Through all the tears I’ve shed
I’ve found clarity
Like rain washing away fog
Even though it hurts
I’m grateful.
Even though my heart is aching
I’m grateful.
Grateful to have had her
In my life.
My arms long to hold her again
Because she was such
A wonderful mother
And provided me with
Such warming love.
And even though it
Will never be enough
I’m grateful to know
That she will always be
With me.
Hi all,
Sorry I’ve been quiet for a few days now. I was doing fine. Getting the house ready for Christmas and thinking I was dealing with my grief pretty well. And then wham! I got caught in a massive riptide of grief that dragged me off my feet, and I’ve been trying to find my footing again ever since. I had heard that the first Christmas after a significant loss is hard. Hard is the most useless word to describe it. For me, it has been utterly debilitating to the point that I can’t do anything much except cry. The pain I’ve felt the past two days has been spiritually excruciating. I miss my mom more now than at any other time during this grief “process.” Yesterday I thought I’d try to make myself feel better by putting the lights on my little tree. After finishing, I was looking at it thinking how cold and harsh the lights looked this year. There was no soft twinkling glow at all. There was no anticipation of the upcoming holiday that I had been looking for. I felt even more miserable and also thought about taking the lights down again and putting the tree away. I’ve contemplated not having Christmas at all this year because the pain is just so intense. I’m not seeing the world as it is right now and I know it. I’ve heard of rose-colored glasses; I wonder what color grief colored glasses are. I’m thinking a swampy greenish-brown color. I feel like I’m just treading water until the day that I’m dreading arrives and departs as it does every year, just surviving instead of living. I don’t know how to change my mentality but I know I want to. I hate feeling this way. My mom wouldn’t want me to feel this way. But if I try to swim against the grief, I know it will just drag me out of my life even further, and I’ll drown. So I’ll just keep treading and try to move forward towards Christmas and hope I find a way to get through it without her.
The closer Christmas approaches
The more I feel you near.
Memories won’t stop unfolding
And it’s leaving me in tears.
You’re ghosting all the corners
Of every single room
Tis the season of light and merriment
And I’m deep in grief and gloom
I’m hearing snatches of your voice
As if your still here with me
I see the brightness of your love
in the lights on the Christmas tree
I don’t know how to do this
The holidays without you
How do I heal this ache in my soul
And figure out what to do.
This poem doesn’t want to be finished. I’ve been trying for several days now, and this is where it wants to end. Maybe once I get through this challenging time I’ll be able to look back and come up with an ending, I don’t know.
This week has been difficult for me, regarding my grief process. My mom loved certain television shows and one in particular, “The Good Doctor” had become one of her favorites. I have been a fan of Freddie Highmore for years, my mom became a fan when we watched “Bates Motel.” This week was the second season premiere of “The Good Doctor,” and I knew it would be hard to watch, but once again I underestimated the power of grief. About halfway through the episode, I turned to ask my mom what she thought and froze. The room felt so empty, and I felt so alone in that instant that I started to cry, and then I just couldn’t stop. I tapped into the primal side of grief and just sobbed and wailed and begged whoever could hear me to allow my mom to come back again. Afterward, when I was a gasping blob on the sofa, I felt more drained than I ever have before. It wasn’t just the television show that brought this on, last weekend was the 4-month mark since my mom passed. Having it be one-third of a year since she died felt like a substantial milestone. Now I am looking forward, with dread, to the upcoming months which will have her birthday, the first holiday season since she passed, and my birthday in January. I wish I could just crawl under the covers in November and not come out until next February. I honestly don’t know how I’m going to get through it, it’s going to be the hardest time of my life. There are a lot of dark days ahead, but at the same time I know I’m going to get through it because even though my mom isn’t with me in person anymore, I know she’s still around. She’s still with me, watching over me, and that helps.
I don’t know if apathy is a stage of grief but it has filled me to the brim today. I haven’t wanted to do anything at all. I’ve sat on the couch most of the day passively watching whatever has been on the television. My brain has felt like it’s been on standby mode just running on low gear. I have nothing I have to do. Nowhere, I have to be. And most importantly, no one to take care of. This feeling of emptiness is just consuming my body and soul. I know I should go out and be with people and get out of the house and not close myself off but I just don’t have any energy whatsoever to do those things. There is so much advice out there on how to deal with grief and how important it is to let the process evolve naturally. But I don’t want this apathy to become a lifestyle. If I’m honest with myself I have been finding myself reverting back to apathy more and more. I don’t want to feel the grief. I don’t want to feel the pain of losing my mom. And when I’m just in low gear, I don’t feel anything and my brain won’t allow myself to go anywhere near that pain that still simmers below the surface. I’ve tapped into that pain a few times and it is unbearable. Uncontrolled sobbing and a heaviness in my chest that makes it nearly impossible to draw in full breaths. Can you blame me for wanting to hide from it? I feel like a frayed wire and if I get to close to it I get a painful shock that makes my heart and soul jump. Do they make electrical tape for the soul? Just wrap it around the exposed bits and get on with my life and hope it’s strong enough to hold back the electrical aspects of grief. It might sound stupid but I wish grief came in a vending machine and I could put my money in and get a little bit when I wanted to deal with it. But that’s not how it is. It has been coming at times I’ve expected and at the oddest times as well. I suppose this will continue for the foreseeable future. I just have to learn how to take its hand and walk with it instead of running away from it. Maybe then the healing will begin in earnest.
Slowly spinning in a small boat
In the middle of the ocean
Rudderless, without a sail,
Without any compass bearing
To follow.
She was my direction in life.
With her, I knew where
My path led.
Now I feel purposeless
And adrift on an endless
Flat calm sea.
I feel hollow.
The foundation of my life is gone.
Unstable ground is what I
Tremble on.
Unsure of who I am.
Unsure of where to go.
Unsure of everything.
I try to move forward,
But my gait is unsteady
And I fear falling
With no one here to catch me
Before I hit the ground.
At some point forward movement
Will become necessary.
I know it is what she
Would want for me.
But for now, I sit trying to
Fill this aching emptiness
With memories of happier times
With my mother.
“…the moments when you’re in so deep it feels easier to just swim down.”
-It’s Quiet Uptown from “Hamilton: An American Musical”
It’s been two weeks since my mom passed away and for the first time today I felt like giving into the grief and depression that’s been burbling under the surface of my consciousness. It was so strange, in the quiet moments, I almost felt like something kept brushing against my feet threatening to grab my ankles and pull me under. It must sound insane and that’s how it felt. I have been treading water since my mom left us just waiting to drown in the grief I thought I’d feel. But it hasn’t happened yet and I’m puzzled by that. And yet, I can’t stop fighting the urge to sink. My arms won’t stop paddling to keep my head up. Why am I so afraid to really let myself feel my mom’s loss? That’s what I find myself asking myself. And yet I know the answer. I’m afraid if I let myself feel it I’ll get lost in it. I’ll lose myself in the power of it all. Then I have to remind myself that it has only been two weeks and I have the rest of my life to grieve. I don’t have to feel it all at once. I will grieve in my own time and my own space.