Waves

[fred]

Reading the questions and replys, your comments and observations has been very comforting to me since I stumbled upon this site. So many people in my personal life have made great efforts to see that I am holding up okay; have offered to talk, or listen. But the times when the need is greatest, when I feel most alone, are often inconvenient to call or visit someone (3 a.m. might strain the best of friendships). So that is when I come here for support and company. Over and over again I have read your words speaking out what I have been unable, or unwilling, to articulate. Over and over again I have cried knowing just how you feel. It helps to know not only that others have survived their grief, but that you are doing it right now, just a step ahead or behind me. But today I have a question of a different sort. One of my friends said that her grief was like standing in the surf at the beach with your back to the ocean, never knowing which wave was going to knock her over. After hearing this and comparing it to my own visualization I have ¨collected¨ some of the different ways people see their experience. Does everyone do this? Would you be willing to share your view? Thanks so much to all of you. Sharing helps.

[Dusky]

Fred,

I have been at this process of grieving for nearly three years now, having lost my partner in July 2005. Within the first 6 months, I wrote a short analogy of grief and what it was to me. I recall sharing this with individuals on this site at that time. So many new faces have come aboard (tragically) since I first provided that analogy. Your inquiry here today seeking “the different ways people see their experience” reminded me of what I had written. So here it is – what I felt at that time – and what I still believe is what this process is like:

Analogy of what Grief is like to me:

I thought off something last night that for me is a perfect analogy of a grieving person:

Pretend just for a moment that someone was capable – and did do it – of pulling all the electrical wires out of your home and all your plumbing – after the house was perfectly built. The house would appear to everyone as if nothing was wrong – it would still look to be whole and the outer shell would still have all the pretty paint on it and the landscaping in the yard would remain untouched. But when you went to use your beautiful home you would have no electricity and no water – not because electricity and water were not available to the area – but because someone had pulled all the wires and pluming out of your perfect looking house. It was now just a shell.

What a dilemma – how would you fix it – you would have to actually rewire that house and re-plumb it to make it whole. You would not want to bull doze it because the shell was still perfectly good – it is the inside – the deep inside – behind the walls and plaster that would have to be accessed to fix your home. It would take months of careful painstaking work to find just the right way to fix it all so it worked again properly – and in the meantime, you would have to try to live in that empty shell and make do with what you had.

For me this is what grief is like – The shell of me is still here – but all my internal wiring/plumbing has been destroyed and must be reconnected to work again. It is a terribly slow and difficult process to reconnect it all back together – and it will be new wiring with some of the old used material put back in where it will fit. You desperately want to use some of that old wiring – as those are the memories of your loved one – all that material is there – it’s just in a large tangled pile of wire and pipes – and its your job to find what you can salvage and make it work with the new wiring and pipes you know you will have to buy. Slowly you take it a room at a time and begin the process – because you really love all those wires and pipes that appear to be in such a shambles – and you know what that house (person) will look lie again – given enough time. So many people don’t recognize the shambles you are in - because they look at the house and it appears from the outside to be normal – but reality lies in the pile of wires and pipes that need to be reconstructed.

Somehow, – in some time – this project will become reality – and the lights will be turned on and the water will run again – hopefully even better than before.

____________________________________________________

By the way - my book has gone to print. You will see this "Analogy of Grief" (presented above)in the second half of the book under "Reflections." The book in its entirety is a much more elaborate expression of my journey through mourning. I should have my initial copies of the book next week - which means that availability to the public is just around the corner. More on all this very soon.

John – Dusky is my handle on here,

Love you Jack

[fred]

Thanks Dusky, that is a great story, so much different than the ones I have picked up so far, yet so complete. Three years seems like an eternity from where I am now (fourteen months), it is difficult to imagine what what life will feel like that far out. Without giving away too much of your book, can I ask how things are for you now? Are the plumbing and electrical systems all sorted out, or did you discover other unforseen disasters along the way? Did you try to recreate everything just as it was or did it seem like an opportunity to make a few changes? I am not sure that I have even begun to sort the wires from the pipes. Thanks again for your reply!

