24 days...silently suffocating

"In my dream I got you on the phone and it was all a big misunderstanding. It was hard to hear you and we couldn’t seem to converse well. You were just with a new friend somewhere; I put it on speaker so others would know you were alive. That it was all a mistake. That you would be coming home. But then, I woke up suddenly and opened my eyes. As hard as I tried, I could not fall back asleep and find you. My mind instantly remembered the reality of your death and my sorrow started all over again, for another day. It has been a touch over three weeks now and I relive forgetting you are really gone and remembering the reality so many times, every single day, it’s like death by a thousand cuts, it’s torture. I miss and love you so much my sweet husband. ❤️💔😔"

This was written a few years ago after my husband had been dead for three weeks. As I continue to post The Grief Chronicles (Thursdays) as part of the Flight of the Phoenix Diary, I am reliving my own touch with personal grief as well as, hopefully, helping you all understand you are not alone. Grief is not just death of a person or pet but also the loss of other things in your life. His unexpected death was not something that I imagined having to deal with, not yet anyway. We lived figuring we had a few more decades to go. It is not to say that our relationship was perfect or anything. By the time he died, we were pretty broken and sad. I would find myself (in hindsight) downplaying our problems when we were together externally but internally, I was screaming. More about this subject in a future post. Circumstances of elder parent care, years of unintentional neglect, work stress, money stress, you get the picture. Had we been living our lives alone like the earlier years I know we would have been far better off. But as good people, we agree to help family members because no one else would, at our own peril. There were good times with them but, far more difficult times. We had no idea.

I started out my day with deep sadness and lots of crying. I felt suffocated with grief. It truly felt like every breath was a struggle. I reached out and texted a friend. I hugged my beloved dogs. My dear friend gave me some purpose to get up this morning. She needed eggs and I needed to move off the couch, get dressed, and feed animals. I was barely functioning, barely eating, but life must go on...how? Well, one breath at a time.

The dogs and I drove the Gator around the farm taking care of the horses and chickens, the dogs ran around and played, and then we drove down the street to her house with the eggs. I decided to try to listen to music (which I have not been able to do without falling apart). I chose an old favorite album, K’naan Troubadour, and it was very enjoyable and didn’t make me cry. A good driving album. For those who don’t know, K'naan, is a Somali-Canadian rapper, singer/songwriter, poet, and musician. He is really wonderful. Go listen to him, today.

Visiting and talking with my friend, being somewhere else with someone I care about and like talking with was very nice. We don’t even necessarily talk about super important stuff but just normal life. The dogs enjoyed visiting too. This adventure off the farm but not too far away, was just what Lettuce, Obie, and I needed to get out of our funk (they too were sad this morning). 

When we arrived back at the farm, my mom was on her golf cart, and she drove to open the gate for us. I grabbed the trash and recycle cans, delivered them to the house she resides in, then back again for mine. She closed the gate for me. She never helps do anything, so this was a nice change. She usually just likes to tell me what to do and did the same to him (his name was Rick by the way, my late husband), often never asking and rarely saying thank you. 

The dogs and I played fetch for a bit and then sat on the porch with mom. I cannot talk to her at all about what happened to him or how I am feeling or coping. She says insensitive things, and I just cannot deal with her crass nature or her grief (she did love him too). So, we just talked about the deer, where she wanted to move her trash cans to for the summer, and a little conversation about the dogs (she really loves them), and she checked to see how my Red Bull stash was doing (she does like to buy groceries). we looked at the glistening pond, white gazebo, and the vast field. The dogs played and relaxed in the sunshine.

Obie, Lettuce, and I returned to our house, a cute log cabin in the woods with unfinished interior projects (the floor was never replaced, and some wiring had never been properly encased in drywall. He never got to it. But it was our haven. I was feeling calm, they were too. Fresh air does that, it is good for the soul.

I had to run back up to the woodshed for firewood (this was a job we used to share). It was in the forties, and the house was rather chilled. Otherwise, I decided some TV and/or Xbox and just relaxing for the rest of the day. There were so many projects I could be working on all over the farm, in the house, and oh my gosh, let’s not even talk about the river project that was waiting for action. I believed however, in that moment, I just needed to work on remaining calm and steady, anchoring myself to what I could control, and resting my weary mind, body, and soul. The other stuff could wait, it surely isn’t going anywhere.

I remember this day like it was yesterday despite being over three and a half years ago. The thing is, it was much better and far worse than I described at the time.

My mother acted nice that day, for a moment. What I didn't mention is that I was barely speaking to her or anyone else. I was just surviving. What I looked at daily was unfinished projects, daily chores, and a job where I was the boss and had to keep a stiff upper lip and do my work. My flare and energy for my life were different; I was permanently changed. The house was quiet, no one there to tell me what to do (which was delightful if I were to be honest). But also, what you don't know is that the remanence of the deaths of other family was also on my mind and property, everywhere. My husband not only left his stuff and messes but those of his mother and father, of my uncle and grandmother, and I believe things even from his grandparents. more responsibilities left for me to clean up. It made me increasingly angry as the months went on.

When you face death and grief you also face practical matters. Paperwork, items, ashes, decisions. You have to cook and clean and be normal, especially around other people. I tried hard to not reveal my grief and frustrations too much when in person. I did however write a lot of raw content that as shared with friends, a kind of release, I guess. But I would be caught at my desk at work crying and trying to compose myself, I found myself crying on the farm while trying to do all the things, and I found myself drinking unlike I had in the past. I didn't sleep much and hated eating. Don't worry, I caught this red flag and stopped the behavior, but it took some time.

You are also faced with engaging with people. My friend that day was easy to spend time with, but I can feel people's energy. I can tell that I made people uncomfortable in general because of what I was going through. I was not bothering anyone for help. The fact is that people don't know what to say (neither do I in their position). Words feel strange and uncomfortable. The person left behind becomes like a ghost; it is hard to explain. I (or at least for myself) internalized my existence, transforming from an extroverted, lively individual to one characterized by solitude and profound introspection.