The Behavior of the Bereaved

A friend of mine posted this on her blog (Thanks Em). I've changed some of the wording to fit my situation. Just wanted to post this to give my friends and family some insight on where I'm at.

"Just when your friends may think you should be getting on with your life, a long period of sad reflection will likely overtake you. This is a normal stage of grief, so do not be "talked out of it" by well-meaning outsiders. Encouragement from others is not helpful to you during this stage of grieving.

During this time, you finally realize the true magnitude of your loss, and it depresses you. You may isolate yourself on purpose, reflect on things you did with your lost one, and focus on memories of the past. You may sense feelings of emptiness or despair".

I include this quote today as a gentle reminder to others that when a griever seems to want to be alone, that is perfectly normal and acceptable. It is nothing to do with you or what they think of you as a person. They are not trying to subtly tell you they dislike you or prefer the company of someone else. They are simply grieving and behaving normally for someone in that much pain. Sometimes being alone is the most helpful thing for them.

When the magnitude of the loss becomes too great, it can bring us to our knees. We need time to think, to ponder, to go over the details of our loved one's life and death over and over again in our minds until we can find some measure of resolution on some aspect of it.

Please understand that asking the griever to do the work - to call you or to stop by your place or to make the effort to socialize can seem overwhelming to them.

Even in times of isolation and sadness it is important to let the griever know you care. While they may not want to see anyone, a simple email, note, or phone call saying you are thinking about them and still care can make a huge difference.

Rather than looking at the griever's behavior and trying to decide if it is normal or not compared to your own, understand that they are in a position you cannot even imagine. Your ideas about what is normal behavior for them are misguided, at best. You may think you can imagine what you would do in their position but that is impossible. Instead accept them for where they are at knowing that their pain is too deep and overwhelming for you to understand without having walked in their shoes. Be the listener they need rather than the giver of advice. Each widow(er's) journey is different and there is no "right way" to grieve. Remember, they know far more about THEIR grief than you do, even if you have suffered a similar loss.

And above all, do not hold this behavior against them later on down the road. While you may never understand why they chose to be alone at certain times or why they seemed so sad for so long, their behavior was still completely normal.

The analogy that best sums up the grieving process is one which describes the journey as walking through a mountain range. As you climb one mountain, you feel normal, positive, and healed. But eventually, you must traverse the other side of the mountain. And as you climb down the other side, you feel isolated, sad, and pain. This process is repeated as you climb one mountain only to find another waiting for you. And then one day, you find that you have reached the end of the mountain range. And peace and resolution await.

As difficult as it may be, you must remind yourself that it is not about you. It is about the loss of their spouse.

The Over Forty Clan...

I had gotten into a video game called Call of Duty in the fall of 08. Being an older player, I went to the internet to get tips on how to play video games. After all, I was 43 years old. :) I went to the game maker’s forum to get some info and to post questions on how to play a first person shooter. After a few visits to the website, I noticed that there were some older players on the forums, just like me. We talked and decided that we should make a clan (which is a group of players who play the game together), called OFC (Over Forty Clan). I created a website for the clan and OFC was born. Over the coming months, the clan grew. It was amazing. The response was incredible and we were all having fun and acting like little kids again. I played almost every night after Chrissy and the kids were in bed. A member from Europe set up a server so we could talk to each other via the internet and headsets while we played. And then the fun really began. We laughed, talked about world events, and got to know each other while we played the game. As dorky as it sounds, it was alot of fun... And a time I will cherish until the day I die.

And then we got the news that Chrissy’s cancer had returned. My motivation for playing the game changed from that moment on. I played to distract myself from the pain..from the constant and unrelenting thoughts of what my life had become, and will become in the very near future... what life would be like without her. I played the game to escape, plain and simple. And that escape turned into something wonderful. I didn’t tell anyone but a couple of the original members what was going on with me. Because very few people knew about Chrissy at the time, the majority of OFC does not know how much they helped me during those dark days. They kept me sane during a very insane time. I am so thankful that I got a chance to know these wonderful people. The camaraderie, the jokes, the laughter… it literally saved me from the abyss. It kept me from falling into a hole whose depth I cannot even imagine.

Chrissy would make fun of me for playing the game, wearing the headset and talking to other OFC members while we played. She called me a big dork. :) But if she knew what these folks did/have done for me, she would know that it was really something very special. When Chrissy's health started to decline, I had to stop playing completely. I would log on every so often and play for 20 or 30 minutes. But I never played with the guys and gals of OFC again.

One day after Chrissy died, I got a letter in the mail. It was from the members of OFC...and there was a substantial check enclosed with said letter. They took up a collection and raised money for my kids. I cried for a half hour because these wonderful people, who I had never met, gave me faith...not in God, but in us...humans..people..but more importantly, faith in life. The world and people are not as bad as some people make it out to be. There are these random acts of kindness that fill our world and make an impact beyond words. And appreciating that…that the world is good…and life is good...is what it’s all about. We complain about those who don’t get it… I’d rather talk about those who do.

Which brings me to why I am posting this now. A couple of days ago, some of the guys from OFC kept telling me to go back and take a look at the website I created some two years ago now. They said "I wouldn't be disappointed". Well, I finally did last night. What I found sent me back to the same place I was when I opened that letter. The members of OFC changed all of their user names for the website and their in game names to pink in honor of Chrissy and Breast Cancer Awareness month. Needless to say, I cried again. However small the endeavor...it's these little things that can make a huge impact. And it did.

There are over 200 members of OFC now. We have members across Europe and North and South America. When I started OFC, there were about 5 of us. I'm convinced that the reason it has grown is not because of me, but because it is something special. It is family. We are family. OFC is my family. I hope that I can live up to the standard they have set. I hope that I can be there for them in the same way they were there for me. Because they have shown me what life is about... And that all we can do is be there for each other when we need it... And that my friends, is what it is all about.

