Today is a "David's Job" day. A David job is any task that was routinely done by the husband and dad of the house. Within the first week following his death I called a meeting of all living at home (me and the two boys)and we came to an agreement of who would be handling the "David jobs". It was agreed upon, with some reluctance from all involved that Jon would unclog the toilets, Stephen would kill the spiders and I would handle the trash. It seemed to work for about 30 days and then the boys returned to college and I was left to handle the "issues".
I really didn't know how many "David jobs" there were until they started popping up on a regular basis. Apparently David was the one who locked the doors and turned out the lights every night. He changed light bulbs. He changed all the clocks in the house when daylight saving time hit. I actually lived for the first two years without changing the clocks or locking the doors. It's not that the tasks were too difficult. I just didn't want to do it. It was a "David job". My sister moved in with me during year two and forced the issue. She doesn't live in houses that aren't locked at night. Go figure!
Well I share all that to point out that today is a "David job" day. This week will be the fourth anniversary of his death and I really thought that all these issues would be resolved by now. I now change the light bulbs and the clocks. I kill the spiders (well, OK I mostly shoo them away or pretend they're not there) and I empty the trash and handle simple plumbing issues all by myself. At some point I just assumed that the tasks that were once David's would become just routine and not be the reminder of loss and generator of grief that they have for the past three years.
Apparently I was wrong. Who knew?
Today I will be taking David's dad to the doctor. It's a monthly trip we make together to a large hospital in the area. Routine and not difficult for either one of us. David Job. After I return I will be spending some time in the front yard cleaning up limbs and debris from a weekend storm that blew through. I have some help coming but still...David job. Somewhere between doctors and lawns I will need to go on line and buy Tiger baseball tickets. David's dad loves the Tigers and he has his heart set on going to the series with Minnesota. For the past three years my boys have taken grandpa. A good time was had by all. The last family activity we all did together before David's death was go to a Tiger game. Well, both boys are not available this summer so I will be going with grandpa to the game. It will be a good time together but not as fun for either one of us without the boys. David job.
Then at some point today I will need to scoop up David's beloved cat, Fred and take him to the vet. Fred is 17 years old and failing fast. Today is the day. David loved that cat. Fred loved David and kept guard over him as the cancer robbed David of his strength and then his life. Fred is now in distress and the vet says it's time to let him go.
I am aware that some folks wonder why I still grieve four years after David's death. It's days like today that make it impossible NOT to grieve. I would have to be an unfeeling robot not to cry a few tears today. I've packed my purse with Kleenex and I'm giving myself permission to grieve today. The clueless bystanders who don't understand the need for grief will just have to remain clueless. I can't please everyone today and I've decided to give my attention to "David jobs". His dad and his cat loved David very much and have earned the right to be tended to.
Wow! What a heavy posting today! Sorry. Some days are just like that. What is surprising to me is that I really assumed these days would go away with time. I really didn't expect to still be grieving over the "David jobs" four years after his death. Now I realize that grief is not something you "get over". Grief is a life sentence you learn to manage. It gets less painful and less emotionally draining but it never really goes away.
OK. I could be wrong. Perhaps year 4 will be grief-free. Maybe year 5 will be a whole new day free of tears and "David jobs". I'm not counting on it. Does that sound less than encouraging? Sorry. I try to make our weekly meeting a positive and helpful time together. I also try to keep it real and honest. Let's just say today is really real.
In the midst of a day filled with "David jobs" and reminders of his absence in my life I am still thankful for all the days I had with David. I am thankful for the privilege of keeping my promise to him and taking care of his dad .... and his cat. Today I get to be David's wife and handle his "stuff". Even grief days can be good days too. - Well... sorta. I still have to say goodbye to Fred. Perhaps the only good thing about the day will be that it will be over before I know it. Some days you just do your best to get through it.
Next week I promise to tell funny stories and laugh with you. If you think of it, say a prayer for me today and for all who grieve. Some days are just.... awful.
Gotta get going. The only way through the day is through it. See you next Monday.
Karen PS - I am now posted at Wordpress- KarenPayneTableForOne.wordpress.com
Showing posts with label loss. Show all posts
Showing posts with label loss. Show all posts
Monday, June 21, 2010
Monday, April 26, 2010
It's About Time
We have a curious event in April in Michigan. We call it "daylight savings time" and what it basically does is cause all of us to change our clocks. Now we do this twice a year; spring and fall and I've had some difficulty remembering which way the clock goes - forward or back - pretty much every time the clock requires changing. Well, in April we move the clock forward and this means we lose an hour of sleep and that generally requires a good week or so for my body to make the adjustment. For a week or so nearly everyone in Michigan walks around tired and out of sort as their internal "body clock" makes the shift. I have no idea who thought this up but I wonder about the wisdom of it all. It also points out the reality that time really is a relative thing; an arbitrary construction of man.
