A tug. A release. A cramp, a flutter, a goodbye. Look how the fall air ruffles the leaves out back! Breathe. Please keep breathing. We could all try hard harder. Pots of sympathy stowed for when supply chains break, but what about now? Another season of jack hammering, is what, she said with a clenched jaw. Just because something isn’t as terrible as an earlier occurrence doesn’t mean it isn’t still terrible. A tug. A release. A breath. You’re still breathing, right? The heart’s syncopations. The brain’s fired off messages. Memory or dream, which is it? Fear or excitement, which is it? They say grief lives in the body, but that isn’t news – everything lives in the body. Can you sing for me at night? No, no, never mind — the treachery of reminders. Better to watch Jeopardy or sit in silence, but if silence not for too, too long. In through the nose out through the mouth. Count. For your cortisol levels. Nothing will ever be the same again, but you know what? That has always been true. Breathe. The wind is trying to get your attention and not in a good way. Six or seven sirens a day – talk about cortisol! No. Never mind. Please never mention cortisol again. The heart will one day stop and that eventuality no longer terrifies me. I now know how giving death the side eye, maybe even a welcoming nod, is not the same as being suicidal. Good to know. Good to know. Jeopardy and snacks – things to look forward to. What wind what what do you want from me? Will you ever be a neutral force of climate again or will you forever harken back to a spring at the foot of the Rockies when you blew relentlessly, when you couldn’t scour away my terror, when you met my son at 7,000 feet and made him philosophical, got him waxing on about the waving grasses, how beautiful they were, the gun in his lap. I’m at sea level now. He was at 7,000 feet then. We can never truly gauge the feelings of another. Not really. So what does the wind want of me now? I don’t need a push to remember. I remember all day long – another reason to love laying my head down at night and falling asleep. Hidden despair. Expressed despair. Both unstoppable. By me. He stopped them. Once and for all. We sigh, we remember, but what we don’t do anymore is worry about him. How we worried! We worried about him even when we didn’t know we were worrying about him. That cessation, anyway, affords a blessed peace.
(((Dee)))~ I move through your word flow…up and down, back and forth – imagine each space, the many moments and ways to try and fill them…only to land where you’ve dropped me…in a place of not having to worry any longer. As awful as it all is, that seems a gift to hang onto, maybe a place to go when nowhere looks appealing. That lack of worry – a relief one could live inside of.
Blessings to you and yours,
Nancy
It is not a small thing, that release of worry.
It’s really been a short amount of time yet. I remember many years back now, when the impossible happened to my husband and he passed away.
Thoughts and dreams passed through me for several years, fading over time. I was young then. I sill think of our ten years together often. And speak to him in my mind. 40 years later.
But I don’t have the frantic dreams I had back then- searching long hall ways for doors that would open to a new reality- one where he still lived.
I opened all of them.
He was not a child of mine so … different.
But I relate to much you express.
Peace will find you, and you will find it.
Eventually. Much love Dee.
I’m very sorry to hear about your loss. So young! Thank you for the long view. Right now I want sirens to stop driving me nuts. I want to not feel angst when the wind blows. I talk to Danny too. I also write him letters a couple of times a week.
When I first heard, I wondered if there had been worrying, sensing this could not have just happened out of the blue. That must have been so hard.
Worrying and a sense of helplessness. Yes it was awful.
There’s so much here, Dee. So much here. One thing I will comment on is your last thoughts about no longer worrying about him. The relief of that lack of worry. In that relief, you and Grace are having the same experience. For Grace, it does offer some comfort, while at the same time accentuating her fear of my death. And in that regard, your consideration of your own death is similar to mine now, at this point in my life. I am less frightened for my own passing, a gift from John to me. I’d still much rather have him here with me, but in his absence, I’ll take this bit of comfort. And like Shibori Girl, I also speak to John. For me, it’s a pretty constant one sided conversation, though I often can anticipate what he’s feeling about what I’mi saying. Do you hear/feel Danny’s response to you?
Sometimes I do hear him. Once quite clearly.
I’m reading and appreciating this exchange(?) from from my perspective as a non-mom… I’m aware that I can’t simply can’t ever stand in a mom’s shoes. But the empathy and the listening here is something that does bring me to tears and a better understanding of the depths of grief.
btw – from Maggie; I have issues with logging in -entirely of something I’m doing wrong on wordpress.
The community here, including everyone who listens and who have not had my experience, is profound, life saving. I appreciate it beyond what I can say.
Relief from worry, yes. It is hard to think of death as a gift but Rich’s death enabled my girls to alleviate some of their concerns about death. Since I had been present when both of my parents died, being present when Rich died was not as shocking to me. I’ve had over 4 months to face his death, to miss hm in total but it is the little routines, daily rituals, weekly events that we shared, that come at me…as in Sunday football. I am not into football and when Rich started watching football, on a regular basis, around the time he turned 35, I decided I could either be one of those bitchy wives, complaining or I could, once in a while, Join in the ritual! I would have fanciful snacks and drinks and always a big feast if his team won the Super Bowl. To add spice to the game, I often would root for the opposite team, going so far as to make silly posters and put them all around the living room Every September when the NFL schedule came out, I would make note of which teams were playing on our TV, type out the schedule and present it to him on game day. So when football came around last month, to honor Rich, I thought I would watch a few games but nope, simply could not…tug and release.
Your former football tolerance-turned-celebration speaks so much to your character.
The constant worry is exhausting. Never knowing what to do, how to help. It is overwhelming.
That is so so true.