Sitting With Grief

I am in no way qualified to write a blog about grief. I’ll start there. I do not have past trauma or abuse, no serious health concerns or conditions, and haven’t lost many loved ones. Yet. But it’s one of my worst fears. I fear grief that feels like it will be fatal. I fear waking that next morning, and every morning after, without that person. Or with that diagnosis. Or reliving that event. Many of you know exactly what that grief feels like, and could write a book, much less a blog.

I started thinking about this topic a while back, when I ran across this TED Talk by Nora McIrnery, http://t.ted.com/6UEKtAt. It’s worth 14 minutes of your life, but the gist is that she says we don’t “move on” from grief, we move forward with it. And how grief doesn’t happen in a vacuum, but is “multi-tasking,” and mixed with so many other emotions, often in the same day, even in the same breath. She says sometimes grief feels like it could literally be fatal, and that what people on the outside need to understand is that some things can’t be fixed and not all wounds are meant to heal. Not long after listening to that talk, I saw this quote (attributed to C.S. Lewis, but I can’t seem to confirm that): “I sat with my anger long enough that she told me her real name was grief.” For some reason, that hit me like a gut punch.  And I didn’t immediately realize why.

Many of you know my mom. One of the most kind and humble and giving people I know.  Challenged for that title only by my dad. (How did I get this lucky, seriously?) You may also know that she has Parkinson’s. She was diagnosed early (age 55) and has had 15+ years of doing pretty well. But the past couple of years have been a slow and steady decline. I see it stealing her quality of life. Her hopes and dreams and hobbies and joy. And she doesn’t only deal with Parkinson’s symptoms, but chronic pain from various conditions. And I mean chronic. For years. AND IT MAKES ME ANGRY. So very angry. Why her? Hard knocks over and over to the nicest and sweetest person ever. Why?? And there’s no outlet for my anger. Nothing I can do to help her or heal her. And the anger festers and boils and sometimes feels like it will boil over. I’m sure a lot of you know that feeling while watching someone you love suffer. If you could take it from them and on yourself instead, you would.

And I realized this is why that quote hit me in the gut - “I sat with my anger long enough that she told me her real name was grief.” I am GRIEVING. Grieving the loss of my still-present mom. Disease is gradually stealing her life away. Forcing her to sit on the sidelines when she’d rather be in the game. Giving her days of pain instead of days of laughter and ease. And IT. IS. NOT. FAIR. And I am angry. And I am grieving. And, as many of you already know, grief doesn’t follow a formula. Progression through the “stages” looks more like the road sign in Pee Wee’s Big Adventure than a straight line from denial to acceptance. And though I dread the day when I will understand what this feels like first hand, perhaps the late, great Jimmy Buffett described it perfectly:

Grief is like the wake behind a boat. It starts out as a huge wave that follows close behind you and is big enough to swamp and drown you if you suddenly stop moving forward. But if you do keep moving, the big wake will eventually dissipate. And after a long time, the waters of your life get calm again, and that is when the memories of those who have left begin to shine as bright and as enduring as the stars above.