I find it curious that in some cultures time is only marked by the sun - morning and evening and everything in between is just there. In our culture we are so time-centric that we strap little clocks to our wrists and program alarms in our cell phones to keep us ever aware of the time. What does all this have to do with grief?
We really are formed and informed by our culture and our western culture tells us that there is a time to grieve (preferably done in private so as to not upset others who really don't want to be confronted with such "negativity") and that time is as short as humanly possible. Anything over a year is pushing it and when you get into the third or fourth year, like I am, you are pretty much out of time.
Well-wishers will tell you that it's time to move on down the road and get on with your life. Look to the future and forget about all that loss and grief in your past. It's all behind you now so just get on with it! Wouldn't it be great if we could just take off grief like an old coat? It would be so much easier if at the one year anniversary of the loss of a loved one we could change our "grief clock" and put all that sadness behind us. We could "spring forward" into a new season of only happy thoughts and feelings. If anybody out there has a clock like that - let me know.
I have not found any grief-clocks. I've actually made the mental adjustments at key points along the way to attempt a "time change" from grief to anything better than grief. At the first anniversary of David's death - and then again at the second and third I set my mental clock forward. I gave it a good try at our 30th wedding anniversary and at my 50th birthday. I did my best to set my mental and emotional state ahead to brighter, springy days. I can't say that it worked all that well. Time is a relative thing; prone to change and subject to our whims and perceptions. Some days I am clearly living in "springy" thinking and other days I am falling back to grief's darker days. Grief does not work like a clock; always moving forward and making progress. Grief is all over the map; forward and backward and sometimes unmovable and stuck. It's all pretty relative.
So give yourself a break and take your time. There is no point in rushing through it because grief will do it's work in all of us according to its own good time. I think I'm making progress - but then again, tomorrow I may find it time to "fall back" again. I'm resolved to finish the work no matter how much time it takes.
Now if only I could get our culture to stop watching the clock and let grief keep its own time. Well, that's another topic and one that you and I are not able to change. so... tick tock... time's a wasting! I'm closing down the pink mini laptop and getting on with the day without any clue as to what "time zone" I'll be in today. Grief or gladness? Forward to new days, backwards to memories of great days with David? Probably all of the above in no particular order. That's the nature of grief. Whatever the day holds I am certain of one thing (really, I'm not certain of anything these days except for this!) God has my heart in His hand and He will help me through this day. He is with me. He is for me. -
He is with you too! He's not in a hurry - He's got all the time in the world and He's willing to spend it with you. Go God!!
Well, get on with the week - Time's a wasting!
I find it curious that in some cultures time is only marked by the sun - morning and evening and everything in between is just there. In our culture we are so time-centric that we strap little clocks to our wrists and program alarms in our cell phones to keep us ever aware of the time. What does all this have to do with grief?
We really are formed and informed by our culture and our western culture tells us that there is a time to grieve (preferably done in private so as to not upset others who really don't want to be confronted with such "negativity") and that time is as short as humanly possible. Anything over a year is pushing it and when you get into the third or fourth year, like I am, you are pretty much out of time.
Well-wishers will tell you that it's time to move on down the road and get on with your life. Look to the future and forget about all that loss and grief in your past. It's all behind you now so just get on with it! Wouldn't it be great if we could just take off grief like an old coat? It would be so much easier if at the one year anniversary of the loss of a loved one we could change our "grief clock" and put all that sadness behind us. We could "spring forward" into a new season of only happy thoughts and feelings. If anybody out there has a clock like that - let me know.
I have not found any grief-clocks. I've actually made the mental adjustments at key points along the way to attempt a "time change" from grief to anything better than grief. At the first anniversary of David's death - and then again at the second and third I set my mental clock forward. I gave it a good try at our 30th wedding anniversary and at my 50th birthday. I did my best to set my mental and emotional state ahead to brighter, springy days. I can't say that it worked all that well. Time is a relative thing; prone to change and subject to our whims and perceptions. Some days I am clearly living in "springy" thinking and other days I am falling back to grief's darker days. Grief does not work like a clock; always moving forward and making progress. Grief is all over the map; forward and backward and sometimes unmovable and stuck. It's all pretty relative.
So give yourself a break and take your time. There is no point in rushing through it because grief will do it's work in all of us according to its own good time. I think I'm making progress - but then again, tomorrow I may find it time to "fall back" again. I'm resolved to finish the work no matter how much time it takes.
Now if only I could get our culture to stop watching the clock and let grief keep its own time. Well, that's another topic and one that you and I are not able to change. so... tick tock... time's a wasting! I'm closing down the pink mini laptop and getting on with the day without any clue as to what "time zone" I'll be in today. Grief or gladness? Forward to new days, backwards to memories of great days with David? Probably all of the above in no particular order. That's the nature of grief. Whatever the day holds I am certain of one thing (really, I'm not certain of anything these days except for this!) God has my heart in His hand and He will help me through this day. He is with me. He is for me. -
He is with you too! He's not in a hurry - He's got all the time in the world and He's willing to spend it with you. Go God!!
