From a moment of reflection of 2012 today...
Today I looked at one of those "losses of 2012" articles that I've been avoiding. I was surprised at a few "losses" that had passed that I hadn't been aware of. But, all the while I was thinking of some dear friends and loved ones, as I looked for familiar names of those we haven't "lost" but of those that have left us this year... my precious daddy, Bob's dad, Erin's mom and dad, Dave's mom, Norman's dad, our friend Fred, sweet Leonard, Magna's mom, Malinda's husband, Lisa's daughter, Deb's dad, Judy's mom, Phyllis' dad, Curtis' mom and dad, Laurie's aunt and Bodie, Sherry's husband and Ida's dad. I thought of each one. With the newspaper and article still in my hands, my heart was heavy with a handful of heartaches as I began watching my mom's recorded "last" Christmas Eve service from the Crystal Cathedral. After seeing the familiar sites and beautiful sounds of Christmas music that brings back cherished memories of Christmas over the last 30 plus years (and at the same time a dark sense of another loss of something and somewhere familiar like home), I listened to Robbie Schuller talk about the Season of Advent. He took a completely new twist as he talked about how Advent is a season of darkness and waiting, and at the end of Advent - Christ comes... as light in the darkness and the answer to our waiting. In Robbie's comparison of a time of darkness, of grief and loss to Advent, I heard a completely new lesson of Advent that I have never heard before. Who talks about darkness, loss and grief in comparison with Advent - and Christmas? But it's true! With grief we DO go through a season of "Advent"... but in that season of darkness, wandering, wondering, waiting - Christ does come and brings us healing, light and hope. Christmas Day does eventually arrive giving us hope as we journey in those dark times in our lives that we all will journey through. JOURNEY through - not the destination... JOURNEY THROUGH. It IS a journey!! A journey is literally where we travel through and do not stay or remain... it is not the destination.
This journey has had changing scenery along the way that I never would have expected. Changes of relationships with friends, unexpected choices of extended family members, unexpected responses from both friends and extended family members, accomplishments, comfort in the familiar, comfort in the unexpected, disappointments in the unexpected, disapointments of the familiar, learning new or updated meanings of words like abandonment, courage, faith, protection, sabotage, expectations, anxiety, comparison, sympathy, cherish, release, let go, embrace, survive, silence and presence.
Nearly a month ago I stumbled upon a ministry and website called GriefShare.org. I signed up for the daily devotional emails and have to say that as I have looked forward to reading the email delivery every evening, I have repeatedly said "that's how I feel". If you're stumbling through the journey of grief, too, no matter where you're at in the journey, I encourage you to click on www.griefshare.org to receive daily encouragement, too.
I see the look in many caring people's eyes that they want to ask but haven't known how to... "how are you?" The "season" was really really hard to get through. I took it in VERY small steps and worked VERY hard not to run away from Christmas or to avoid it. I found quiet corners and bathrooms in public places to have my teary "melt downs" as the sound of happy Christmas Carols bellowed through sound systems everywhere you go, the twinkling of Christmas lights, and suggestions of what to buy for Dad for Christmas seemed to be in my face at every turn. Christmas carols singing of "Sing all ye citizens of Heav'n above" choked me up every time. Determined to enjoy Christmas, I made concious choices to FIND the joy instead of being reminded of my sorrow! I called upon the words of other Christmas Carols to echo through my mind "God rest ye merry gentlemen, let nothing you dismay. Remember Christ our Savior was born on Christmas Day. To save us all from Satan's pow'r when we had gone astray. Oh Tidings of Comfort and Joy, Comfort and Joy. Oh Tidings of COMFORT AND JOY..." At home, and where I could control, I listened to instrumental Christmas music WITHOUT lyrics, I decorated the tree and house simply without all of the usual familiar decorations. For another Blog... I used representatives of nature that God has strategically brought me comfort and healing with throughout the year since April 18th - butterflies. A beautiful little collection of butterflies are on our Christmas tree, and tucked into special places around the house have brought comfort from a new-normal and new-familiar. Ultimately, Christmas Day did come! I found the season and build up of the day to be much harder to cope with than the actual day. Last Christmas Day (2011) was SO much worse! It was obviously going to be our "last" Christmas with my dad... and he wasn't at home with us, we went to visit him at "that" place, and he wasn't aware that it was Christmas. It was a cruel day reminding us that we actually had the "last" Christmas as we knew it to be the previous year (2010). Lewy Body Dementia (LBD or Lewy) was vicious with all of us, our hearts, and our emotions! I remember sobbing in my mom's arms last year. At the end of the day just a few days ago, on Christmas Day, I actually sensed a feeling of "relief" for the first time in this most unpredictable journey of Lewy and grief.
