeat.

So Many Grief Anniversaries: A Survivor’s Guide


There are more than you might think.  

Most folks would count the date of death and maybe the date of burial or memorial service.

But a mama’s heart counts it ALL.

I count the day he left, the day I was first able to view his body, the days of visitation, the day of the funeral and burial.

  • I count the day we cleaned out his apartment.
  • I count the day I notified credit card companies he would no longer require their services.
  • I count the day I received the death certificate.
  • I count the day I got his posthumous diploma.

And every year these dates roll around again to remind my heart of the pain I felt then and to pierce it afresh. 

Read the rest here: https://thelifeididntchoose.com/2018/02/12/how-can-i-survive-grief-anniversaries/

Post Holiday Blues: When The Grief Comes Crashing Down

It’s a paradox really-that grieving hearts can be more anxious and more sorrowful BEFORE and AFTER a milestone day, birthday or holiday than on the day itself.

That’s not true for everyone, but it’s a frequent comment in our closed bereaved parent groups.

Fearful anticipation of how awful it MIGHT be can work me up into a frenzy.

Image result for grief anniversaries

The day of whatever it is usually passes quicker than I thought it could especially if there is a big meal involved and lots of people milling about.

Then everyone leaves and quiet darkness ushers in space and silence.

That’s the moment my heart recounts all the places Dominic should have been but wasn’t. That’s when I think of how his baritone voice was missing from the conversation, his laugh from the chorus of merry makers, his opinion from the slightly heated volley over politics or another current event.

I guess it’s kind of a holiday hangover without the booze.

But there’s no strange concoction I can drink to rid me of these symptoms.

Instead I have to give my heart permission to take out each feeling and FEEL it. I have to acknowledge that even when I spend the day laughing and enjoying family and friends, I still miss Dominic.

So I try to build a day (or two!) of recovery into my holiday planning.

And that’s OK.

Whenever possible that’s exactly what I do.

So you won’t find me rushing out to shop the day after Thanksgiving, Christmas or any of our own family’s unique grief anniversaries.

Instead I’ll wake slowly, drink coffee and watch the sunrise.

I might take a walk, read a book or write in my journal.

I will definitely find moments of solitude to acknowledge that once again I have survived what I thought I might not.

And for that, I’m grateful.

Repost: How Can I Survive Grief Anniversaries?

There are more than you might think.  

Most folks would count the date of death and maybe the date of burial or memorial service.

But a mama’s heart counts it ALL.

Read the rest here:  How Can I Survive Grief Anniversaries?

Springtime Preview: Countdown to April

We’ve had an unusually warm winter this year.  

Not at all like the winter in 2014 which was punctuated by several deep freeze days and one giant “Snowmeggedon” that resulted in hundreds of people trapped in cars, at work or in schools.  

But there are other things that strike a chord in my heart and make me feel like I’m reliving that January through April. 

Lots of rain-both here and at my parents’ place in Florida.  A few days before Dominic left us, I sent him a photo of his younger brother nearly knee deep in creek water that had spilled from the banks into a nearby field.  He couldn’t believe it!  I still have the texts.

julian and creek in 2014

 

As for my parents’ home-well the rain has already filled the ponds which have risen across some spots in the dirt road that connects them to everywhere.  In 2014, the water got so high they were forced to evacuate for months as travel became nearly impossible except for lifted trucks or tractors.  It probably won’t reach that state again since dirt has been added to the road bed but it’s coming awful close and that taps memories and feelings in ways it’s hard to explain.

The year Dominic left us was going to be a year full of celebrations, culminations and hearty parties.  Julian was graduating with a Business Management degree, James Michael was wrapping up Veterinary School, Dominic would have survived the first two years of Law School with relatively easy classes left, Fiona was advancing in her Masters of Public Health Degree and James Michael and Lillie were getting married.

We thought all we’d need to “survive” that year was a cold winter and wet spring.  

We were wrong. 

This year is another year of celebration:  Fiona is marrying Brandon.  James Michael is coming home from deployment and will welcome, along with Lillie, his first child.  My husband will retire.

And all the preparation, along with the rain, is making me anxious.  

I wish it didn’t.  

Something about the timing, the temperature, the smell of green grass growing and leaves unfurling just overwhelms my heart.  

I’m so much better at planning now than I was just a year ago.  I can think more clearly, work more consistently, stay on track and make progress much better than those first years after Dominic ran ahead.

I have notebooks stacked on my table, decorations stacked in the room that used to be Dom’s.  Plastic bins full of tidbits we’ll use for the wedding and bridal showers.  My dress is sleeved in plastic and hung on the door for safe keeping.

I’m as ready as I can be.  

But once you’ve made big plans and had them shattered in an instant, once you’ve looked far forward to exciting times and had dancing turned to mourning, once you’ve done all the right things to make everything right and it’s gone all wrong-well, you just can’t shake the feeling that it might happen again.

I’m working hard to throw off the mantle of hesitation and anxiety that threatens to weigh me down.

I’m doing everything I can to remind my heart that this is an entirely different year, these are completely different celebrations.

Some days I am really good at it.  

Others, not so much.  

But I AM looking forward to all the beautiful things on my calendar.  

New marriage.  New life.  Bigger family circle.  

Spring is the year’s promise.   

I’m hanging on to that.  ❤

no winter lasts foreer and no spring skips its turn