Well, get on with the week - Time's a wasting!
Monday, March 22, 2010
Kill the Cat
I once had a cat named Tiger. He was a part of our household for 10 years. You notice I didn't say he was a part of our family. Not because we didn't care for him and make every attempt to make friends. Tiger just wasn't interested in making friends. He was an antisocial cat. Not evil or scary- he just had no real use for people in general and was prone to being "up close and personal" only when he wanted something from us. Come to think of it I know a few people like that - but I digress.
Well Tiger was a cat we rescued from the pound but the fact that we saved his life and gave him every luxery a cat could hope for was totally unimpressive to him. He came into our home with a sense of superior entitlement and never wavered from that general attitude. Come to think of it my kids resembled that same attitude from time to time. I digress again. Sorry.
Well, one fateful night about a year ago Tiger - who loved the great outdoors begged to be let out. He was a mouser! He would proudly catch mice and spit them out on the sidewalk for David (my husband) to find when he came home from work. David would always praise him and scoop up the dead rodent so I would not get all hysterical about it. A curious sidebar: When David died Tiger went through a year of mourning. For one solid year he caught not a single mouse. On the anniversary of David's death I came home to find a mouse on the sidewalk and Tiger close by waiting to see if I would reward him. I didn't. You get more of what you celebrate and I did not want to add scooping up dead mice to my daily routine. I did not however, scold him because he clearly had respected a widow's grief and his "master's" death- for one solid year! Pretty good for an antisocial cat! So Tiger went outside and somewhere in the woods he met his match. Some critter bigger and meaner than him got ahold of his tail and the wounds were pretty extensive. We rushed him to the vet and after examining him informed me that they could not put Tiger back together again. I gave them permission to end his suffering which seemed to be pretty intense. Now here's the thing I find quite strange.-
I did not like Tiger. He was generally more trouble than he was worth. He was a wining, annoying, antisocial cat. But when he died...I cried. Hard. Long. Loud. I asked my psychologist friend what that was all about. (sidebar: If you don't have a psychologist friend you should get one - they are useful!)She told me that it was not uncommon that a small loss- even years later- can trigger the same response as the larger loss. Feelings of loss trigger a floodgate of emotion that seem disproportionate to the situation. Displaced grief. My tears for Tiger were actually tears for David and memories of how he cared for Tiger - and for me. David loved Tiger. So I did my best to tend to the cat and scoop up his "trophies" and give him a humane death. It cost me $300.00 to "kill" the cat! Even in death Tiger was annoying!
Displaced grief overtakes me from time to time. I never know when it's going to strike or with what force. At least now I know whenever my emotions seem to be more intense than the situation calls for that it is normal. I'm not crazy or emotionally unstable - just grieving. And it does seem to get better with time. Then again, I still have Fred - our oldest and dearest cat who laid in David's lap during those last days of David's life. When Fred dies... it could get messy.
If you're dealing with some displaced grief - it's OK. It's annoying and confusing but you are not crazy and you will be OK... in time. Go ahead and cry or shout or whatever seems to help and then get on with life. I'm moving forward and I do manage a smile everyday as I walk up the sidewalk and don't have to stop for the rodent removal ceremony.
Hang in there.
Karen
Well Tiger was a cat we rescued from the pound but the fact that we saved his life and gave him every luxery a cat could hope for was totally unimpressive to him. He came into our home with a sense of superior entitlement and never wavered from that general attitude. Come to think of it my kids resembled that same attitude from time to time. I digress again. Sorry.
Well, one fateful night about a year ago Tiger - who loved the great outdoors begged to be let out. He was a mouser! He would proudly catch mice and spit them out on the sidewalk for David (my husband) to find when he came home from work. David would always praise him and scoop up the dead rodent so I would not get all hysterical about it. A curious sidebar: When David died Tiger went through a year of mourning. For one solid year he caught not a single mouse. On the anniversary of David's death I came home to find a mouse on the sidewalk and Tiger close by waiting to see if I would reward him. I didn't. You get more of what you celebrate and I did not want to add scooping up dead mice to my daily routine. I did not however, scold him because he clearly had respected a widow's grief and his "master's" death- for one solid year! Pretty good for an antisocial cat! So Tiger went outside and somewhere in the woods he met his match. Some critter bigger and meaner than him got ahold of his tail and the wounds were pretty extensive. We rushed him to the vet and after examining him informed me that they could not put Tiger back together again. I gave them permission to end his suffering which seemed to be pretty intense. Now here's the thing I find quite strange.-
I did not like Tiger. He was generally more trouble than he was worth. He was a wining, annoying, antisocial cat. But when he died...I cried. Hard. Long. Loud. I asked my psychologist friend what that was all about. (sidebar: If you don't have a psychologist friend you should get one - they are useful!)She told me that it was not uncommon that a small loss- even years later- can trigger the same response as the larger loss. Feelings of loss trigger a floodgate of emotion that seem disproportionate to the situation. Displaced grief. My tears for Tiger were actually tears for David and memories of how he cared for Tiger - and for me. David loved Tiger. So I did my best to tend to the cat and scoop up his "trophies" and give him a humane death. It cost me $300.00 to "kill" the cat! Even in death Tiger was annoying!