Another new chapter begins very soon. Another New Year's Eve. Another New Year. New emotional and relationship surroundings to accept. New stages of life to accept. Familiar health choices to recommit to. Unfamiliar landscapes to brave. Basics to embrace. Bravery to embrace, and bravery to let go.
Christmas Day did come! On my own densely dark journey through grief, as dark as it has been - I have not feared the dark because even though I could not always see the hands that held my hands or seen the footprints in the sand that carried me... I knew that I was being carried. I am still on the journey, and have a long way to go but I am grateful for the support and patience of my Lord, my family and the loves in my life.
Christmas Day Love!
Sunday, December 30, 2012
Saturday, July 14, 2012
My first entry... "Today"
I've been encouraged for some time that I should write more. More recently I've been encouraged to journal. I hate to journal. It feels like all I do is ramble and that I really don't have any thoughts of value to hang onto and read later. However, to try to give some value to this uncomfortable, unwanted, unwelcome time of my life. I will attempt to journal. My fear of recording and sharing my own raw unedited feelings & thoughts is not pleasant. I'm told it brings value to others.
I'm not going to go backwards... the story will just have to be revealed & told as I go along.
For today - I came to the realization that my discomfort and difficulty of accepting what has happened & the truth of what is happening is that my world was a much safer place with him here. From a clogged sink being fixed or an appliance repaired to giving me unconditional love & acceptance - I felt safer, more secure with him here.
When anyone and everyone else in my world may have disappointed me, let me down, betrayed or abandoned me - there was never a doubt that THEY were there. He is an equal equation of THEY. When I didn't measure up, felt like I was failing, let someone down, was afraid, didn't think I could do it, wasn't smart enough or lacked courage or self confidence - there was never a doubt that THEY told me that I could and that I am smart enough and good enough. He is an equal equation of THEY.
THEY will always be THEY. THEY will always be "my parents", THEY will always be "Mom and Dad's".
How do I do this? My sense of security feels threatened. I'm having a Homeland Security Red Level Safety Alert. How did this happen? This can't be happening. I refuse to allow myself to be a victim of his disease that I have not been diagnosed with. I can't curl up, lay down and die emotionally and mentally... right along with him. But it feels like a critical, core piece of me is gone... it went with him that night.
I've been told that I needed to be there completely present for those 25 hours. I needed to see, watch, observe and stare into what has to be the most unbelievable, most powerless, most surreal moments and hours of my life. It had to be that brutally cruel for me to acknowledge that yes, this really did happen. He really is gone. I love him too much to ask him to stay and experience one more moment of 'that' just to be here with me. I can't ask him to stay for one more minute with me. I can't beg him or God to let him stay.
I didn't watch him go through this as my grandparents left us. He was brave. He didn't seem sad. I remember how he seemed to be genuinely at peace about it. I feel like it should have been that way for me but I'm clearly not as brave as he was. I'm being coached not to compare my journey through grief with anyone else and yet he's my measuring stick and I'm not measuring up too well.
It has been nearly 90 days since April 18th, and yet it feels like the clock and the world should have stopped at 7:40pm, April 18, 2012. I can't stop anything from marching on... the world doesn't stop, wait or pause.
Time is supposed to be my friend. My healing is supposed to come with time. I'm not doing "this" very gracefully. The struggle is claustrophobic at times. There is absolutely nothing I can do to escape it or change it. I am so powerless and my only option is acceptance... and that sucks! Just the same as time that is my alleged friend but feels more like an enemy, acceptance is also suppose to be my friend. It's where I will find freedom and liberty but it also feels like defeat... because I have to become willing to be stripped to the barest, rawest essence of powerlessness to arrive at genuine acceptance. I will likely find gratitude and contentment when I arrive there. Two more "friends" that currently feel like they are also a galaxy away.
