When you go through a tragedy, there’s a steep learning curve. Like life goes on, even after the worst thing imaginable has happened. A person disappears and everyone gets up the next day and goes to work, or whatever and you do, too, even if its your husband who died. When you think about it, it seems nuts. Why can’t everything stop while you catch up to the new reality?
The last few weeks for me have been about putting things behind me, straightening things up, streamlining, downsizing, moving forward. Its what you have to do when everything changes. There’s a lot of pain involved, and a lot of realizations about your former life, the good things and the bad things. As I spend my days organizing and divesting my mind is wandering over my life with George and especially his last days. I find myself hoping I handled things correctly. Did I talk to him enough? He was in a coma. Could he hear? Did I talk too much? Say the wrong things? Did he feel trapped by his inability to respond? His pulse would race when I spoke to him. Why? I’ll never know, and I’m learning to live with that.
Moving on in life stimulates reflection. It just does. Some days I can stuff it down, and other days, like today, I feel fueled with some kind of power. I am driven to get going, get gone, get out. I’ve spent some days laying around wishing I could go back, but now I just want to get on with things so I’m plowing through and its not easy on Lily, Sara and Shirley. They’re in shock too, and all the change is hard to face.
The farther I move forward into our move, the more I see how leaving here is going to pain Lily. This is the only place she knew with her father, and she naturally wants to stay. To her, this house is George. She’s digging in her heels and I don’t blame her. I’ve been casting around for ways to help her think about George, and ways for her to feel she’s taking him with her. Not sure how well my ideas are going over.
Looking for a giant shadowbox...
Today I suggested we make a shadowbox about George. I went to get the box I had purchased at Michael’s, which was 8 x 10 inches. She took off upstairs and returned with a frisbee, plastic bugs, trading cards, a model airplane, two 5 inch characters from Monster’s Incorporated, Sponge Bob and some rocks. Big rocks. So we really need a really big shadowbox. Gotta get back over to Michael’s. Meanwhile she has a bucket to hold her memory stuff for the shadowbox in, and before bed I saw her put a baseball in it. Maybe I need a curio cabinet.
Its funny how this experince of losing George has unfolded. Each day I think, “I comprehend what has happened. I’m there.” But at some point in that day I have to admit to myself that I don’t actually comprehend the loss. It is not something you can take in in a few months. It will probably take the rest of my life.
Every day that I get closer to believing he’s dead is in a way a step away from George and the feeling I had when we were married, of belonging to a special tribe of people. We had a deep connection, and that connection doesn’t dissolve in the crematorium or at the memorial, or when you get rid of his stuff, or ever, I guess. The survivors are blessed and burdened with the shadow of their happiness, and they just have to carry on. The world keeps turning, and who would ask it to stop?
So speaking from where I am, nearly five months into the grieving process, I’m realizing that I’m just beginning a long, long journey. My will is not going to change the nature of the grieving process, I’m sorry to report. Before this happened to us, I was blissfully unaware of what grieving people experienced. I thought I understood, but I never took into account the helplessness of it. It rolls over you, and there’s nothing you, or anyone else, can do to stop it.
Everyone takes these same steps at some time during their life, and I feel a kinship to all the people who tell me about their lost loved ones. Father, mother, spouse, child, pet, home. Whatever you’ve lost that was important to you, I understand your pain. I’m part of the tribe. Its not the tribe I used to belong to, but it is a deep new connection that I’ve made, and I’ll cherish it always.
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{ 8 comments… read them below or add one }
if you think about it, you have come sooo far, even on days when things seem to stand still. you’ve learned to roll with the punches, make lemon pie with all the lemons, and sweeten all the sadness with your memories.
not an easy road you have passed over, and hopefully it will straighten out and smooth out soon, but if not, you have more tools today than yesterday to get through the rough spots.
hugs
how about getting lily involved in decorating the soon-to-be-built new house with a shadow box in each room? she could paint the boxes and assemble them while y’all are waiting to move in– that way she’d have room for more memorabilia and might feel a little more invested in your new home…the rocks could line the sidewalk of the new place….just a thought. hugs, b
You have come so far, Lisa. You are strong and like Joy said rolling with the punches. You were knocked down by crisis, sadness, loss and misery. Everyday whether you realize it or not you are taking giant steps in the process of moving forward. Of course it is not something you may want to do. You just know it is what you have to do.
The showdow box is a great idea. What about taking videos of your home here, maybe her favorite spots, school etc. It can be something she always has to remember the life she had here. Just a thought.