Displaced grief overtakes me from time to time. I never know when it's going to strike or with what force. At least now I know whenever my emotions seem to be more intense than the situation calls for that it is normal. I'm not crazy or emotionally unstable - just grieving. And it does seem to get better with time. Then again, I still have Fred - our oldest and dearest cat who laid in David's lap during those last days of David's life. When Fred dies... it could get messy.
If you're dealing with some displaced grief - it's OK. It's annoying and confusing but you are not crazy and you will be OK... in time. Go ahead and cry or shout or whatever seems to help and then get on with life. I'm moving forward and I do manage a smile everyday as I walk up the sidewalk and don't have to stop for the rodent removal ceremony.
Hang in there.
Karen
Monday, January 18, 2010
Lemonade
Good morning Monday Mourners!
This week I took my father-in-law, Clarence to the doctor. That's not all that interesting (usually), but this time it was quite different. It was an eye doctor about 30 minutes from home and Clarence, who's 85 and not seeing so well (thus the eye doctor)asked me to drive him. We'd been to this doctor many times and it always took about an hour. Okay, "always" is obviously too strong a word since this time it took us 5 hours. Yes! I said five. F-I-V-E.
What was amazing to me (besides the number 5) was my reaction to this. Instead of being anxious about the lost hours of productivity and the fact that I had missed at least one appointment and several deadlines; instead of becoming impatient and irritated at the pace; instead of complaining or worrying, I simply sat beside Clarence and enjoyed his company. My husband was an only child which, after his death three years ago, makes me Clarence's only child. So at the conclusion of the lengthy doctor's visit I dropped Clarence back safe and sound at his home and spent the rest of the afternoon wondering about my response. It seemed so atypical for me. I am not known for my patience. And yet I was amazingly calm and truly unconcerned about the unexpected delay and lost hours just sitting with Clarence.
It made me wonder why. The best I can figure it out death and grief have a way of changing us. At least it's changed me. I just don't seem able to get all that exercised about those things that used to irritate the stuffing out of me. Death and loss have a way of putting things into perspective. I often hear myself responding to the difficulty of the day with "hey, nobodies dying!". Death has changed me. I suppose that's not a bad thing. My new calmer, resigned attitude certainly helped Clarence and me get through a long day. Instead of becoming sour over the "lemons" we were handed, we chose to make "lemonade". It was actually sweet.
Some of the sweetness might have been the company. When David became sick he asked me to take care of his dad and spending the day with Clarence made me feel like I was still David's wife. I was doing "wifely" stuff that day and it felt good. Lemonade. This week I thanked God for lemonade and for the joy (yes, joy is the right word) of sitting in a doctor's office with Clarence. It was good for me and for Clarence. I know David would have been pleased and that too is worth thanking God for. Lemonade. It's all quite bitter-sweet.
That's a good description for this thing we call grief. All of life; every holiday and special event; even the daily routines become sweet and bitter at the same time. Bitter. Sweet. Lemonade.
This week I celebrated the sweet of being given an opportunity to do the "wifely" thing rather than complain about the bitter of 5 wasted hours. I chose to savor the sweet and overlook the bitter. It is a choice. This past week, I chose sweet and I've been thanking God for that. How are you doing with your "bitter"? Can you see the "sweet"? I know, sometimes it's harder to find the sweet but it's there. Ask God to help you see it. Maybe Clarence isn't the only one having trouble seeing. I pray you sip on lemonade this week every chance you get. I pray that for me too!
See you next Monday,
Karen
This week I took my father-in-law, Clarence to the doctor. That's not all that interesting (usually), but this time it was quite different. It was an eye doctor about 30 minutes from home and Clarence, who's 85 and not seeing so well (thus the eye doctor)asked me to drive him. We'd been to this doctor many times and it always took about an hour. Okay, "always" is obviously too strong a word since this time it took us 5 hours. Yes! I said five. F-I-V-E.
What was amazing to me (besides the number 5) was my reaction to this. Instead of being anxious about the lost hours of productivity and the fact that I had missed at least one appointment and several deadlines; instead of becoming impatient and irritated at the pace; instead of complaining or worrying, I simply sat beside Clarence and enjoyed his company. My husband was an only child which, after his death three years ago, makes me Clarence's only child. So at the conclusion of the lengthy doctor's visit I dropped Clarence back safe and sound at his home and spent the rest of the afternoon wondering about my response. It seemed so atypical for me. I am not known for my patience. And yet I was amazingly calm and truly unconcerned about the unexpected delay and lost hours just sitting with Clarence.
