Back to Reality

I just feel drained right now.  I’m on my way back home after visiting my Dad in the hospital in Alabama.  The weekend after my husband died, my Dad was diagnosed with prostate cancer that had metastasized onto his spine.  I knew that I had to go see him.  My greatest regret is that when my husband was intubated, I didn’t know it would be the last time I would talk with him.  So when my Dad was in the hospital, I knew I had to get out to see him.  I didn’t realize how traumatic going back into the hospital would be for me.   Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome kicked in.  Luckily my brother and best friend made the trip with me & were there for me to sob all over.   

My Dad will be fine - or as fine as you can be after having radiation and surgery.  The oncologist said he has another 5 to 10 years left.  Since he’s 80, that sounds like a long time to me.  

So now I’m heading home, back to reality.  And although I wasn’t avoiding my grief, my focus was on being there for my Dad and the grief took a back seat.  As I get closer to home, I feel the sorrow descending again.  It’s a complex mix of knowing he won’t be there; he’ll never be there again.  I’m responsible for myself competely now.  I’m responsible for dealing with all of his stuff.  I didn’t realize until he died how much I depended on him, how much we shared the responsibilities.  It’s stupid shit; taking out the trash, dealing with the vehicles and registration; that make me aware of how gone he is.   

So here I sit at the Denver Airport.  My flight is delayed.  Just because I’m not already tired enough.... 

The Shame of Guilt, Regret & Remorse

I’ve discovered the most shameful feelings to have during mourning; guilt, remorse and regret.  These days many people know that it is natural to feel angry at the person that died.  But these same people stop me dead in my tracks when I start to talk about my regrets, my remorse, my guilt - over things I did and didn’t do.  I know they’re wanting to protect me, but I feel like I can’t talk about it.  It’s anger at myself - missed opportunities, missed warning signs.  Wondering what I could have done different.  And intellectually I know I did the best I could, I’m only human, I’m not in control, blah, blah, blah, but at the same time I replay the past several years.  

It’s a long story, but the short version is that the underlying cause of my husband’s death seems to have been diabetes, which weakens the immune system.  Over the past several years he had become more irritable and our marriage was about to end because we just couldn’t seem to move forward and just kept hurting each other emotionally.  I loved him & he loved me, but we were stuck.  As I learn more, I realize that he was being beat up internally by the diabetes.  It never occurred to me that the problems could have a physical cause.  So I’m angry at everyone - him, the doctors, myself,  that it progressed to the stage where he got sick and his body gave up.  

I know I can’t change the past, but I just keep replaying it.  All of the places where maybe a different choice could have been made - where he’d still be alive today.  And I guess that just like all the other “stages” of grief, I just need to ride these feelings too.  I’ll find the people that will let me talk it out, that won’t try to stop me from feeling the way I do, and eventually I’ll be able to release them.

He's Dead - Reality Sucks

I’ve been think about a blog for awhile, just to have somewhere to post random thoughts too deep for Facebook.  But now I feel compelled.  My husband died 12 days ago after a brief & sudden illness.  The past month has been the roller coaster from hell.  Today I started to emerge from the shock and reality struck me hard this morning.  Since he died, I’ve kept feeling like this was some horrible dream that I would wake up from.  Then I’d realize it was real and be wracked by grief and pain.  This morning I dreamed he was still alive.  When I woke up it hit me hard,  the dream was him being alive and reality is that he is dead.  Reality sucks.  I’m just beginning to fathom the inner devastation of his death.  I know this will be a long process.  I know others have survived.  I’m compulsively reading everything I can about loss, grief, mourning.  All the knowledge does not mitigate the pain.  The Blood Eagle has been performed on my psyche, my heart. (“The Blood Eagle was a method of torture and execution that is sometimes mentioned in Nordic saga legends. It was performed by cutting the ribs of the victim by the spine, breaking the ribs so they resembled blood-stained wings, and pulling the lungs out through the wounds in the victim's back. Salt was sprinkled in the wounds.” Wkipedia - http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Blood_eagle)  Gruesome I know, but it’s how I feel. So I guess this will be my grief journal.