The Grief Season

This morning I woke up happy and tired because I stayed up too late watching Nurse Jackie episodes. I did everything as usual. Hit the snooze a couple times. Got up to feed the cats. Got my coffee. Read the Bible. Looked at the weather. Hoped for snow. Woke up my son. Fought to get him out of bed until I had to drag him out by his blankie.

He walked to his calendar with puppies on it and as he circled today's date, it hit me. I said, "Today is the day that Daddy and I got married." No comment from Mr. Pajamas. We went about our business of getting dressed and brushing teeth. And as I was making our lunches, I started to think about how long it has been since we got married, our wedding day, and everything R has missed since he died. Or maybe not missed, if he is hanging out with us in spirit. But his son certainly has missed his Daddy being there. And that is what pains me the most.

I found myself apologizing to him over and over. Hot tears streamed down my face. I'm sorry you have missed so much. I'm sorry you are not here. I'm sorry that we didn't communicate well. If you had just talked to me. I was supposed to be your BFF. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry... 
I know he wouldn't want me to keep apologizing, but it's just what is natural. What can I do now? What can I say now? Nothing. He is gone.

Suddenly I became angry. Angry as hell. Angry at everything. You did this to us. WHY? Do you see the hell that we have been through? Look at me! Trying to make a sandwich and crying all over it!

The only way to keep it in check is to remember WHY I am angry. It's grief rearing it's head again. I lost someone. It turned our lives upside down. We went through trauma. But things are finally starting to come together, looking like I really will get a new beginning after all.

And this is what I must remember. Grief will come and go. But, now I am healthy and happy. So healthy that I just recently came off of my anti-depressant medication. 3.5 years after his death. That's how long it took me. This is a big, huge deal! There was a point where I resigned myself to likely being on an anti-depressant for the rest of my life. When I realized how much of my energy it might be stifling, I wanted to get off of them, but not until I was ready. I have been trudging through everyday, one day at a time, trying to keep up with exercise and eating well and keeping positive thoughts. It takes discipline, I tell you.

We got married on January 20, 9 years ago. Life is so busy now that writing this blog might be the only time I get to sit and reflect today. But I have a feeling it will permeate my thoughts all day long.

I'm so glad the grief anniversary season is coming to an end. Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year's, the wedding anniversary, my son's birthday. All of this happens within 3 months. And then not too far off is Mother's day, and then Father's day. And not too long after that is the anniversary of his death. It never ends, really. There are memories not just in these special days, but the every ordinary day, too. Like making a sandwich. What is it about a sandwich? R used to come home for lunch everyday and while he was on his way home he would text me and ask me to make him a sandwich. And I happily did that for him, eager to spend a little time together during the day. Today it was a trigger for tears. Most days it's not; but today is just one of those days when grief gets intertwined with my new life.

Forgiving

Can we forgive ourselves? Is that really possible if you are a Christian? I believe in the Lutheran doctrine which says that God is the only one who can forgive us. R's death was a choice he made, and I know that intellectually. But there is still guilt. And what to feel guilty of if I was not the one to kill him? Lots of things: simply being alive while he is gone, what could I have done to stop him? (answer: nothing), why wasn't I able to save him when I found him? (answer: it was too late), etc...the list goes on and on. Some of these things are logical and some are not. Through all of my reading I have learned that with any kind of death there is guilt. It seems to be a criteria for the grieving process. And so what do I forgive myself of? Or what do I ask God to forgive me of? Whatever I can; for instance, anything I ever did to hurt R, not being able to help in some way, being angry at R, all kinds of things. Anger is one of the biggest issues I have. I get angry for the littlest, stupidest things and it is sometimes intrusive and inconvenient. Example: the other day I was happily walking my son into the YMCA for his swim lesson. It was twilight and a huge firetruck sat in the front entrance with it's lights flashing around. As I walked past the firetruck I was instantly transported back to that horrible evening when R decided to kill himself. When we found him it was twilight, the sky was the same color, it was damn near the same exact time of day, and after I called 911 there was a huge firetruck, ambulance and 2 police cars sitting in my front yard with the soft light of evening in the background. I sat on my front steps praying in a panic and wondering what in the hell to do with  my son at this moment. How to protect him? You cannot. You cannot protect your children from everything in the world. I think I had good instincts in keeping him with me, and explaining to him in very simple language what was happening. And back to my anger: walking past a firetruck is a simple task, right? Normally one  might wonder, what happened here? Is everyone OK? But not me. I think about how we came home and found him hanging there - and proceed to think, You son of a bitch. I can't even walk past a firetruck without thinking of what you did. How could you do that?! How could you do that to your son?! 

However, this truly is a process. And each time I am reminded of his suicide, the cut hurts a little less and a little less and I am able to move past it. Deep wounds do heal. It just takes time and care, like healing from a heart surgery. My chest was opened and worked on, and sewn back up again, but the true healing takes much longer with special care for months and months and maybe even years afterwards.