It made me wonder why. The best I can figure it out death and grief have a way of changing us. At least it's changed me. I just don't seem able to get all that exercised about those things that used to irritate the stuffing out of me. Death and loss have a way of putting things into perspective. I often hear myself responding to the difficulty of the day with "hey, nobodies dying!". Death has changed me. I suppose that's not a bad thing. My new calmer, resigned attitude certainly helped Clarence and me get through a long day. Instead of becoming sour over the "lemons" we were handed, we chose to make "lemonade". It was actually sweet.
Some of the sweetness might have been the company. When David became sick he asked me to take care of his dad and spending the day with Clarence made me feel like I was still David's wife. I was doing "wifely" stuff that day and it felt good. Lemonade. This week I thanked God for lemonade and for the joy (yes, joy is the right word) of sitting in a doctor's office with Clarence. It was good for me and for Clarence. I know David would have been pleased and that too is worth thanking God for. Lemonade. It's all quite bitter-sweet.
That's a good description for this thing we call grief. All of life; every holiday and special event; even the daily routines become sweet and bitter at the same time. Bitter. Sweet. Lemonade.
This week I celebrated the sweet of being given an opportunity to do the "wifely" thing rather than complain about the bitter of 5 wasted hours. I chose to savor the sweet and overlook the bitter. It is a choice. This past week, I chose sweet and I've been thanking God for that. How are you doing with your "bitter"? Can you see the "sweet"? I know, sometimes it's harder to find the sweet but it's there. Ask God to help you see it. Maybe Clarence isn't the only one having trouble seeing. I pray you sip on lemonade this week every chance you get. I pray that for me too!
See you next Monday,
Karen
Monday, January 11, 2010
Snow Days
Good morning Monday Mourners!
It's a lovely Monday morning in Michigan in January which means it's really cold and pretty much everything in sight is covered in snow. As with most of the nation this past week, I found myself holding a shovel - several times. Now shoveling snow is really not a complicated task. You push and you scoop. I am not too frail or impaired physically so as to make the job too difficult. I also have only a short sidewalk and porch that require snow-removal. Nevertheless, I hate the job! But I don't hate it for all the obvious reasons. It's not because it's too cold outside or the snow is too heavy or wet. (though snow is always cold and wet) I grew up in Michigan. Shoveling snow is part of the "gig". Here's why I hate shoveling snow:
It's a "David job". My husband of 27 years shoveled the snow. He would often gather the children to help (now there's someone who truly hates shoveling snow - any teenager). I did not shovel. Mom got a pass! My job was to have a cup of hot chocolate waiting for him when he was finished. Then David died about the same time as the kids hit college. Now shoveling is my job. And that's why I hate it. It's a "David job". Every time I pick up that shovel I am reminded of my loss. It's as though the shovel screams, "WIDOW!" with every scoop.
Three years later and the shovel still screams at me. So do light bulbs that need changing, spiders that need killing and changing the clocks twice a year when the time-zone changes (another Michigan oddity). All are "David jobs". I have been known to leave a burned-out light bulb in place for weeks before dealing with it. Light bulbs are not complicated. I just hate doing the "David jobs". They remind me of loss and force me to make adjustments I never wanted to make. And this is grief. It's constant - unyielding - and totally irritating. (and those are just the polite words)
So how do we deal with it? Well, on the first winter of grief I cried with every scoop of the shovel. I don't recommend you do that! Tears freeze. The second winter I got angry and yelled at the snow and at David for not being there to handle this mess. That was at least productive- the anger helped me shovel harder and faster.
This week the shovel screamed "WIDOW" and I pretended not to hear it and got the job done with little trouble or sadness. I guess you could call that "progress".
I have learned to do a little mind-exercise whenever one of these grief waves slaps me from behind. I quickly remind myself of the blessing of having a David to do those jobs for 27 years and I think about my sister and several close friends who have never married and spent all of those 27 years shoveling their own snow. God surely blessed me with a good husband and more than adequate snow remover for most of my adult life. I got no reason to complain. Complaining is a choice and, more than often, a simple issue of perspective. I make the choice to celebrate my blessings instead of stewing over my losses -even when the shovel screams at me.
"whatsoever things are true and noble and good and honorable and praiseworthy, think on those things." GOD
So how are you doing with all that? Where ever you find yourself today in the grief process there are still blessings worth celebrating. And it is truly helpful when we do. So if you can find the energy and the courage go ahead - celebrate what you have while you grieve what you've lost. It doesn't make the loss go away but it does make the "screaming shovel" a little easier to take.
My second cup of coffee has just been poured and so I'm done for now. I pray you have a good week. Yes, good weeks are possible even with grief.
See you on Monday. Let me know how you're doing with your grief. I cant fix it but I do know how to pray.
Coffee's getting cold! Karen
PS: At 9:00am - It's snowing....again!
PSS: At 11:00am - It's snowing...again!