[LarrysGirl]

Fred, I can only speak for me but I wouldn't have been able to sort through the wires at fourteen months. Its not that you can't start looking at the wires but my mind (as much as I wanted to think it was working okay) was still in somewhat of a fog and I wore myself out trying to put the wires together when it wasn't time for me mentally, emotionally or physically. I guess what I am saying is you can try and see how it feels for you. If you agitated, depressed, exhausted, etc. then maybe thats your bodys way of saying take your time. It will happen but take your time. Deborah

[Dusky]

Fred,

Let me try to address some of the questions you posed in your reply:

1. How are things for me now? Well I still cry. Not every day – but the tears are still there. If I hear a favorite song or see a favorite food in the grocery store, it can still make me sad. However, I can now also bring back some wonderful memories and some times these same things will bring a smile to my face and a memory of some splendid times with Jack. Therefore, my perspective has softened to allow me to see beyond the tears and find the joy that WAS. I have been able to see through some of those tangled wires and broken pipes and reconnect certain pieces

2. Are the plumbing and electrical systems all sorted out, or did I discover unforeseen disasters along the way? I realized a long time ago that this process is a lifetime endeavor – and therefore the project will never be totally completed – life after all is never really completed until we ourselves are no more – so I am ok with looking at it as a process that is and always will be ongoing. However, I can see some of the progress. I have moved to a new residence and took with me all the possessions that Jack and I had accumulated over the years. I had no regrets about leaving our last home we had lived in together and I feel his presence with me here. I guess that is progress. However, I find its all in how you look at life – perspective – and I choose to look at the glass as half full. Writing my book has been the most therapeutic counseling tool. Never overlook the power of the pen in recovering from devastating loss.

3. How are things for me now? It was not until I had reached the two-year mark that I was able to feel live around me again. For me that was the time frame – but it is different for every one. Grief is such a personal voyage. The important thing is to face it, pass through its many phases, and not run from it. I am convinced that the only way to do this is by remembering your loved one and not in letting go and burying the past. In addition to my book being a story of what happened to Jack and me during his illness it is also a story about what happened to me in the years after his death. The second part of my book is a reflection of grief and how you can pass through and actually transcend grief. It is a book filled with the story of great pain and sorrow – but it is also a book filled with great joy and laughter. Things are getting better for me now – but I will never forget what WAS – because my past has made me who I am NOW. I have found peace in remembering Jack – not in letting him go and burying the past.

4. Do I try to recreate everything just as it was or does it seem like an opportunity to make a few changes? Probably a combination of both. I obviously looked for some change since I did move to a new residence. However, on the other hand, I wanted to take all my “stuff” – Jacks and My stuff – and I found myself placing it in what would be considered similar places in my new home. That process reminded me of him and that gave me comfort. I still have the car that was ours – but was more the car that he drove when he was alive. I like the idea of keeping that – it’s a real piece of who he was – it’s where he sat when he drove. Again, it reminds me of him and I like that. I have a shelf of books. Jack never liked that idea of a shelf of books. I have a bookshelf – so in some ways I guess I did see what happened as an opportunity to do some things that I had not pursued when he was alive. His ashes sit atop the center portion of these shelves. The shelves are a change we would have never made together – however, it was something that I always wanted - so I pursued that. I think if Jack were alive today, he would approve of where he sits atop that shelf. I spend a lot of time in the office where that shelf is. He can still bring me joy through memories. Near his ashes is an old baking dish with the inscription “Made With Love” – he used to use this baking dish when he cooked up one of his many culinary wonders. All the things we had together as well as anything new that I now possess since he died provide me with wonderful memories of who he was and what we had. The book shelf is filled with our past and my future.

All this continues to remind me of the following …

“Because he has been here, I will be different than I would have been. I will have to become his legacy. He travels with me into tomorrow. He may have died, but love never ends.”

Perhaps you have not begun sorting out tall those wires and pipes – but you will. Sometimes you do not even recognize that you have started the process or how much progress you have made. The process of grief is measured in baby steps – forwards and backwards – up and down.

