I've always been really good at putting myself in other people's shoes. It may take me a few moments... but if I actually have a few moments in the day, I can find my mind easily drifting to another time, another life... another pair of shoes.
When I was younger (and embarrassingly enough, even to this day) I would act out conversations, situations, drama and actual events in the bathroom or in front of the bedroom mirror. I would usually "act" and voice out all parts of a conversation. But they were usually mostly monologues anyways. Where I get to indulge totally high-ego style... like someone was interviewing me for a documentary... about me. Chances are, if I'm nervous or excited about a particular conversation or interview that I'm about to have, I will have already acted it out while taking a bath or driving to the grocery store.
That being said, it is really rooted in my desire to feel "prepared". But this past year I've been fraught with one particular "scene" that I cannot make peace with. I cannot squeeze the fear out of this event to come by rolling it over and over again in my head like a remake of Groundhog Day. I try to imagine it, I try to even breathe and hold my posture or imagine what my body might be feeling when this particular thing comes.
This thing I keep thinking about is my own death.
I guess it doesn't help to think of it... but for some reason with the loss of my son I cannot help but ponder this crazy burdensome thing no less than once per day. I will often replay my memory of bearing witness to my father's passing. And I will hypothesize on how I might find myself in the moment which is to be my last.
My imagination reaches through the visual and the sensory and begins to unearth a strange kind of fear. A panic rises up in my gut... but I can always catch myself a few seconds into the panic.
"Listen, where are you?" I ask myself.
"I am driving in the car." I tell myself.
"Good, are you alive?"
"Yes, I am alive."
"Then don't think about death until you need to, Ok?"
"Ok I will try."
Next I will usually take a deep breath and try to shake off the heeby-jeebies, turn the music to something upbeat and focus on the world around me.
Focus on the world around me. And that's the gist of what I've been doing lately. Trying my best to absorb myself in work, friends, movies, videogames, my husband and our doggie. Every-so-often I have a few minutes of "quiet" and my mind drifts to Wolfie, and then to death. Maybe the void of our loss pulls me in. Maybe it is too difficult to keep it away from my own imagination. "Try not to think of it, " you may say. It just isn't going to happen that easily.
We are coming up on the one year mark next month. I'm still not sure what to expect emotionally. Wolfie was born on April 30th. And he passed on May 5th. And then mother's day falls on the 13th this year. I don't know if I should hibernate, try to distract myself or just wait and see... but for sure it will probably be difficult for me to communicate about it directly with anyone. So, I apologize in advance to anyone if I seem distant or absent emotionally.
There really are a lot of great things happening in my life right now and most of the time I'm totally focused on those things. As always, there's a give-and-take and I do my best to sort through the pieces. Don't we all?
When I was younger (and embarrassingly enough, even to this day) I would act out conversations, situations, drama and actual events in the bathroom or in front of the bedroom mirror. I would usually "act" and voice out all parts of a conversation. But they were usually mostly monologues anyways. Where I get to indulge totally high-ego style... like someone was interviewing me for a documentary... about me. Chances are, if I'm nervous or excited about a particular conversation or interview that I'm about to have, I will have already acted it out while taking a bath or driving to the grocery store.
That being said, it is really rooted in my desire to feel "prepared". But this past year I've been fraught with one particular "scene" that I cannot make peace with. I cannot squeeze the fear out of this event to come by rolling it over and over again in my head like a remake of Groundhog Day. I try to imagine it, I try to even breathe and hold my posture or imagine what my body might be feeling when this particular thing comes.
This thing I keep thinking about is my own death.
I guess it doesn't help to think of it... but for some reason with the loss of my son I cannot help but ponder this crazy burdensome thing no less than once per day. I will often replay my memory of bearing witness to my father's passing. And I will hypothesize on how I might find myself in the moment which is to be my last.
My imagination reaches through the visual and the sensory and begins to unearth a strange kind of fear. A panic rises up in my gut... but I can always catch myself a few seconds into the panic.
"Listen, where are you?" I ask myself.
"I am driving in the car." I tell myself.
"Good, are you alive?"
"Yes, I am alive."
"Then don't think about death until you need to, Ok?"
"Ok I will try."
Next I will usually take a deep breath and try to shake off the heeby-jeebies, turn the music to something upbeat and focus on the world around me.
Focus on the world around me. And that's the gist of what I've been doing lately. Trying my best to absorb myself in work, friends, movies, videogames, my husband and our doggie. Every-so-often I have a few minutes of "quiet" and my mind drifts to Wolfie, and then to death. Maybe the void of our loss pulls me in. Maybe it is too difficult to keep it away from my own imagination. "Try not to think of it, " you may say. It just isn't going to happen that easily.
We are coming up on the one year mark next month. I'm still not sure what to expect emotionally. Wolfie was born on April 30th. And he passed on May 5th. And then mother's day falls on the 13th this year. I don't know if I should hibernate, try to distract myself or just wait and see... but for sure it will probably be difficult for me to communicate about it directly with anyone. So, I apologize in advance to anyone if I seem distant or absent emotionally.
There really are a lot of great things happening in my life right now and most of the time I'm totally focused on those things. As always, there's a give-and-take and I do my best to sort through the pieces. Don't we all?
sweet friend....i love you and am going to continue to pray for you through these times. there with you in spirit. xoxo
ReplyDeleteRegarding thoughts on death: I think as a mother, it's hard not to have that conversation with yourself, no matter where your children are. I have a lot of anxiety over it some days. What you said about "focusing on the world around me" seems like a good perspective. I have a problem getting caught up with these things in my head, then I worry and dwell, and get swept away with my thoughts. It's hard not to get sucked into the mystery, but I do need to remain present to the world around me. It's what I know; what God has given me to work with right now.
ReplyDeleteRegarding Wolfie: I've been thinking about him a lot. With spring just around the corner, it's hard not to. I'll be thinking of you and Ben and praying big prayers for you during this time. I know it will be a time full of complex emotions. I pray that you can gracefully work through each day and that God will be merciful. Love you guys.
I resonate with what you are saying about death, thoughts of death, etc. and also with the comment above about how relationship (with child, with spouse, with parents) make those thoughts of death even more scary. I think my own thoughts and fears of death or losing people I love come from my mother's parents death when she was twelve. Her parents died in a plane crash, and she woke up in the morning expecting them to be there (back from a missions church visit in michigan), and they weren't. There were policemen in her house instead. When I was little I used to ask my mom to tell me about her parents all the time. Tell me stories, tell me what she remembered. I never realized how much I had internalized those stories, and how afraid I had become that that would happen to me. I still get really panicky when my husband says he will be home at a certain time and then he isn't back exactly when he says. Or whenever we aren't in the same place.
ReplyDeleteThank you for sharing your heart so candidly here in this space. To all of us who grieve, and we will all grieve in this life, the grief that is shared is not necessarily lighter, but maybe more bearable?
You are brave. "Courage, dear heart" (aslan)
You are loved. Sorry I can't offer more - and I know that words are insufficient, but this is what I feel led to give.
I don't know you... But I followed your story and as it unfolded last year. My heart broke and I wept for your loss. I have been thinking about you lately and wondering how you are doing. You are in my thoughts and prayers!
ReplyDelete