It's a lovely Monday morning in Michigan in January which means it's really cold and pretty much everything in sight is covered in snow. As with most of the nation this past week, I found myself holding a shovel - several times. Now shoveling snow is really not a complicated task. You push and you scoop. I am not too frail or impaired physically so as to make the job too difficult. I also have only a short sidewalk and porch that require snow-removal. Nevertheless, I hate the job! But I don't hate it for all the obvious reasons. It's not because it's too cold outside or the snow is too heavy or wet. (though snow is always cold and wet) I grew up in Michigan. Shoveling snow is part of the "gig". Here's why I hate shoveling snow:
It's a "David job". My husband of 27 years shoveled the snow. He would often gather the children to help (now there's someone who truly hates shoveling snow - any teenager). I did not shovel. Mom got a pass! My job was to have a cup of hot chocolate waiting for him when he was finished. Then David died about the same time as the kids hit college. Now shoveling is my job. And that's why I hate it. It's a "David job". Every time I pick up that shovel I am reminded of my loss. It's as though the shovel screams, "WIDOW!" with every scoop.
Three years later and the shovel still screams at me. So do light bulbs that need changing, spiders that need killing and changing the clocks twice a year when the time-zone changes (another Michigan oddity). All are "David jobs". I have been known to leave a burned-out light bulb in place for weeks before dealing with it. Light bulbs are not complicated. I just hate doing the "David jobs". They remind me of loss and force me to make adjustments I never wanted to make. And this is grief. It's constant - unyielding - and totally irritating. (and those are just the polite words)
So how do we deal with it? Well, on the first winter of grief I cried with every scoop of the shovel. I don't recommend you do that! Tears freeze. The second winter I got angry and yelled at the snow and at David for not being there to handle this mess. That was at least productive- the anger helped me shovel harder and faster.
This week the shovel screamed "WIDOW" and I pretended not to hear it and got the job done with little trouble or sadness. I guess you could call that "progress".
I have learned to do a little mind-exercise whenever one of these grief waves slaps me from behind. I quickly remind myself of the blessing of having a David to do those jobs for 27 years and I think about my sister and several close friends who have never married and spent all of those 27 years shoveling their own snow. God surely blessed me with a good husband and more than adequate snow remover for most of my adult life. I got no reason to complain. Complaining is a choice and, more than often, a simple issue of perspective. I make the choice to celebrate my blessings instead of stewing over my losses -even when the shovel screams at me.
"whatsoever things are true and noble and good and honorable and praiseworthy, think on those things." GOD
So how are you doing with all that? Where ever you find yourself today in the grief process there are still blessings worth celebrating. And it is truly helpful when we do. So if you can find the energy and the courage go ahead - celebrate what you have while you grieve what you've lost. It doesn't make the loss go away but it does make the "screaming shovel" a little easier to take.
My second cup of coffee has just been poured and so I'm done for now. I pray you have a good week. Yes, good weeks are possible even with grief.
See you on Monday. Let me know how you're doing with your grief. I cant fix it but I do know how to pray.
Coffee's getting cold! Karen
PS: At 9:00am - It's snowing....again!
PSS: At 11:00am - It's snowing...again!
Monday, December 28, 2009
And It Came To Pass!
And a very Merry Monday Mourning to you all! It's time for the post-Christmas wrap-up. I actually winced a little as I typed the word "wrap". PLEASE! No more wrapping! This year our Christmas tradition changed quite a bit. I have entered the empty-nest stage of life (almost) with two of three children married and moved out of state. So the unwrapping stage of the holiday now takes 3 days instead of one. I'm not sure I like all this change. I am pretty sure that my not liking it isn't going to make it stop anytime soon so I best just "suck it up" and adjust.
Well in spite of the three-day process and the general exhaustion that comes with it the Payne family managed to all get in the same room at the same time for a little food and a lot of laughter not to mention some serious unwrapping. OK. There was more than a "little" food. We will be eating left-overs for several days. So before I make that mental shift and look forward to the new year and the promise that it holds, it seems appropriate, if not necessary, that I pause to reflect and give thanks.
Thanks for the joy of family - together - healthy and employed - loving and supportive. Family is good (even the gnarly parts) and God surely knew what He was doing when He dreamed up the family. I am thankful for three kids (now 5 due to marriage), one sister and a father-in-law. God has been good to me this week. Even in the midst of changes I'm still not all that happy with (two of three children live out of state and my husband now resides in heaven)I am blessed.
And in this little exercise of expressing gratitude for the blessings I have I think I just might be finding one of the keys to surviving loss. Perhaps it really is important that we give expression to what is "right" in our life at least as often as we stew about what's "wrong". My post-Christmas play-by-play will consist of the joys that I shared this past week instead of what was missing from the holidays. Yes, I missed having my husband with me as the kids opened their gifts. Yes, I missed sharing long-held family traditions now changed due to death and distance. BUT - I had a great time this Christmas and on this Monday Mourning I'm choosing to bask in the glow of "Christmas Present" instead of wishing for "Christmas Past". "Christmas Future" is next week's topic. Are you ready for New Year's resolutions and a fresh start? Yeah, me neither but it's OK. Just like Christmas it will "come to pass" and we will get through it just fine. Especially if we give more thought to the good and to what we have than to the wrong and what we've lost. God has been good to me. How about you?
