Friday, December 4, 2009

Doors

It's been a rough week; I'm not sure why.

I'm still struggling with quiet time. There's been a lot of it lately. I'm still unaccustomed to not being needed all of the time. The girls kinda do their own thing in the evenings, leaving me with more free time than I can remember since college. It doesn't take long for my thoughts to settle on him.

I contine to feel like I'm making progress in my grief. I'm a little frustrated too. I feel like I'm in some Hitchcockian movie, trying to walk through an endless progression of doors. I work and struggle and sweat my way through picking the lock or figuring out how the door works, and when it finally opens there is relief, and a sense of progress, and....another locked door.

I'm not sure where I think I'm supposed to be, but I'm continually surprised that I'm here. It's like every day, sometimes every hour, my brain grapples again with the fact that he's gone. My son, my smart gorgeous funny healthy son got cancer. Oh my god, he got cancer. And then he got chemo, and infections, and a central line, and TPN, and radiation, and then the goddamn thing came back and he died. Oh my god, my son died.

Over and over and over.

Is this the denial people talk about? I always thought of that more in a literal way, where you really don't believe something happened. But I do feel at some level I haven't accepted it...

14 comments:

Anonymous said...

Why would a non-theist use the term "Oh my god"...???

Kelly said...

(...because it is a common term used by everyone.)

I'm so sorry it has been a rough week. I'm thinking of you.

rebecca said...

seriously anonymous, it's a common, non-literal exclamatory phrase. are you freaking kdding? (and that's sarcasm)

kg said...

Of course on some level you haven't accepted what happened---your son's illness and death are simply unacceptable. True, they did happen and you are a witness to that. It's a lot to deal with.
One step at a time.

AK said...

This is an awful time of year to miss loved ones. A good friend of mine passed away a few years ago and to this day i still miss her terribly. Be with those whom you still can, ma'am.

---------------------

Everyone - people of faith, people not of faith and all those in between - is still entitled to his/her opinion, isn't it?

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I must have read this silly book 15+ times over the past few years. Like it a lot.

http://www.amazon.com/Chicken-Soup-Grieving-Soul-Overcoming/dp/1558749020

Anonymous said...

Your son sounds like such a lovely person, it is not hard to believe that the horrible things all of you suffered are hard to accept. Thinking of you.

OHN said...

It almost seems like a PSD "flashback" type of thing for awhile.

Please don't rush yourself in acceptance. It will come with time. You have survived the most horrid of all losses and with time it will become a little less shocking.

And..by all means, ignore trolls like the anonymous commenter. Some people can't seem to focus on real issues...why is it they are always "believers" (I always thought that meant compassionate, caring, loving etc etc).

rlbates said...

and you don't miss him any less just because you still have your two girls...

Take care.

ADB said...

Grief is something that never stops. It lessens. At this time of the year, it does tend to resurface. I recognise it only too well

...tom... said...

...

... and when it finally opens there is relief, and a sense of progress, and....another locked door.


Makes me think of The Twilight Zone ...but same principle.


The loss of a child is more about the loss of the future than the past. You will be reminded of that loss every day for a long, long time. I doubt its shadow will ever fall far from you.

That does not mean it will not lessen, becoming more . . .'tolerable' than terrible.


To the sun in your face and shadows behind you.


...tom...
.

socks said...

I keep thinking that there is something of real truth behind the "wearing black for one year of grieving" tradition of old.

And I keep hoping that magically, on February 25, 2010, your grieving (and ours) will take a different turn and will allow a new "comfort" level with our loss, if there is such a thing.

You watched your son face his future with strength and bravery that you didn't think possible of a 3 year old. And you suffered his pain - with him and for him, wishing you could relieve it.

Likewise I suffer yours - with you and for you, wishing I could relieve it.

Anonymous said...

I feel that the thoughts that reoccur over and over again is because I have this gaping hole in my heart where my daughter is supposed to be. She has been gone for 13 years. The gaping hole is not as raw as it once was, but it is always there. My want for her to be here does not wane at all. I also think that this time of year makes you think of family more.
What has happened is not fair and it never will be. I am sorry that this has happened to you. I am sorry that this has happened to Henry. I wish that I could do more/say more.

StorytellERdoc said...

My heart aches for your pain. The poignancy and honesty in your writing is tremendous. I hope you continue to find a path to better times.

May your memories sustain you.

littleharves said...

i think it was more likely to be ptsd, quite common when you watch your child suffer through illness and then watch them die, kept me awake for hours every night xxx anne