Today my daddy's "tool chest" was delivered to my house. I have wanted his "tool chest" for my own since I was a teenager. I claimed it and informed him "someday you're going to have to empty out all that junk because I'm going to take that to my own house." He thought I was crazy to want that old beat up, weathered, smelly piece of junk. It may now be my most precious & valued possession. I spent time with this beautiful piece of furniture this evening. I touched everything, sanded some of the rough stuff and wiped off the first of many layers of dust & dirt. I opened every drawer and cupboard door, I smelled it. I sat with it, I talked to it and cried. I wanted him to see it here, I wish he could have. I wanted him to know that after all these years I finally brought it home.
I'm not going to go backwards... the story will just have to be revealed & told as I go along.
For today - I came to the realization that my discomfort and difficulty of accepting what has happened & the truth of what is happening is that my world was a much safer place with him here. From a clogged sink being fixed or an appliance repaired to giving me unconditional love & acceptance - I felt safer, more secure with him here.
When anyone and everyone else in my world may have disappointed me, let me down, betrayed or abandoned me - there was never a doubt that THEY were there. He is an equal equation of THEY. When I didn't measure up, felt like I was failing, let someone down, was afraid, didn't think I could do it, wasn't smart enough or lacked courage or self confidence - there was never a doubt that THEY told me that I could and that I am smart enough and good enough. He is an equal equation of THEY.
THEY will always be THEY. THEY will always be "my parents", THEY will always be "Mom and Dad's".
How do I do this? My sense of security feels threatened. I'm having a Homeland Security Red Level Safety Alert. How did this happen? This can't be happening. I refuse to allow myself to be a victim of his disease that I have not been diagnosed with. I can't curl up, lay down and die emotionally and mentally... right along with him. But it feels like a critical, core piece of me is gone... it went with him that night.
I've been told that I needed to be there completely present for those 25 hours. I needed to see, watch, observe and stare into what has to be the most unbelievable, most powerless, most surreal moments and hours of my life. It had to be that brutally cruel for me to acknowledge that yes, this really did happen. He really is gone. I love him too much to ask him to stay and experience one more moment of 'that' just to be here with me. I can't ask him to stay for one more minute with me. I can't beg him or God to let him stay.
I didn't watch him go through this as my grandparents left us. He was brave. He didn't seem sad. I remember how he seemed to be genuinely at peace about it. I feel like it should have been that way for me but I'm clearly not as brave as he was. I'm being coached not to compare my journey through grief with anyone else and yet he's my measuring stick and I'm not measuring up too well.
It has been nearly 90 days since April 18th, and yet it feels like the clock and the world should have stopped at 7:40pm, April 18, 2012. I can't stop anything from marching on... the world doesn't stop, wait or pause.
Time is supposed to be my friend. My healing is supposed to come with time. I'm not doing "this" very gracefully. The struggle is claustrophobic at times. There is absolutely nothing I can do to escape it or change it. I am so powerless and my only option is acceptance... and that sucks! Just the same as time that is my alleged friend but feels more like an enemy, acceptance is also suppose to be my friend. It's where I will find freedom and liberty but it also feels like defeat... because I have to become willing to be stripped to the barest, rawest essence of powerlessness to arrive at genuine acceptance. I will likely find gratitude and contentment when I arrive there. Two more "friends" that currently feel like they are also a galaxy away.
Today my daddy's "tool chest" was delivered to my house. I have wanted his "tool chest" for my own since I was a teenager. I claimed it and informed him "someday you're going to have to empty out all that junk because I'm going to take that to my own house." He thought I was crazy to want that old beat up, weathered, smelly piece of junk. It may now be my most precious & valued possession. I spent time with this beautiful piece of furniture this evening. I touched everything, sanded some of the rough stuff and wiped off the first of many layers of dust & dirt. I opened every drawer and cupboard door, I smelled it. I sat with it, I talked to it and cried. I wanted him to see it here, I wish he could have. I wanted him to know that after all these years I finally brought it home.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)