A special welcome to anyone who is new to The Grieving Room. We meet every Monday evening. Whether your loss is recent or many years ago, whether you have lost a person or a pet, or even if the person you are "mourning" is still alive ("pre-grief" can be a very lonely and confusing time) you can come to this diary and process your grieving in whatever way works for you. Share whatever you need to share. We can't solve each other's problems, but we can be a sounding board and a place of connection.
Today I am thinking about the course grief takes.
There is no predetermined grief cycle… there is no right or wrong way to grieve… it is what it is… it goes where it will go…
repeating… turning inward then out… and inward again.
It is about the relationship with the self.
Grief… twisting in and out… flows into a vast pool and settles into the waters of life… changing us forever.
We lost my husband's Aunt last month, the day after my daughter's birthday. As I checked in with relatives and her care giver I became increasingly aware that she knew her time had come... it was then to speak or never for us to know what she wanted after her passing. She had a will in place, everything in place to make it easy on her sister and brother who would carry out her wishes... it was the small things that she had collected throughout her travels that might have meant that we, her family, could keep, and could look at to remember her by.
Aunt Jill had traveled the world as a stewardess for Pan Am. She was beautiful, tall, independent and worldly. She never married and never raised a child. In fact, I had heard she really didn't like children. Though, when my daughter was born she offered to help out so I could continue grad school. Every week, she came to my home and took care of my daughter for a couple of hours. When my daughter began preschool and went to summer camp, she picked her up once a week and took her to her house. My daughter napped, ate and played with Aunt Jill. When my daughter began elementary school, Aunt Jill continued her once a week visits, picking her up after school, taking her to her house, feeding her, baking with her.... it was her job to pick up the dog's poop in the yard.
Then, a year ago last spring Aunt Jill became ill. She called us to cancel the coming week's visit. We didn't think too much of it. At that time she still smoked. We got a call from my father in law. He was going to her house to take her to the emergency room... why had she not called 911? It took hours to do hair and makeup... nothing comes between elegance and death I guess. Her toes were turning blue.
A few days before this she tried to move a chair, she fell and broke her pelvis. She had COPD but didn't know it. She stayed in the hospital for about a month with little improvement. When she finally came home in July of last year, she was never to leave her house again. She needed so much oxygen it could not be carried or pushed. She hired 2 care givers and they took care of all of her daily living needs... one special lady named Maria was to become very close with Jill. The next school year I took my daughter to visit Aunt Jill every week, rushing around from visiting to extra curricular activities... but always enjoying time with Aunt Jill, who had come to love her great niece.
We had just returned from our yearly house boat trip to Shasta Lake. It was a bitter sweet trip because my husband and I were withholding that I had just been diagnosed with breast cancer. We wanted to wait until our daughter had her 8th birthday and finished the school year. We didn't want to bring with us the strong emotions that a cancer diagnosis elicits and detract from the time everyone was looking forward to having all year long. Looking back, I felt heavily weighted, stifled. We returned home on Memorial day. The following day my husband came into the bedroom and sat on the bed; he tearfully told me Aunt Jill had passed away in her sleep. I couldn't comprehend what he was saying. The timing was terrible... how could our daughter cope with the loss of Aunt Jill and my cancer? We had just lost my husband's mom the previous fall. Too much loss. The waves of worry and anxiety heightened... and the weighted, stifled feeling burdened my shoulders and heart.
I called Aunt Jill's caregiver, Maria, knowing her loss would be that of losing a family member. I was relieved to find out it was the other care giver who had found Aunt Jill reaching for the phone with her head against the head board... why hadn't she pressed her medical alert button? She must have known it was the end. Maria cried heavily... feeling guilty for having to find a new job so soon after her employer's passing - her dear friend's passing... she said that Jill had told her to make sure my daughter was given a set of 4 silk wallets from Japan she admired.... to make sure that she came to the house to take anything she wanted to remember her by... that family should come over to take food from the refrigerator and freezer so it would not spoil. Jill must have known her time had come. That day, Maria had taken a day off from work, the only day she had ever taken off from care taking. That day it was the other care giver who found her. She had come and checked on her to find her sleeping. She made morning preparations around the house and at 11:00 AM went into wake her up to find her reaching for the phone....
How it must have been for Aunt Jill to wait... knowing her time had come... and quietly choosing a gentle way to express her gratitude and love for her care giver... for us... for my daughter.
And the waves come and go.... gentler with time... with the experience of grief that is no longer so new. The waves have become more comforting in time, soothing and as elegant as Great Aunt Jill.
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