Six weeks ago the family started attending weekly bereavement support groups. Since today’s session will be the final in the 6-week series, our group was asked to think about our grieving and how the sessions have impacted the process.
I looked back through my blog to get a sense of how far I have come. Even after looking, it is difficult to see any real changes. Sometimes others can see your progress better than you can.
Take my son for example:
In thinking about the assignment, I asked YaYa for his thoughts on attending group. His face changed to one of torment. He told me that he didn’t like it much. He said that he didn’t like talking about his Dad, and that it was easier when he just didn’t remember it. I reminded him that he *did* remember it; he had nightmares all of the time, and he was always on the verge of tears with his brother and I. He did not agree with my view.
I asked YaYa why he chose to write the story of how his Dad died if he did not want to remember. He couldn’t tell me. Instead he asked if he could put the story on his blog. So we did that last night. Thanks to those of you who have left encouraging comments for YaYa. He needs the feedback as much as I do.
As for me, I am aware of subtle changes. I can see that my clock displays the date of 17 October 2007, yet I am not feeling the impending doom of the coming of the 21st (the monthly anniversary date) as I previously did.
My sense is that I have reached the beginning of “acceptance” or, more aptly put, the awareness that Tom is not ever coming back. I don’t like it, but it is a fact. I have accepted that much.
I had a daydream during my long run this week. Yes, I actually “dream” while I run. I’ve done this ever since I was a kid. I see what is in front of me but then there is another transparent screen in front of it with the movie playing. I am aware of both at the same time.
Well, Sunday’s dream was a modification of the run I was in the process of doing. In the dream, YaYa had been talking to a man at the spot that I was still running to. This was where we had agreed that he would stop to wait for me to catch up. The man looked like Tom, and said that he was Tom. He seemed to know everything about us, but I pulled YaYa away from him and told the man that my husband was DEAD and that he (not being Tom) should leave us alone.
So you see I have reached some level of acceptance, like it or not. What I have not accepted is that this is “as good as it gets.” I know that my life is not as “sucky” as I led my dear neighbor to believe, although I thought so at the time. My life does NOT suck – not ALL of the time anyways. I want my life to be better than this though. To be honest, I wanted “better” before Tom died as well.
I know that our family has a lot of pain ahead to work through, but I am hopeful that by continuing to do work in the bereavement support groups we will eventually heal.
Juls, how bad one’s life “sucks” at any given moment is all relative. In the grand scheme of things, my life only sucks a little and only momentarily, even when it feels worse than that. The amount of suckiness depends on what it is you’re going through and how big it is. Some of us whine that our lives suck in the event of a minor collision or getting stuck in traffic. For people dealing with really big things, as you and the boys are, those little “sucky” things, like all the paperwork you’re having to do that may prove to be pointless, just seem to pile on. That’s what I’m sensing in your blog, that you needed your neighbors to support and understand you, just to get through some of that minor stuff in order to deal with the big stuff.
But you’re getting stronger all the time. Isn’t that what sports are all about? You have to work the muscles and really push them in order to make them stronger… the rest of us are mere puny wimps.
You are making wonderful progress. Will the group start over or will you be with some of the same people?
I’m so sorry that you are having to live in this time of grief. I was just over to YaYa’s blog and left him a message. He is the age my son was when my first husband died. It is a tough time for sure.
I’m glad that you have reached a point of acceptance, even though what you are having to accept is not what you would have chosen if given the choice.
I’ll be back to check up on you and see how you are doing. Keep talking, remembering, crying and taking time to breathe. Hopefully you will have some laughter and joy amongst the tears and pain of your loss.
Juls,
One thing I appreciate about your blog is the honesty. I noted the comment that you wanted your life to be better before Tom died, and you want it to be better now. My guess is if you took a poll, all of us, at one time or another, want our lives to be better. There are times – days, even months, where I think my life is perfect and don’t want it to change at all. There are many times in any given day that I want it to be better. Of course, I can’t define what better is. I am confident that yours will improve – you are in a valley and are working hard to climb out. And as you probably hear all too often, it is going to take time. There was a point in my life a few years ago where some things were bad, the worst experience of my life so far, and I did not believe they would ever get better, or that I would ever be able to move past it. Now, it’s been three years and I have to say it’s like a distant memory, or something that happened to someone else. I’m not sure Tom’s death will ever feel like that, but I am sure it will hurt less over time.
*Hugs*
Hugs from me, too. I’ve written and re-written my response about 20 times.
This was such a hopeful post and that seems like progress to me. I hope it does for you, too.
I agree with 21stCM. This is a very hopeful post and you are moving forward. I continually remind myself that moving forward is good. It is not the same as getting “over” it. And it is okay to be happy. Things are NEVER going to be the same again. And THAT is the part that sucks. Not our lives, themselves.