Thank you OFC.

It is done

Yesterday marked a milestone in my grief journey, and it was bittersweet to say the least. Chrissy had always wanted some home improvement projects done to our house over the years, and we just never had the time or money to do them. With the life insurance money, I decided to make sure that every single project she wanted done was completed. These projects included new outside lighting, a huge patio in the backyard, new landscaping, new kitchen floor, updated indoor lighting in all of the rooms, and painting several rooms throughout the house.

Yesterday, I planted some new plants in our new retaining wall in the front. She always wanted a japanese maple like at her old house and new bushes. As I looked back on everything I did this last year, I cried. I wish she was here to share all of this with me. I so badly want to see that excited grin on her face, and that sparkle in her eye as she saw all of these improvements. And I had no one to share it with. Just me. And it didn't bring me any peace at all. I'm glad I finished her to-do list, but without her it is an empty victory.

All of these projects have been great therapy. It has kept me busy over the last 10 months and made me feel like I was honoring her. But the bigger question now haunts me. What now?

Fuck Cancer

We lost another woman to breast cancer today. And all I have to say is fuck cancer.

For C.

I'll sing it one last time for you
Then we really have to go
You've been the only thing that's right
In all I've done

And I can barely look at you
But every single time I do
I know we'll make it anywhere
Away from here

Light up, light up
As if you have a choice
Even if you cannot hear my voice
I'll be right beside you dear

Louder, louder
And we'll run for our lives
I can hardly speak I understand
Why you can't raise your voice to say

To think I might not see those eyes
Makes it so hard not to cry
And as we say our long goodbye
I nearly do

Light up, light up
As if you have a choice
Even if you cannot hear my voice
I'll be right beside you dear

Louder, louder
And we'll run for our lives
I can hardly speak I understand
Why you can't raise your voice to say

Slower, slower
We don't have time for that
All I want is to find an easier way
To get out of our little heads

Have heart my dear
We're bound to be afraid
Even if it's just for a few days
Making up for all this mess

Light up, light up
As if you have a choice
Even if you cannot hear my voice
I'll be right beside you dear

Listen to the song here:
Run (Revised Album Version) by Snow Patrol

It's been awhile...

I haven't updated this for some time.  I think it's because I've been too busy to deal with "stuff".  Destin was a hard trip.  So many memories of good times and reminders of the person that is no longer with us.   I think it was important to go, but I'm looking for a different vacation spot for next year. I guess this is just part of moving on.   The weather was terrible and I think Chrissy was telling me to not come back.   Move on with your life.  Build a new one with the kids.   So I shall.

Frankie has really turned the corner.  His anger is still present, but to a much lesser degree.  He is returning to the happy go lucky kid I knew before "cancer".   I'm sure he will regress, as I still do...but there is progress.  Maria on the other hand is really feeling it now.  She is so attached to me.   I called a grief counselor and she noted this was very normal.  That a child will become very attached to the remaining parent.   She said give it some time.  She needs to work through this.   Let her know she can talk about it, but don't push.   So I've relented and I am giving her the space she needs to deal with the issue. 

I have good days and bad days.  I'm so tired of the day to day grind.  Just trying to keep up with life is exhausting, and then raising two kids by yourself..well..I'm sure you understand.   But I keep moving forward.  I owe it to my kids.  It really feels like an eternity since she died.  I'm dealing with what I've lost right now.  I was on auto-pilot before, but now I'm dealing with the loss itself.  The person I have known and loved for 27 years is gone.  I will never see her again, never hold her, never kiss her or make love to her again.   And that thought hits me in the gut like a sucker punch.  It knocks the wind out of me. 

This is such a strange journey.   I've experienced loss in my life.  My father dying in front of me when I was 7 years old, my mom, and even though I am too young to remember, my sister Debbie.  But this is so very different.  Because Chrissy was apart of me.  I've lost my identity.  Who in the hell am I now?  Will I find new love or another relationship?  Or am I the person who just needs to focus on his kids for the rest of my life.  I don't know what I am supposed to do.  

A friend gave me some advice.  She is also a single parent.   She told me that the thing people don't realize is in order to be a good single parent, you have to take care of yourself too.  You have to have fun, and experience life, and make new connections.   It's good advice.  But I feel like a traitor to my kids.  Like I am putting my needs ahead of theirs.   It's very confusing to say the least. 

The one thing I pride myself on is that I am rock solid dependable.  I'm really not good at the little things, like remembering birthdays, or picking up a card when a friend is feeling low.  Maybe that's just a man thing :). But when push comes to shove, and I feel that a wrong is being done, I will step up and make it right.  I don't ignore problems and hope they will go away.  I attack them.  I don't wallow in pity nor do I cry "poor me". 

But I must say, this puzzle has me stumped.  I'm caught in between the rational and irrational.  And it's a cold dark place to be.

5 Things in 5 Months..

I'm 5 months out now. I don't have the answers but I have learned some things.

1. I've learned that this sucks. I miss her. But I am moving forward, one step at a time.

2. I've learned that I have to quit chasing the sunset. (See earlier blog post).

3. I've learned how to say thank you. People are good. We tend to focus on the negative people and forget about those who do care for us in our time of need.  We always seem to think god is behind it, but I think we are underestimating how good we can be of our volition.  That gives me hope for our species.

4. I've learned that it's a rollercoaster. As I go down a hill, I am also gaining speed so I can make it up the next hill.

5. I've learned that my children are suffering in ways that I can't imagine. No one, including myself,  is hurting more than my children.  Thier pain hurts me, but thier smiles make live worth living.