On Monday, YaYa had his counseling (intake) appointment at the local hospice. His visit allows him to attend the support groups. YaYa’s appointment was different from BoBo and mine. He got to do an art project.
He was given a mask with instructions on how to paint it. Put the emotions that you show the world on the outside and those that you keep private on the inside. YaYa didn’t quite understand what she was explaining. He had his own idea. He painted his Dad.
Meanwhile, I sat there watching and wishing that I could paint one of my own. If I did, perhaps I could wear it on those days when I am just not up to the effort of trying to achieve “presentable.”
We all wear masks of sorts. I find that it helps me to do my hair and put on make up. A little blush and eye make up brightens up my face and thus brightens up my day. Using the flat iron to flatten out the frizz, as well as the bump that my ponytail holder makes, does wonders on my outlook on life. In a way, it is like the mask that I wear to hide my feelings from myself.
As for the mask that I wear for others, I did a far better job and putting up a positive front in the first couple of months after Tom’s death. I don’t know who I was trying to convince more, them or myself, that I was okay. Now a days, when it seems that everyone has forgotten that I am grieving (or assumes that I should be over it), I wear my sadness right out in the open.
But it is no use. No matter what mask I wear, the expectations to come to work everyday, work hard to contribute to the corporate goals, and thus earn the right to retain my job remains. I find that I have to bring my laptop home with me to complete the work when it is expected. This is not because I am lagging behind; it is because the timelines are impossible.
Hum? Do you think that they can see through my mask? Perhaps an invisibility cloak would be better.
I have a hard time reading some of these posts. It’s so hard to read them and not imagine myself in the same situation, and I know I could not live with as much grace and dignity as you do.
I don’t know that there’s anything I can say that would help and that’s not a cliche.
So I’ll just say keep on truckin’.
I like the idea of a mask, and a hat, wig and huge sunglasses. Actually, no the invisibility cloak would do much better…that way we could just blend in.
I was given the link to your blog by a good friend of mine, Lisa a/k/a Javamom, yesterday. I recently have suffered a loss, only mine was not a husband, but a child. Reading back through your archives yesterday and today it is almost scary how similar the timelines are. My son passed away 9 days after your husband and, even more unnerving, his birthday was 9 days before your husband’s.
Each day I am amazed by how much guidance we are given if we are able to hear it.
I am so sorry for your loss and that of your boys, as well. No person should have to experience all the feelings that go along with grief.
“or assumes that I should be over it” Argh! I hate that expression. There is no ‘getting over it’. There is getting through it (which you are doing, step by step) and there is having it take up a new place in your life that is less obtrusive, less crushing, less sad. That comes later.
Masks are good – they give us privacy.
As for work – sounds like the typical fallout of a company that has been and will continue to be downsized. You just have to stake out your personal territory and not let the job eat you up. Much easier said than done.
Next time paint a mask with your son, I am sure they won’t mind and if they do, who cares? And grieving takes a LONG time but you don’t know that until you’ve been initated into the club.
I love that post. So true about our masks..so true!
You have just been through a life altering experience in the loss of your husband. Despite what some think-there is no getting over it. You adjust and adapt then come to peace withit. But it will always be a part of you.
Jules-
Good to see the kids running around today. You all are doing your best to take life one day at a time and should be proud of yourself.
Violet
Jules,
So that food that YaYa was asking was me the Kabobs. I couldn’t make out the word ‘kabob’ when he was asking me ‘Where do you get kabobs?’ I responded ‘I don’t know what you are talking about.’ He was probably thinking- ok not probably- he was thinking I was nuts since I was holding the plate of kabobs. Tell him I get it- Kabobs-! Whenever I see YaYa- I do see much emotions in him and I just want to give him a big hug.
Just to let you know, I miss him too. Nobody else I know had the experience, understanding and wisdom and ability to listen, talk and counsel that he had. I really miss him. I feel for you.