Well this week we will all be busy - the tree needs to come down and the presents put away. The refrigerator will need to be emptied of all its contraband and more healthy stuff put in its place. But for today - I'm basking and having another sugar cookie! Go ahead. Bask. It will do your heart good. "Whatever is good...think on these things."
See you next year,
Karen
Well in spite of the three-day process and the general exhaustion that comes with it the Payne family managed to all get in the same room at the same time for a little food and a lot of laughter not to mention some serious unwrapping. OK. There was more than a "little" food. We will be eating left-overs for several days. So before I make that mental shift and look forward to the new year and the promise that it holds, it seems appropriate, if not necessary, that I pause to reflect and give thanks.
Thanks for the joy of family - together - healthy and employed - loving and supportive. Family is good (even the gnarly parts) and God surely knew what He was doing when He dreamed up the family. I am thankful for three kids (now 5 due to marriage), one sister and a father-in-law. God has been good to me this week. Even in the midst of changes I'm still not all that happy with (two of three children live out of state and my husband now resides in heaven)I am blessed.
And in this little exercise of expressing gratitude for the blessings I have I think I just might be finding one of the keys to surviving loss. Perhaps it really is important that we give expression to what is "right" in our life at least as often as we stew about what's "wrong". My post-Christmas play-by-play will consist of the joys that I shared this past week instead of what was missing from the holidays. Yes, I missed having my husband with me as the kids opened their gifts. Yes, I missed sharing long-held family traditions now changed due to death and distance. BUT - I had a great time this Christmas and on this Monday Mourning I'm choosing to bask in the glow of "Christmas Present" instead of wishing for "Christmas Past". "Christmas Future" is next week's topic. Are you ready for New Year's resolutions and a fresh start? Yeah, me neither but it's OK. Just like Christmas it will "come to pass" and we will get through it just fine. Especially if we give more thought to the good and to what we have than to the wrong and what we've lost. God has been good to me. How about you?
Well this week we will all be busy - the tree needs to come down and the presents put away. The refrigerator will need to be emptied of all its contraband and more healthy stuff put in its place. But for today - I'm basking and having another sugar cookie! Go ahead. Bask. It will do your heart good. "Whatever is good...think on these things."
See you next year,
Karen
Monday, December 14, 2009
Tis the Season
Well, here I am at my local diner with my coffee and my free newspaper sitting at my usual table for one. You can find me here most every Monday. The coffee is good and the paper is free. I know that makes me sound a bit like a senior citizen (which I am NOT) but it doesnt worry me enough to make me change my ways. Did I mention, the paper is free!
So I've read the news and downed two cups of coffee; I've read God's Word to get me in the right frame of mind to face the week ahead and I've turned on my lap top to spend some time with you and talk about... well what should we talk about in this, our first Monday Mourning together?
It's Christmas time. Tis the season of HO HO HO and Holly Jolly. I used to love Christmas. I would decorate everything and bake up a storm. I'd sing along with all the carols playing in every store- outloud. But these days I find the music mostly painful and don't seem to have the desire to decorate anything. The cause for this shift in mindset: GRIEF. My husband, David died of cancer 3 years ago after 26 years of marriage. I am now learning to live without my partner which I imagine feels a bit like trying to learn how to walk after losing a leg. It's doable but not preferable. But, like most events of our lives, I was not given a vote. Life happens and loss visits us all eventually. Mine just came a lot sooner than I expected.
Dont get me wrong. I still celebrate the true meaning of Christmas. I whole-heartedly express my gratitude for the birth of Christ. I am glad He was born in our world and in my heart. It's all the other stuff of Christmas that I find so difficult.
Shortly after David's death I went to a grief support group. They were pleasant enough people (as pleasant as grieving people can be at the holidays). The counselor seemed to be competent and compassionate. Then she said something that caused me to never return. I realize that is probably an extreme reaction to an isolated comment but when you're grieving you just dont have the nerves for foolishness. She said to this grief-stricken group, "It's only ONE day. Christmas is just a day and you can get through One day." It took every ounce of self control I had (another thing in short supply when you're grieving) not to jump out of my chair and shout, "ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND? Christmas is not just a day - it's a season. It starts the day after Halloween and lasts until Jan. 1st. You cant go anywhere or turn on your TV without being bombarded by "the season". I could get through a day. It's the season that's getting on my very last nerve!" And speaking of TV - if I have to listen to one more jewelry commercial where the couple fall into each other's arms and pledge they will be together...forever I'm going to SCREAM!
Do you know you cant even pump gas into your car without having to listen to those carols? Have you ever really listened to the words? Not the religous ones - I'm OK with those. It's all those secular "carols" that I find particularly brutal. There's, "I'll have a blue Christmas without You", and "I'll be home for Christmas", and my least favorite, "All I want for Christmas is You."
