I’ve had lots going on in my head over the past seven weeks since my Mother died and I’ve not known what to do with those goings on. I wrote a letter to an old friend who I don’t see often anymore to explain it. Here is that letter:
The last seven weeks have been rough. In a lot of situations I feel like I have a pretty good idea of what to expect with how I’ll feel and how I’ll handle something. This hasn’t been like that. I’m not even reacting the way I usually do to normal stuff anymore. There hasn’t been a moment where I’ve just crumbled in tears and had some big emotional outpouring. There’s been many small moments and there’s been an almost constant undercurrent of unhappiness.
The first few weeks I was truly in a fog. I knew that I was in a fog but being aware of it didn’t change it. That first week after my mother died…it’s like I have amnesia. That week is mostly gone to me. Even now I’m still not usually fully engaging with the moment I’m in. I am in my head. For Shannon, that’s probably the worst. I’m just away even though I’m right here.
And the kids are a double-edged sword. They snap me out of it. They keep me living my life. They keep the ball rolling. But they require a lot of patience and emotional energy that have been difficult for me to come by. A couple of weeks ago I had a Thursday off and then was scheduled to work Friday afternoon, Saturday, Sunday, and the day shift on Monday. I just didn’t think I could take anymore from the kids after that Thursday. I fully intended to leave for work the next day and not come home until I was done with work on Monday. I had nothing left and knew that there was a strong potential for me to just make things worse. But the kids had Field Day that Friday morning and I had agreed to volunteer. I’d never been able to attend Field Day before and even though I really did not want to go I knew I’d be letting down all the kids in the school, not just my kids. So I went with Shannon and the first few classes of kids we saw weren’t our kids’ classes. That gave me a chance to warm up to it all. We were running the three-legged race. We know kids in almost every class at that school. We were outside. It was a beautiful day, just the right temperature. It ended up being good for me and by the time we saw our kids I was happy to see them again and glad I was there. Field Day didn’t fully rescue me but it gave me enough to get through that weekend of work. If I was lost at sea just holding onto a log it was like finding a bigger log to hold onto. I wasn’t rescued but I was better afloat.
I am often feeling like I’m not doing very well. Or at least not as well as I’d like to be doing. But then I try to think of all the things we’ve accomplished and sifted through since my Mother died and it seems like maybe I’m doing ok but then it still doesn’t feel like it. Rationally, I can explain to myself that things are ok and I am on top of everything but it doesn’t actually make me feel better. I haven’t fully lost my shit. I haven’t attacked anyone or done anything too regrettable. I’ve been pretty well composed and have been methodically taking care of my Mother’s affairs as well as I can. But it’s not satisfying. It still feels bad. It still doesn’t feel like I’m doing very well. I take no joy in any accomplishment. No sense of closure when I cross something off the to do list.
The things that I normally enjoy are just kind of blank feeling. It’s like there’s an aching numbness to me. Those two words don’t mean the same thing but it still feels right to describe it that way. The waves of nausea that would hit me when I’d look at a picture of my Mother are gone now. I can function normally and laugh at funny things and even say funny things but that slow steady aching numbness is always there underneath the surface easily revealed.
Even dealing with other peoples’ condolences and expectations has been strange. It turns out that a lot of people look at someone else’s loss and grief through the eyes of their own loss or the idea of their own loss. Most people aren’t able to offer condolences or support without their own bias getting in the way. People have an idea of what grief looks like or an idea of how I’d be feeling. But their ideas haven’t matched up with what I’ve been experiencing and feeling. I’ve tried to take that in stride. I’ve recognized it and not been upset or offended. I’ve tried to be supportive to them because I know their intentions were to support me. But it adds up and takes its toll. It’s more to deal with, more emotional energy to spend. Eventually, I chose to be selfish. I chose to protect my small reserves of emotional energy. To save that energy for my own grief and for dealing with my kids. Shannon stepped up and dealt with the other humans for me so I could be left to just handle the tasks.
We are coming closer to being done with my Mother’s affairs. We emptied her apartment and left it for the last time two days ago. A few more phone calls, emails, and faxes and I’ll probably be done. We still have some things from her apartment at our house to sell or give away. But soon the steady stream of extra things that need to get done will just be a trickle. I’ll be left with the normal stream of things: my wife & kids, my house, its maintenance & little projects that go along with it, my job, our finances & bills and everything else that we try to fit into our lives.
And then what? I imagine that I will be better equipped to deal with this grief when I am not cluttered up by all these extra things that need to be done. But the suddenness and unexpectedness of my Mother’s death is not going to change. It’s like falling off a cliff that you didn’t see in front of you. There really is value in preparation. I was unprepared for this. I was careless with my love for my Mother and thought there was plenty of time left between us.
A few weeks ago when I felt like I was truly at my limit I wondered what to do. I realized that I could move my limit. I could grow and be able to take on more and feel more pain and find more patience. I could accept the challenge and respond to it instead of being knocked over by it. I think that was a good response to a bad feeling but it doesn’t really change what I’m left to deal with. I feel like there’s been a slow unraveling of this thing that has happened and it will continue to slowly unravel as I move on. All my thoughts and feelings about my Mother, about losing her so quickly with no warning will continue to slowly unravel at a pace that I can not control.