Not even past experience can prepare us for grief. I've been learning this the hard way as I struggle with the loss of my aunt. Having lost many influential loved ones before this, I thought I had it more or less figured out. It was going to hurt, but I'd get through it.
Or, maybe, not so much....
I had several epiphanies while I sat next to my aunt as she died, and I could (and probably will) write something about each one of those. The first one was that self-destruction isn't really a thing. It doesn't exist. Destruction is a very real thing that does exist, but it does not stop at the body of a person. I don't get to hide under the blanket of "self-destruction" just because I am only harming myself physically . Self-destruction is destruction. If I destroy me, I destroy others along the way.
Further, who the fuck am I to say that I am not special or loved when everyone tells me that I am? I trust the people who tell me that I am, yet I distrust what they say when they say that.
One of the people who had been my fiercest champions was now dying before me. One of her last acts of rebellion was to try to shield me from seeing her face. She didn't want me to be there, but guess what? She had no say in the matter. So I told her to STFU, wrapped her in my arms, and held her close to me so that I could stroke her hair. "I wouldn't have driven all night to get to Aunt Sharon," I told her. "So just knock it off, because I'm here and I'm not leaving."
She took as deep a breath as she could and then fell asleep in my arms. My right arm fell asleep as it cradled her head and neck, and my back ached from leaning over the bed to hold her like that. But she was peaceful, so I stayed like that for, well, I don't know how long.
That was Saturday morning. I got the call on Friday night and within twenty minutes I was in my car on the way to Tacoma. I arrived at 6 am local time, but due to getting lost several times I didn't make it to the hospital until 8. My aunt passed at about 3:30am Monday morning. Everything is a blur, really. And the details, I suppose, don't matter much.
When she passed, I went outside and fell to my knees on the sidewalk and sobbed. When I finally willed myself to walk, I only got as far as the nearest garden and I tore the shit out of it. Yeah... I had some anger.
Anyway, from the time I got the call on Friday night until the time my aunt passed, I hadn't slept much. I drove all Friday night into Saturday morning and spent all day Saturday in the hospital. Later that night we went to my cousin's house and I got a few hours of sleep on the most uncomfortable couch ever made. We went back to the hospital early on Sunday and in the wee hours of Monday morning, she passed.
It was mid/late morning when we finally left the hospital. I needed some time alone so I decided to get a cheap motel rather than stay with my cousins (I also thought that they probably needed some time alone together, as siblings, after losing their mom).
I wasn't functioning at all at that point. I wandered aimlessly around downtown Tacoma, then slinked into a bar to have a drink. The room was spinning around me. I was tired and hungry but I barely noticed. I had a beer then drove some more. I desperately wanted to sleep, but that wasn't going to happen.
I can't account for the rest of the day, but when I finally put my head on the pillow of the motel bed, it was 8pm or so. I guess you could say that I slept, but in reality it was more of a fitful rest. At some point I just laid in bed and thought the pain could literally rip me in two and there was nothing I could do about it.
And then I realized, the pain was exactly what I had to feel if I was going to survive this.
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I am not the most emotionally adept person in the world. I do flight better than I fight, and my "flight" usually consists of self-destructive behavior (see above). That which doesn't kill me usually only makes me stronger much, much later. Literally, it sometimes takes years for me to process something that's incredibly painful, and usually by then my memories are fuzzy and not easy to evoke. The emotional memory remains, but I choke it down and walk it off.
This is not healthy, and I realized that as I tossed and turned in a Motel 6 in Tacoma.
So I've been trying to deal with this loss in real time, rather than running from it or trying to drink it away. It has been an incredible challenge and I often feel like I'm losing the battle. The simplest things can send me in to a tailspin: I'm reading a book about SCOTUS and the death penalty cases that have been brought before it. It's an intriguing book, but enjoying it has been more of a challenge because it's precisely the sort of thing I used to discuss with my aunt. She was instrumental in my journey of becoming fiercely opposed to the death penalty. So I can't read this book without recalling the conversations we had about it, or the way she grinned at me while I struggled through a conflict that I had.
The person that I was in 2014 would put the book down and go get drunk and do something stupid. That person would not have let one single tear be shed; she wouldn't have even acknowledged the loss.
But I can't be that person anymore, so I'm allowing myself to feel the pain and accept the grief. It's not easy, and I stumble a lot along the way. When I'm having a really bad day I revert to telling myself that I should be over it already, and I can hold on to that thought for longer than is healthy.
As I'm writing this, it has been only two months since I got the call. When I post this diary, it will be only one day after the two month anniversary. So I have to constantly remind myself that I need to be patient. I need to be kind to myself. I wouldn't tell anyone that they need to be over a death this quickly- that's absurd.
But old habits die hard, and learning to be as kind to myself as I am to others is an incredible challenge. I think, for me, that has been the hardest part of grieving. Seeing myself reflected in the person that I just lost and being angry that she didn't take care of herself and it killed her, and then accepting that I must avoid the same fate. That I must take care of myself. That I must learn to love myself as much as I love everyone else around me.
It is okay for me to mourn her passing and there is no deadline for grief. That is and always has been true. Even for me.
Welcome, fellow travelers on the grief journey
and a special welcome to anyone new to The Grieving Room.
We meet every Monday evening.
Whether your loss is recent, or many years ago;
whether you've lost a person, or a pet;
or even if the person you're "mourning" is still alive,
("pre-grief" can be a very lonely and confusing time),
you can come to this diary and say whatever you need to say.
We can't solve each other's problems,
but we can be a sounding board and a place of connection.
Unlike a private journal
here, you know: your words are read by people who
have been through their own hell.
There's no need to pretty it up or tone it down..
It just is.