Long night last night - couldn't sleep, so I got up, took a bath, read a while and finally got to bed at 4:00 am. I slept about an hour - maybe an hour and a half and then it was time to get up.
Five-year-old soccer this morning (about a half hour north) - and then twelve-year-old football at 12:30 (about a half hour south).
No time to think today. No time to grieve - at least not time set aside to specifically grieve. Whether I'm crying or not, I grieve all day - every day. What does it meant to grieve, anyway? Beyond the definition, how do you grieve?
From Merriam Webster:
WooWoo tells me that there is no right or wrong way to grieve, but then she implies that if you don't grieve the "right" way, the pain lasts longer. If there's an instruction book for grieving, I wish someone would give it to me.
I know that some people don't leave their homes for six months - or a year - or longer after losing a child. Is that what I'm supposed to be doing? Is that the proper way to grieve?
I'm constantly aware that I'm almost 70. I don't feel that I have two years to lay in bed - or on the couch - and cry. What happens to my grandchildren during that time?
We were at a soccer game and a football game today. Tomorrow we have two more soccer games. That covers four grandchildren, ages 5-years old, 7-years-old, 10-years-old, and 12-years-old. What happens to them during the two years (or six months - or a year) that I'm busy grieving? My health is fragile. There are sure no guarantees that I'll be here in two years to make it up to them for the time lost. (Do you ever regain time lost???)
I don't understand any of this. I'm not looking for answers. There are no answers.
Images of Greg preparing to hang himself - preparing the rope - attaching it to the beam - testing it (he would certainly test it) run through my mind when I don't expect it. Did he jump? Did he lower himself down slowly? Was he calm? Was he crying? What happened in that 4-6 minutes that it took to die? Did he try to save himself? Did he struggle to breathe? I can see him hanging there, his long thin body - lifeless.
Late at night - in the darkness - in the silence - those images are always there. I try not to dwell on them. What purpose does it serve? Can I change it? Can I turn back time? Can I make him see his worth?
"It's 'normal' to have those thoughts", I'm told. I don't want to feed them, but is it normal to feed them? Am I missing a "step" by not living in those thoughts? It feels like torture to rethink every thought. Why torture myself? What is the benefit?
So, I asked my therapist, "What does healing look like? What does it feel like? How do you know when you are 'healed'?
She answered me something like... "You're not anywhere near that. Healing takes a long time."
Pretty obvious - and it doesn't answer my questions.
How long does healing take? Five years? Ten years? I don't know that I have two years, let alone five or ten. If "healing" is not something I'll ever experience, then how do I get through the time I have left? Why do I need to care about healing if I'll never heal.
My head is mush. Concrete things don't make sense. Grieving and healing are currently beyond my mental and emotional I.Q.
So... where do I go from here?
Five-year-old soccer this morning (about a half hour north) - and then twelve-year-old football at 12:30 (about a half hour south).
No time to think today. No time to grieve - at least not time set aside to specifically grieve. Whether I'm crying or not, I grieve all day - every day. What does it meant to grieve, anyway? Beyond the definition, how do you grieve?
From Merriam Webster:
Definition of grieve
grieved;
grieving
transitive verb
intransitive verb
WooWoo tells me that there is no right or wrong way to grieve, but then she implies that if you don't grieve the "right" way, the pain lasts longer. If there's an instruction book for grieving, I wish someone would give it to me.
I know that some people don't leave their homes for six months - or a year - or longer after losing a child. Is that what I'm supposed to be doing? Is that the proper way to grieve?
I'm constantly aware that I'm almost 70. I don't feel that I have two years to lay in bed - or on the couch - and cry. What happens to my grandchildren during that time?
We were at a soccer game and a football game today. Tomorrow we have two more soccer games. That covers four grandchildren, ages 5-years old, 7-years-old, 10-years-old, and 12-years-old. What happens to them during the two years (or six months - or a year) that I'm busy grieving? My health is fragile. There are sure no guarantees that I'll be here in two years to make it up to them for the time lost. (Do you ever regain time lost???)
I don't understand any of this. I'm not looking for answers. There are no answers.
Images of Greg preparing to hang himself - preparing the rope - attaching it to the beam - testing it (he would certainly test it) run through my mind when I don't expect it. Did he jump? Did he lower himself down slowly? Was he calm? Was he crying? What happened in that 4-6 minutes that it took to die? Did he try to save himself? Did he struggle to breathe? I can see him hanging there, his long thin body - lifeless.
Late at night - in the darkness - in the silence - those images are always there. I try not to dwell on them. What purpose does it serve? Can I change it? Can I turn back time? Can I make him see his worth?
"It's 'normal' to have those thoughts", I'm told. I don't want to feed them, but is it normal to feed them? Am I missing a "step" by not living in those thoughts? It feels like torture to rethink every thought. Why torture myself? What is the benefit?
So, I asked my therapist, "What does healing look like? What does it feel like? How do you know when you are 'healed'?
She answered me something like... "You're not anywhere near that. Healing takes a long time."
Pretty obvious - and it doesn't answer my questions.
How long does healing take? Five years? Ten years? I don't know that I have two years, let alone five or ten. If "healing" is not something I'll ever experience, then how do I get through the time I have left? Why do I need to care about healing if I'll never heal.
My head is mush. Concrete things don't make sense. Grieving and healing are currently beyond my mental and emotional I.Q.
So... where do I go from here?
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