Tuesday, January 12, 2010
Freezing morning fog touched by sun
Originally uploaded by B℮n
I just returned from therapy. I arrived there a complete emotional mess, and I left there with some perspective. There is just too much going on for me right this minute.
Tomorrow is January 13th. That makes it officially 4 months months ago that Michael died. Just four months.
Saturday Michael's mother will arrive for us to go through his things. When we planned the date, it seemed like light years away. I think we both thought the time would be enough to give us distance from our pain. Yet, clearly from my waking, and not so waking, hours of worry, it isn't the distance we initially thought. I just called her to check in. After talking with her I realize that my emotions and worry have just gotten out of control. She reminded me that it didn't have to happen right now, that we could just have a visit. Hearing this was such a relief. I told her that I have been agonizing over this, but that I would like us to spend some time visiting, and begin the process. I told her that I didn't want to rush the process, but I do want to begin it.
Monday, January 18th will be Michael's birthday. Do I need to say more? Michael's mother will be spending the night on Saturday, so I plan to have a cake in Michael's memory that night. I don't want her driving home Sunday feeling too upset, and I don't want to put so much onto Monday. I think I'll do something with the kids during the day on Monday, then have some quiet time alone that night.
The following weekend is the reunion-memorial weekend with Michael's friends. They all love Michael very much, so I'm going to just bask in their warmth and friendship.
Last year I was an active participant in an online support group. We were all caregivers to someone with a brain tumor. The group was probably 90% wives. I'm still on the listserv, so I read all the ongoing discussion, but tend to be a silent observer. Very recently one of the women that was active when I was, lost her husband. This week another woman's husband started a significant decline, which we all knew meant his tumor had spread. In these past few days I have been so greatly affected by this. So much so, that I couldn't even bear to go to work today.
Not only have I been going through the cyclical experience of my own grief, but I have been so angry knowing that this horrible condition has, and will begin to, grab hold of these women as well.
Today in therapy I said that I felt like I was spewing venom. In the past I have posted about how I felt like grief had infected my blood with toxins. These past few days my toxicity levels have gone through the roof. When it gets this bad it is so difficult to step back and have perspective. This is especially challenging when you have had little sleep, and the kids have the nerve to still need you. None of this is shared as a an apology for my venomous posts, more of an explanation.
Right now I understand my anger a little better. By tonight I may already forget. What angers me is that last week another widow began this horrible experience. In the next few weeks another may join our ranks. And these are just two people that I'm vaguely familiar with. I'm angry that this keeps happening. I never want another person to feel such pain. I don't want this pain in my own life, and I certainly don't want it in yours.
Tomorrow is a new day. It may be better, or it may not. I need to remind myself that it moves as such. I need to remind myself to be patient, patient with myself.
I need something joyful to look forward to. I need relief.