the grief chronicles 3.
I think there is an unusual amount of stamina required when experiencing a life event of loss. And I cannot imagine going through these past two years without the support of my husband, Peter and my two girlfriends, Lana and Shawna. It is very clear that we all bring different types of support to the table and I am very aware that I need them all.
I feel very fortunate to say that when I was called back for our last hurrah, I felt literally carried by all three of these people: Peter's words of wisdom on the drive to the airport, being picked up on the other end and having all the physical comforts waiting for me: heating pads, blankets, couch and food (not to mention L +S's comforting presence).
We were always like this, though. Sometimes we were rougher around the edges but there was always a safety and familiarity between us. The only problem was, we knew we were going to be short one wheel soon.
And then we were. We lost our fourth wheel. And I honestly could NOT think of a better way to honor and respect her life than the way we did it. It was THE BEST EVER. We did it just like we would have done it had the four of us been together. She would have been proud. She was there with us, actually, enjoying every moment. We could feel her.
It surprised me that we could laugh and play (believe me, we also cried and had temper tantrums) as much as we did that weekend. But it was SO GOOD and it was SO EFFORTLESS.
And then....
But then....
Enter the holidays six weeks later. I thought it was a good idea. I knew my motive was to be distracted and I ignored that, considering only my immediate discomfort. I wanted to re-live what we had experienced for at least 27 years together. We'd always been able to pull it off no matter how many of us could get together.
And this is what happened instead. It was exhausting. It was sad. It was argumentative. There was miscommunication at every turn. This definitely wasn't something I needed or was used to. Instead of adding, it was depleting.
We're OK, really. That's the beauty of long term friendship, where individual growth is encouraged and different personalities are honored.
But, in retrospect, now, I see how low our frequencies were. We had just "survived" a two year long marathon. It was over and we were both lost, hoping the other (or some favorite traditions and events) could provide, at least a temporary form of, ground.
On Christmas Day, I woke up with one eye swollen shut and a cold sore on my lip. And we ALL had refrained from drinking alcohol or eating wheat/dairy, knowing we were more suseptible to the shocking waves of grief. So, what was this?
My body was revolting to how challenging this had become. And, here, I thought, at least I'd have a short distraction. Instead, of trying to start to recover from the marathon, I was running a 5k.
What's my point? I've got to feel the feels. Even when I want a break Even if it's supposed to be one of the most celebratory times during the year. The feels feel anyway. Why make them more difficult?
And then, this is something I never would have considered. Maybe after running a marathon like this one, maybe it's a good idea to lean on someone who didn't just run it with you. This sounds like more loss, at first, but really, it makes a lot of sense. It's how the four of us pulled off 27 years in the first place - we all had our ups and downs at different times and were able to pull ourselves through.
I feel very fortunate to say that when I was called back for our last hurrah, I felt literally carried by all three of these people: Peter's words of wisdom on the drive to the airport, being picked up on the other end and having all the physical comforts waiting for me: heating pads, blankets, couch and food (not to mention L +S's comforting presence).
We were always like this, though. Sometimes we were rougher around the edges but there was always a safety and familiarity between us. The only problem was, we knew we were going to be short one wheel soon.
And then we were. We lost our fourth wheel. And I honestly could NOT think of a better way to honor and respect her life than the way we did it. It was THE BEST EVER. We did it just like we would have done it had the four of us been together. She would have been proud. She was there with us, actually, enjoying every moment. We could feel her.
It surprised me that we could laugh and play (believe me, we also cried and had temper tantrums) as much as we did that weekend. But it was SO GOOD and it was SO EFFORTLESS.
And then....
But then....
Enter the holidays six weeks later. I thought it was a good idea. I knew my motive was to be distracted and I ignored that, considering only my immediate discomfort. I wanted to re-live what we had experienced for at least 27 years together. We'd always been able to pull it off no matter how many of us could get together.
And this is what happened instead. It was exhausting. It was sad. It was argumentative. There was miscommunication at every turn. This definitely wasn't something I needed or was used to. Instead of adding, it was depleting.
We're OK, really. That's the beauty of long term friendship, where individual growth is encouraged and different personalities are honored.
But, in retrospect, now, I see how low our frequencies were. We had just "survived" a two year long marathon. It was over and we were both lost, hoping the other (or some favorite traditions and events) could provide, at least a temporary form of, ground.
On Christmas Day, I woke up with one eye swollen shut and a cold sore on my lip. And we ALL had refrained from drinking alcohol or eating wheat/dairy, knowing we were more suseptible to the shocking waves of grief. So, what was this?
My body was revolting to how challenging this had become. And, here, I thought, at least I'd have a short distraction. Instead, of trying to start to recover from the marathon, I was running a 5k.
What's my point? I've got to feel the feels. Even when I want a break Even if it's supposed to be one of the most celebratory times during the year. The feels feel anyway. Why make them more difficult?
And then, this is something I never would have considered. Maybe after running a marathon like this one, maybe it's a good idea to lean on someone who didn't just run it with you. This sounds like more loss, at first, but really, it makes a lot of sense. It's how the four of us pulled off 27 years in the first place - we all had our ups and downs at different times and were able to pull ourselves through.
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