Monday, February 8, 2016

In the Rip Tide...a personal post

My Love

Everything reminds me of  you.  I hate that almost 10 months ago you died.  You said that you would die of this disease, that there was no way but down.  You even said that I may lose the house because of the expense of taking care of you. Thanks to your brother, I did not.  You told me to take care of myself.  I did not.  I did not want to.  I wanted to cry and eat chocolate and drink wine and to sit in the dark by that fake fireplace we loved so much.  I wanted to nap.  I wanted to pretend that you were still here.  I did not want to feel the pain and I still do not want to.  I exchanged my health for my fear and grief.  You knew I would.

I told you that I could not do it without you.  You told me that I already was doing it.  I told you that I was terrified with fear and loss even before you died.  You told me to never put my head where I had no control. You told me to always stay in the day.  I did not listen.  I cannot control my grief. You were my hero.  You still are. You suffered with such grace.  I do not have your grace.  I do not even have my own.

Before you died, Emily's man asked you for her hand...Happily, you gave it. You said you wanted money set aside for at least the wedding dress.  Today you bought it.  I helped our girl select it.  You were everywhere. Even in the  middle of joy I cried. You told me to go sew.  I have not been able to for a week or so.

My heart says that nothing matters anymore.   My mind says that it has to.  My heart says that I want to be with you.   God says I am not in charge.
You would still be so proud of Emily.  She is a huge help..She takes care of the paying bills online and taxes etc...while I cry. She teaches the children about health and takes them running.  Even though her grief is profound too.  The two of much alike.. She does not/cannot understand my despair. 

We both knew that grief would be worse the second 6 months.  That would be for others...I thought...not for me.  I would charge ahead being better faster.

I want to still see you for the delight that you were.  Instead I still see the suction machine, the breathing machine, the paralysis and the Hoyer lift.
I remember being furious that I could not get to you to kiss or hug you. Separating  you and me there were caregivers, hygiene matters, machines, bed rails and ALS.
I wanted to jump into the bed with you...Even if I could have done so with my arthritis, you could not have handled it. 

You were in pain and trying to die. I wanted you to live. We had different journeys.

Most of our friends have drifted off.  They are busy.  We knew it would be like this. No one knows that the pain goes on and on and on and gets worse before it gets better.
I am making some new friends in the widow groups. Nothing fixes this.  Nothing ever will.

Some days are better than others.  Lucky me has peeps everywhere....Pool exercise peeps, Naranon peeps, Quilting peeps, Friend peeps, Kids' school peeps..Blogging peeps, Widow group peeps.  It is really unbelievable., Out of nowhere, they come.  They bring love and they bring courage. 

The children are flourishing thanks to angels abounding...I take care of them, we have fun and we do the right thing.. They are learning that we take care of each other in this life.

I am struggling to see the light..  In my heart of hearts I know that there are good things ahead.. We will make it... God was right.  I am not in charge.

Still here...Still trying to do the very best I can, one foot in front of the day at a time..
Missing you....

Your Love


ES said...

Very touching words. Xx

Joanie's Trendy Quilts said...

Diane you are so real! Your words state what many may feel going through the grieving process but don't know how to say it. I have another close friend who lost her husband before Christmas. She too has the gift of writing and states what is on her heart, and yet courageously proceeds onward with life like you do. I miss seeing you. I haven't been to a quilt guild meeting for well over a year now. My accounting business really has grown and I find myself at times overwhelmed. Trying to find time to sew and quilt as it seems to be a great way to decompress and let go of things that trouble me. It sounds like you have many people in your life - that is a blessing! I think your husband was very wise but directing you to to trust God in all things. That has been a learning curve for me and He seems to have up the circumstances in order for me to learn it. Thank you always for sharing your heart. Is your widows group an organization or is it a group of friends that come together? Quilt hugs to you!!

Joye with an e said...

I have been reading your blog for a few years now and never have your words been so appropriate for my family situation than this post. My father passed away Feb. 3 and I am using your words to prepare me for helping my mother through the grief process. They were married 61 years and she has been his caregiver through his struggle with heart disease. Thank you for sharing and please know that I have thought of you often and hope one day that we may meet up at a quilt event (I live about an hour or so away from Charlotte, so who knows?). God bless you and your loved ones.

Karaquilts said...

Oh, Diane. Your pain is so deep and beautiful. Yes, beautiful. For if you had not loved and been loved with such a precious and wonderful love, your grief would be so much worse. But you have been ~~ and are ~~ loved and treasured. And you will continue to be loved and treasured. I am so thankful for the man you share with us. I love your words and poetry of emotion. You will shine again for others. hugs, dear one.

http://thankfullga447 said...

I am so glad you are expressing yourself on the blog and having this conversation. You were so in love with your man and I know you miss him terribly. You are trying and I know you are so grateful for all the help you have received.

Ellen Guerrant said...

Oh Diane, your words are so touching and heartfelt. When my father was dying, I (and Matthew) went home to stay with Mother until "it was over." Thirty-three years later, I still know it was never over for her. After the funeral, was when she needed us most. Shortly before my father died, I told him how terribly sad I was for him that he was going to lose his life. He said, "My journey is almost over. It's just beginning for you." How very true that turned out to be. Your writings are making people aware of the pain of losing a spouse, perhaps ways in which we can help, and that the " laying to rest" is just the beginning for those left behind. xo

Teresa said...

Thank you for sharing your heart with us. I have no great words of wisdom to share, just a hug and tears.