This is not a post that I planned to write. In fact, my finger is poised above the delete button now. This post is written not for sympathy. I am writing this because I think others who may face a loss such as mine should be made aware of what to expect. I am also writing it so that someone may become aware of what another is experiencing and be better able to assist them.
My good friend from high school called me yesterday morning and we talked for a long time. During that conversation she shared with me some of her journey through the loss of her son and how it had affected her daughters as well. One of the things that stuck with me was that she advised her daughters to not let the loss of their brother define them. They would absolutely be different people because of their loss, but that the loss itself should not define who they would become. What sage advice that was for them and for me.
I will write more about that in a minute. But now, I want to tell you about the rest of my day in hopes that if you ever face this time in your life, or if you know someone who does, it might help you to understand your situation or theirs.
Yesterday morning was full of contact with others. Most of my days are not since I live on the edge of the lake in the middle of nowhere. My friend called. A neighbor stopped by. Shelley checked in.
Hobo and I took a long walk up the lane and down the beach. It was breathtakingly beautiful. The fog had lifted and the day was crystal clear. The fog had frozen on the tree tops and they glistened like diamonds. The crystals were being blown out of the trees and landed on my face much as falling snow does when you look up at it. It was beautiful and I imagined Bonnie smiling down and then realized what she saw was even more breathtaking than this. It made me smile.
The afternoon wore on however. I was working around the house as I usually do. It was as if the fog of the morning had crept into my heart. The longer the afternoon went on, the darker, the thicker, the more ominous the fog became. It became the worst afternoon, evening and night since losing Bonnie.
I lay on the floor for over an hour just holding onto Hobo. He does not like to be restrained, but last night he was content. He senses my pain and allowes for it. Finally, I went to bed early, thinking I could sleep this off. As I lay there looking out at what had always been the soothing beauty of the black water and the lights reflecting off of it, my depression continued to deepen. My heart literally hurt. Not figuratively...this was a physical ache and it was not a 'heart attack'. It was an attack of the heart.
This was a loneliness that I cannot describe. Something tangible and frightening, quite honestly. I wondered how a heart can continue to beat steadily when it is in so much pain.
The part that I've not previously shared in my writing, but that others who are in this club understand and have shared with me, is that we do not care if our hearts stop beating. There is no longer a fear of death, but rather a longing for it. We do not see ourselves being able to endure this existence for long and we do not want to.
I tell you this for several reasons, but not for sympathy. Truly, not for sympathy. What I pray will happen by my doing so is understanding.
Prior to October 30, 2010, when others have experienced losses such as mine, I had absolutely no idea what they were going through. I'm not sure many of us can imagine. I know that my friends who are in this club do not speak of it outside of the club. I'm beginning to understand that this is wrong. Others need to know what to expect and what others are going through.
I've not understood. I've assumed incorrectly. I've said the wrong things. I've probably done more harm than good when others are in such pain. Not because I intended to, but out of ignorance.
I've heard grief called a "process" as if it had been designed in a shop or office. I've heard people say we "get over it" with time as if it were a cold or flu. Those are incorrect, shallow comments made by those who do not fully comprehend. There are terribly difficult times associated with some levels of grief. People need to understand that these difficulties are 'normal' as well. But to call them a process for someone in the middle of grief does not help them. In addition, my fellow club members tell me we do not 'get over it' with time. We adapt. We change. We continue to breathe. But we don't 'get over it' and return to our lives as we were. We will never, ever be the same. We need to understand that so that we are not disappointed, disillusioned, destroyed when we don't 'return to normal'. What was normal for us is no longer.
My friend's advice to her daughters is absolutely right on. She told them to not let this loss define them. I thought about that last night as I tried to go to sleep. What should define my future if not the loss of the one I love so profoundly?
I think Shelley explained it best one day over Christmas. In her wisdom that is far beyond her years and through tears brought by her pain, she said that we should strive to be who her Mom wanted us to be. She told me in effect to be defined by my life
with Bonnie and by who she wanted me to be....not by her death.
That will be my goal. I will try.
I pray that this entry will bring some understanding to others. I pray that the understanding will be helpful, not hurtful. I pray that this entry along with all the others will somehow, someway bring glory to God. That was Bonnie's goal...bringing Him glory. That was what she wanted for me as well. For that I will try.
Perhaps that trying and that understanding are other "treasures of darkness" Isaiah 45:3.