REally, what were those people thinking when they wrote those songs?
Tis the season! I am so thankful for the Christ of Christmas. He gives meaning and purpose to the season for me. I was reading today that familiar narrative of the first Christmas and I found a passage that has become my favorite scripture during these days. It starts off the story which seems to me to be an appropriate way for us to frame "the season". Luke 2:1 says, "And it came to pass in those days...". Jesus came in those days of oppression and poverty and taxation not to mention no indoor plumbing - and walked right into our mess - to change our mess forever. If it were not for Christ "those days" would never pass. Endless, meaningless days of loss would be all any of us could hope for. But because of Jesus and all the purpose and hope He brings into our world and into my life in particular we can face this "Monday Mourning" with the calm assurance that "it will come to pass." This season of mourning will pass just as surely as the season of HO HO HO will be replaced by a new year. And it came... to pass. Thank you Lord for the hope of brighter days. Perhaps next year I will be able to sing along with the "holly, jolly" crowd. I almost got out a HO HO HO while pumping my gas yesterday. So I will celebrate the reason for the season and look with great expectation for joyful days to come. God is good and I'm OK - most of the time. How are you doing? I'd love to hear from you- especially if, like me, your in the season of grief. Take a deep breath, give yourself a break. If you dont want to decorate or bake or sing along - it's OK. I understand. So does God. That's why He came. Tis the Season.
Karen
So I've read the news and downed two cups of coffee; I've read God's Word to get me in the right frame of mind to face the week ahead and I've turned on my lap top to spend some time with you and talk about... well what should we talk about in this, our first Monday Mourning together?
It's Christmas time. Tis the season of HO HO HO and Holly Jolly. I used to love Christmas. I would decorate everything and bake up a storm. I'd sing along with all the carols playing in every store- outloud. But these days I find the music mostly painful and don't seem to have the desire to decorate anything. The cause for this shift in mindset: GRIEF. My husband, David died of cancer 3 years ago after 26 years of marriage. I am now learning to live without my partner which I imagine feels a bit like trying to learn how to walk after losing a leg. It's doable but not preferable. But, like most events of our lives, I was not given a vote. Life happens and loss visits us all eventually. Mine just came a lot sooner than I expected.
Dont get me wrong. I still celebrate the true meaning of Christmas. I whole-heartedly express my gratitude for the birth of Christ. I am glad He was born in our world and in my heart. It's all the other stuff of Christmas that I find so difficult.
Shortly after David's death I went to a grief support group. They were pleasant enough people (as pleasant as grieving people can be at the holidays). The counselor seemed to be competent and compassionate. Then she said something that caused me to never return. I realize that is probably an extreme reaction to an isolated comment but when you're grieving you just dont have the nerves for foolishness. She said to this grief-stricken group, "It's only ONE day. Christmas is just a day and you can get through One day." It took every ounce of self control I had (another thing in short supply when you're grieving) not to jump out of my chair and shout, "ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND? Christmas is not just a day - it's a season. It starts the day after Halloween and lasts until Jan. 1st. You cant go anywhere or turn on your TV without being bombarded by "the season". I could get through a day. It's the season that's getting on my very last nerve!" And speaking of TV - if I have to listen to one more jewelry commercial where the couple fall into each other's arms and pledge they will be together...forever I'm going to SCREAM!
Do you know you cant even pump gas into your car without having to listen to those carols? Have you ever really listened to the words? Not the religous ones - I'm OK with those. It's all those secular "carols" that I find particularly brutal. There's, "I'll have a blue Christmas without You", and "I'll be home for Christmas", and my least favorite, "All I want for Christmas is You."
REally, what were those people thinking when they wrote those songs?
Tis the season! I am so thankful for the Christ of Christmas. He gives meaning and purpose to the season for me. I was reading today that familiar narrative of the first Christmas and I found a passage that has become my favorite scripture during these days. It starts off the story which seems to me to be an appropriate way for us to frame "the season". Luke 2:1 says, "And it came to pass in those days...". Jesus came in those days of oppression and poverty and taxation not to mention no indoor plumbing - and walked right into our mess - to change our mess forever. If it were not for Christ "those days" would never pass. Endless, meaningless days of loss would be all any of us could hope for. But because of Jesus and all the purpose and hope He brings into our world and into my life in particular we can face this "Monday Mourning" with the calm assurance that "it will come to pass." This season of mourning will pass just as surely as the season of HO HO HO will be replaced by a new year. And it came... to pass. Thank you Lord for the hope of brighter days. Perhaps next year I will be able to sing along with the "holly, jolly" crowd. I almost got out a HO HO HO while pumping my gas yesterday. So I will celebrate the reason for the season and look with great expectation for joyful days to come. God is good and I'm OK - most of the time. How are you doing? I'd love to hear from you- especially if, like me, your in the season of grief. Take a deep breath, give yourself a break. If you dont want to decorate or bake or sing along - it's OK. I understand. So does God. That's why He came. Tis the Season.
Karen
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