I believe my book will be a great read for you and all my friends on this site. One of the things I have always wanted to accomplish since Jack died was to pull together all the pieces of his tragic death and find something good in what happened. This book has done that for me. It has helped me heal and I believe its words will help others heal. I believe Jack would be very proud that some good has resulted from the tragedy of his death. We were always positive people always looking at the glass as half full.

I’m still untangling those wires and pipes – but I’m making progress.

John – Dusky is my handle on here

Love you Jack

[suzanne]

Dusky

Very wise words. I look forward to reading your book.

Suzanne

[kayc]

Wow, we have some very articulate people in our midst! I have never thought of trying to put into an analogy, my grief. It is true about the waves, especially in the first couple of years. But I like what Dusky wrote too, about the house. I have to say, Dusky, that right now my shell of a house is replumbed and rewired, and it is all new and better. You see, I am not the same person, but I am more aware of who I am and am stronger for it, I am more independent, more self-reliant. Yes, sometimes I still get lonely. Yes I still miss George, there is no one like him, and I can look back at memories of him and smile. He was special. Now I come home to an empty house and there's just me and it's okay. I can relate to single people now, like my son who is 24 and just has his dog...it's okay to enjoy something just for the experience of it, even if you have no one to share it with. It's okay to take a walk alone, okay to view a sunset alone, okay to prepare a wonderful meal just for yourself, and okay to be the only one responsible for your place. It's okay to be responsible for your own life, for meeting your own needs. None of this would I have realized if I had not gone through this metamorphosis. So now I am remarried, although we live 172 miles away from each other...when we do see each other, it is as two whole people that enrich and enjoy each other's lives...we don't have it everyday, but enjoy it when we do. I feel neither single nor married, but more like an individual in a committed relationship, and to me that's having come a long ways. My wish for all of us is for new sheetrock, new plumbing, new wiring, and when it's done, a home that is beautiful and comfortable to live in.

KayC

[fred]

Wow is right Kay! Thanks to you too, this has been great help. I don´t know yet what to do now, if anything, but my hope is that each piece of information will give me a clearer picture of what comes next. Deborah is right, I am agitated, depressed, exhausted, confused, etc. and I guess I thought those things should start easing up by now. The big lesson I am still learning is that I am no longer in control of myself, maybe love is bigger than any of the participants in a relationship and it is only together that two people have any sway over it. I don´t know, maybe I should just be still and listen. Thanks friends, its great to have you here.

[teny]

Hi fred Reading the posts from all my far away friends is an every day confort.,Well grief is like you are sleeping and dreaming and all of a sudden the alarm starts ringing .you wake up in panic in the midle of the night you can not awake you can not go bagk to your dream but you can not get up and start the day .For me it is going to be 17 months 2 of april Im not yet ready to get up and start my day .My nights are full of tears and during the day I hate what is life for me .Your friend from far away .TENY hope I make myself understood ?

[fred]

Teny, Yes, I understand very clearly. Your analogy explains how it feels and is a symptom or consequence as well! I can´t even begin to remember how many times I have had that experience at 2, 3, 4, 1, 11, or 5 o´clock, and I´ve just recently reached a point of such exhaustion that I can sleep through the night. The first night I finally sleep for five hours straight was only about three weeks ago and I had such a terrible nightmare I literally jumped out of bed soaked in sweat. It was so frightening that I tried to stay awake the next three nights and did not sleep until I was too tired to keep going. It is better now, getting about seven hours of rest a night, but still alot of nightmares and a new development; teeth grinding or jaw clenching while asleep. Hopefully this is just another phase. How are you doing? Have you been able to find any local people to help you through this? Good to hear from you. If only we could go back to the dream, my friend.

[LarrysGirl]

Fred, thats the way my sleep was starting to be, waking all hours, terrible nightmares and waking up startled. It wears you down. I was trying everything, deep breathing, exercise, etc. but it has finally slowed down some and not quite as horrifying when I awake. I'm sorry you've had to go thru that because you feel so alone in this world especially at night. I wish for all of us some peace and comfort, soon very soon. Deborah