Second Year Holidays

[marsha]

Can we talk? (I think it was Joan Rivers who used to say that) In the first year, looking back, even in my raw grief there was a kind of hopefulness that I clung to, because I thought once I cycled through the stages, over and over, there would be a time when eventually it got better. And yes, it has, in many ways. But this second year has brought yet another set of emotions, more for the learning curve. Thanksgiving last year I was 3 1/2 months out, and still in shock. This year, I'm doing the same thing - cooking a turkey, watching football, whatever it takes. I've had invitations from dear friends, but I just can't do it - I can't make small talk and pretend that everything's ok. So I'm going with my gut. It's been a rough week - tears have been at the surface constantly. Because now, I'm remembering the little things, the day to day things - and they hit all the time. Reality bites, I guess. The acceptance stage I feel now is the harsh reality that while the world is still going round, and I'm on for the ride, I'm living an alternate universe (or maybe a parallel one), that's internal. Outwardly, I have no doubt people think I'm doing ok. Except for yesterday, when long time customers who haven't been in for a while asked that dreaded question = "so where's Joe?", and when I told them, we all started crying (they're both widows/widowers). So the dual personality thing continues - I'm sorry I'm rambling, but this is where my head's been at the last few days. I feel loud music/screaming therapy coming on. GRRRRHHH! Happy Cranksgiving, all my friends - Hugs, Marsha

[kath]

Dear Marsha,

I think we expected the 2nd year to be better because the first was so awful and yet we survived it. Don't plan on any alien invasions just yet...It was somewhere around the 2.5 mark that things started to change. My happy days came more often then the sad ones. I don't think it is acceptance, really, because they should be here, I always think that, but more an acknowledgement that where they are, isn't so bad. I'm glad you have friends that remember him and will cry with you. It all helps.

To your Cranksgiving...don't let the turkeys get you down.

Kath

[Korina]

Happy Cranksgiving...ha ha! That's a good one!

Even though I am only at 5 months, I am starting to get an occasion hit with a memory of one of those little habits or everyday things... And going back to work in January.... well, he used to call me or email me practically every day - you get the picture.

Hugs,

Korina

[Chai]

Dear Marsha,

Happy Cranksgiving (=D good one!) to you, too. I am happy to be here for you and listen to what you are saying. It is definitely hard to think of those little things, because they seemed so little when our loved ones were here, but the idea that even those little things aren't with us anymore, is very big and hard to handle. I even just miss the sound of my dad's flip flops at 3 am, or the way he would lecture me on tongue-scraping after I brushed my teeth and I'd say "ew."

I think it is very good that you are treating yourself to what you need to do, instead of letting others' holiday spirit invade. Good for you for putting your foot down and doing things your way! I hope that you are having a good weekend.

A good cry with people who understand is so special. I am glad those people could be there for you, and that you all shared like that.

Try that loud music/screaming therapy! It really works.

take care,

Chai

[Boo Mayhew]

Marsha, that made my heart swell with empathy. I can almost picture you having to answer the question and battling the tears. I feel the same way about Christmas coming at me - and have pasted link to my blog entry about it. Let's hold hands through this. Thanks for sharing. I'm thankful that Cranksgiving is over for another year, bah humbug

http://boomayhew.blogspot.com/2009/11/christmas-is-coming.html

[kath]

Marsha,

I had a similar experience about 2 months after Bob's death. I was working and had reps in from the bank to fix our check scanner. I was barely holding it together and they kept pushing me about what I was doing for "fun" that summer. They asked about six times trying to make trite conversation and I finally blurted out, "My husband just died and it is the worst summer of my life." Well, they looked stunned and didn't ask anymore questions, just tried really hard to finish up and boot scoot out the door. Even my co-worker who had been listening didn't say a word. The only one crying that day was me.

Hope you are having a better day today.

Kath