I received a letter last week from Family Court. There was a piece of unfinished business with Greg that I needed to take care of, so today was the day - the sooner the better.
I chose today because I wasn't sure how I would be affected and I have a haircut appointment at 1:00 this afternoon. Busy is better. I didn't want to go to Family Court on a day that I didn't have anything to do in the afternoon, but... think.
Michael went with me for support. I don't know how - or if - I could have done it alone.
Going to Family Court - the process - driving there - finding a parking place in the parking garage - unloading the scooter - going into the building - finding the room where I needed to go. All of that took longer than it took me to complete my business there. One more thing closed - finalized. The words "closure" and "final" punch me every time I hear them.
Being there brought back memories, self-doubt, guilt. Is there something more I could have done? Did I fail him when he needed me most? It starts as questions and ends up as statements: "There was more that I could have done. I failed him when he needed me most."
Questions offer a way out - an option. Did I do enough? Did I fail him? It feels like it's time to take away the question marks. I didn't do enough - I did fail him.
The man who cuts my hair (and has for the past 20+ years - we'll call him John) lost his mother a few years ago. They were close. His mother lived with him and he took such good care of her.
I told him today that I understand so much more about what he suffered and that, with that new understanding, I wanted to tell him again how sorry I am.
Usually, we keep it light. John says (mostly in jest): "I'm not your fucking therapist. I don't care about your problems. If you don't have something pleasant to say... don't say anything. Don't bring your darkness to my day." I "get" his twisted humor and I've loved it (and him) from my first appointment with him.
Today, we didn't keep it light. We talked about the process of grief. He had some advice - from experience gained through the awful experience of several family deaths. Although I'm grateful for his insight (and willingness to be so vulnerable), one thing I am learning is that you have to be as true to yourself in grieving as in anywhere else in your life. I will take the things that feel true to me (if I can figure out exactly what that is) with gratitude.
One of the things John talked about was guilt. "Guilt is part of all this. It won't go away. It will be part of your life now. Don't try to get rid of the grief. Don't make excuses - for you - or for Greg. Don't waste energy trying to answer questions that have no answers. Nothing you can do or say or think - can bring Greg back."
So much of that feels true to me. I've heard from other people who have lost someone, that the guilt is the worst - and that it never goes away. I wonder if John is right - that the questions just eat at you. If I could go back and re-live my life (with my current life experience), there are many things I would do differently - but I can't go back. I can't save Greg. I don't know that I ever could, but it's too late now.
I have a lot to process. I think I need to talk to Woowoo about this one.
I chose today because I wasn't sure how I would be affected and I have a haircut appointment at 1:00 this afternoon. Busy is better. I didn't want to go to Family Court on a day that I didn't have anything to do in the afternoon, but... think.
Michael went with me for support. I don't know how - or if - I could have done it alone.
Going to Family Court - the process - driving there - finding a parking place in the parking garage - unloading the scooter - going into the building - finding the room where I needed to go. All of that took longer than it took me to complete my business there. One more thing closed - finalized. The words "closure" and "final" punch me every time I hear them.
Being there brought back memories, self-doubt, guilt. Is there something more I could have done? Did I fail him when he needed me most? It starts as questions and ends up as statements: "There was more that I could have done. I failed him when he needed me most."
Questions offer a way out - an option. Did I do enough? Did I fail him? It feels like it's time to take away the question marks. I didn't do enough - I did fail him.
The man who cuts my hair (and has for the past 20+ years - we'll call him John) lost his mother a few years ago. They were close. His mother lived with him and he took such good care of her.
I told him today that I understand so much more about what he suffered and that, with that new understanding, I wanted to tell him again how sorry I am.
Usually, we keep it light. John says (mostly in jest): "I'm not your fucking therapist. I don't care about your problems. If you don't have something pleasant to say... don't say anything. Don't bring your darkness to my day." I "get" his twisted humor and I've loved it (and him) from my first appointment with him.
Today, we didn't keep it light. We talked about the process of grief. He had some advice - from experience gained through the awful experience of several family deaths. Although I'm grateful for his insight (and willingness to be so vulnerable), one thing I am learning is that you have to be as true to yourself in grieving as in anywhere else in your life. I will take the things that feel true to me (if I can figure out exactly what that is) with gratitude.
One of the things John talked about was guilt. "Guilt is part of all this. It won't go away. It will be part of your life now. Don't try to get rid of the grief. Don't make excuses - for you - or for Greg. Don't waste energy trying to answer questions that have no answers. Nothing you can do or say or think - can bring Greg back."
So much of that feels true to me. I've heard from other people who have lost someone, that the guilt is the worst - and that it never goes away. I wonder if John is right - that the questions just eat at you. If I could go back and re-live my life (with my current life experience), there are many things I would do differently - but I can't go back. I can't save Greg. I don't know that I ever could, but it's too late now.
I have a lot to process. I think I need to talk to Woowoo about this one.
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