Did I talk to him enough? He was in a coma. Could he hear? Did I talk too much? Say the wrong things? Did he feel trapped by his inability to respond? His pulse would race when I spoke to him. Why? I’ll never know, and I’m learning to live with that.
Lisa, having spent 10 days in an Rx induced coma, I assure you George heard you–his racing heart beat is proof.
There is no right or wrong in these situations–all we can do is all we can do.
Keep on CHUNKING IT OUT, sweetheart.
You have to go through this to get to the other side, but you WILL get there.
Promise.
w/ LOVE,
Margaret
Dear Lisa and Lily,
Once again you amaze me. I believe George did here you and I believe he still does. The shadow box idea is great and I agree with Betsy. Have Lily make one for every room. When my sister in law passed away from cancer. I made a poster board size memory of her life. I put pictures of all the family in it and her growing up, etc. I had it at the memorial service and I still have it to save for Kristi. Every now and then we pull it out and look at happier times. Her birthday would of been tomorrow and its been 6 1/2 years since she died. So I quess what I’m trying to say is it gets easier but still have those hard days. You have come along way in this short time with so much to overcome. My heart goes out to you both. Until we join our loved ones again we must consider this our temporary home. {{BIG HUGS}} to you both.
Becky
Hi Lisa,
I feel for you… I really do and like I’ve said before, I don’t know what it feels like to lose a husband but I lost my Dad at 16, lost my Grandpa soon after and my Grandma who was like my mother a few years after that.
Something that helps me is my aunt took pictures of my Grandparents home… every single wall in every single room. If I had it my way I’d have them all in simple black picture frames on one whole wall in my house but for now they are in an album. I pull it out and can almost feel like I’m in their house… a house I was in nearly every single day of my life until my aunt’s cleaned it out and sold it… too soon if you ask me. But I have the pictures and the memories.
And thinking of those pictures I remembered that when Ezrah was just a year old we moved from our first home in Dallas, TX to OK. Her nursery was so beautiful… I loved it and knew we wouldn’t have it set up like that where we were moving to. I put on my favorite lullabye cd, Gaither’s Lullabye cd and video’d her whole nursery… every toy on every shelf, the sonogram pics, the inside of her closet, the pictures on the wall and all the little keepsakes I kept in her curio cabinet. After videoing her nursery with the music still going I went through each room in our little home. We have had that transferred to DVD along with all of our older VHS and newer Hi-8 tapes. A friend of mine transferred them for me and Ezrah watches them more than she watches her Disney movies.
I know that I’m 37 now and sometimes miss my Dad and Grandma so badly I just feel like I can’t handle the pain… it passes for a while. And it’s true it gets easier but….
You’re doing a beautiful job with Lily and the shadow box… I agree one in every room would be special for her. Little things like the baseball or even a rock can help you remember and makes it easier. You’re still in my prayers.. I think of you often…
You’re very brave and a beautiful tribute of photos…
I am sue ann weaver sparks and I am sure you know nothing of me; however, I knew George thru school and we quickly lost contact after graduation.. Yes, loss is difficult and how we handle and deal it is with the faith and love we know and have known. He always loved music and was a clown and no matter how he felt could make others always smile. From your clips he never changed and always had that special sparkle in his eyes.. I realize it is very difficult for you to have the change in routine and trying to make sense of these confusing times. As for you, and George’s daughter.. Try something like let’s go see where Dad grew up and learned about things he liked and walk with him there for awhile. Truth be told Asheville is a lot like Reading, Pa. My Mother was from Johnstown, PA. Lilly’s father had such fun here but always spoke of making it big in music. I am very glad that he had the time with the loves of his life and yes, please rest assured he knew you were there and you were concerned and he heard you speak to him… people know.. i can give you two cases now but this is your time.. I only wished I’d known you wanted back here for my husband is a contractor and he builds houses and could give you and given you all you needed without you traveling here..
My best to you and your family as you try to continue on with your lives yet, know George is with you all and always will be smiling down on you. Blessing to you all..
Regards, Hugs and much love and feelings for you,
sueann weaver sparks
I am in and out of Asheville all the time for I tend to my parents…
their address is 350 chunns cove rd
asheville
our address is 1574 bear creek rd, bakersville
my cell is 828-777-2539.. if you should ever feel the need to chat..
look for me on facebook under sueann sparks, or e-mail weaver7898@att.net
(sorry, I play a lot of games while sitting with Mom at this time…)