Saturday, June 27, 2009

Quiet

I miss the quiet.

Rather, I miss enjoying the quiet.

I've always loved quiet, early morning cups of coffee, or sitting along at the pool and daydreaming, or watching a fire crackle.

It's always been great thinking time for me, I could turn off my conscious thoughts enought to let my mind wander to less trodden paths, get new ideas, remember old ones.

Now my mind wanders about as well as a dog with a next door bitch in heat.

Sometimes I remember good things, happy things about him, that make me smile. They still hurt though, and I can only do it for so long before the mood of the memory shifts to pain and grief. More often my mind replays painful memories, the bad times in the hospital, the times I regret how I responded to him, the early signs of his illness. And very often his death. The last 60 seconds of his life. It was a quiet and peaceful death, overall, but such a traumatic memory for me.

Sometimes when I'm feeling strong I'll replay it over and over in my mind, hoping that my brain just needs to get through it a certain number of times before it can let it go, but so far it hasn't worked.

What used to be a solace is now a problem for me. I really can't be in the quiet very long. I think this is a big reason of why work has been so enjoyable to me lately...for the most part I'm too busy to dwell on anything. Fortunately, my work setup is such that I can't work more than my regularly scheduled hours, so a pathologic escapism is not an option for me, but geez do I see how some people do that.

I feel like I no longer plan ahead, dream of the future, like trips, projects, life changes. Maybe that's because of the grief, or our family's recent life where we couldn't plan more than 24 hours ahead for anything. I don't feel like I'm coasting, but I'm definitely just riding in the old ruts, not really looking around much.

But I wonder too if it's because I can't just be anymore.

5 comments:

OHN said...

There is a very old saying that I used to hear from the older folks when I was young. 'An idle mind is the devils playground', and it took me until I was an adult to understand.

When things are too still, your mind replays the worst events of your life on a ridiculous loop that never seems to stop.

Your family has a new "normal" that it will take some time to program into your mind and get that loop to start.

I hope it happens very soon for you.

...tom... said...

...

I don't feel like I'm coasting, but I'm definitely just riding in the old ruts, not really looking around much.

Perhaps you need to challenge yourself beyond your 'old' norms, your old 'ruts'..?? Even with what must already be a busy schedule.


I know in the medical treatment area there are always opportunities for volunteer work. Or youth social areas or youth sports. Whatever.

Perhaps something as little as an hour or two a week might open a whole new vista on life for you. Perhaps knowing someone is counting on _you_ for these two hours this week and next week might have some meaning for you.


As always, just a thought.


...tom...
.

Anna said...

Your feelings sound like grief to me. While I'm sure the 4 months without Henry seem like 4 years, you couldn't possibly be expected to feel okay or to be looking forward to a future -- a future that won't include him -- this early on.

As you said, just keep going.

Taking Heart said...

Tom is clever.

Taking the time to reflect, cry, weep, mourn... to remember the ugly... and to remember the beautiful.

I'm sure that is all part this new chapter for you, and as time presses forward... as wounds change their appearances... you may be able to give of yourself to someone in need... and though it won't change your reality... it may give you more strength to embrace the "quiet."

Anonymous said...

Beautiful writing as always. I am so sorry for your loss.

Your love for your son shines through as something so painful right now but something so deep and forever and beautiful, too.

Patti