Reading, but only for a short while. Crocheting. Walking aimlessly around the house. Browsing online. Taking care of Scout. Cuddling with my husband.
Welcome to my days since I’ve been home. It’s hard for me to commit to anything for any length of time. But, for some reason, I’ve been able to crochet. I just finished my second scarf yesterday afternoon and I’ll be putting it in the Etsy shop later today. (The scarf I posted yesterday sold rather quickly.)
It feels good to accomplish something.
I have trouble getting to sleep and, after dozing for a short time, I wake up and am confused as to where I am. Is that Dad in the room with me? Is it Mom? It’s unsettling. I woke up feeling very sad.
I know it’s all a part of the grieving process and I’m not trying to rush anything or deny any of my feelings. I’ve grieved a lot in my life. I’ve lost a lot of friends and students and colleagues and family members. Losing my parents is hitting me in my very core, in ways I didn’t – couldn’t – anticipate.
Don came in the door yesterday with these:
I don’t know what I’d do without him. He’s there for me; solid, understanding, compassionate.
And so I wait for some more yarn to make its way to my mailbox, ready to create a few more Obsession Scarves. A box of things; pictures, memories, paintings, should be arriving today. I may actually get in the car and drive to Target to buy some mailing boxes and a yarn needle at Michaels. I spent a long time yesterday searching for mine but I have no idea where I put them. They’ve dropped off the face of the earth.
Could this post be more tedious and boring? Even I am bored by it. But I always speak truth to you and this is where I am at the moment.
How about a pretty picture?
It’s been raining here for the past two days and it sure looks gloomy this morning. I hope the sun decides to make an appearance.
Happy Thursday.
When my mom passed, one of the hardest things was not being able to focus enough to read. Books are my comfort. After a few weeks, I found myself re-reading some of my favorite books, namely Jan Karon’s series. It gave me great comfort to revisit a familiar story.
Thinking of you, Claudia xo
That sounds like a good idea, Karen. I may do that. Thank you.
Thank goodness you have Don and Scout. Love is healing and time, lots of time.
hugs,
Linda
You’re right. I keep going over my dad’s last hours in the hospital. I see his face and hear his voice. I need to remember that, but it’s also very painful. xo
Crochet is a therapy, just like knitting is. It focuses your mind, yet, it is a simple, repetitive motion. That why you can do it. That’s why, in coming days, it will help you deal with it all.
Much love,
Deb
I’m very grateful for it at the moment, that’s for sure. Thank you, Deb.
Hello Claudia, my best friend just lost her father and she is feeling a lot of the same emotions you are. It is definitely a hard time for both of you. Doris
She has my sympathy, Doris. I’m so sorry.
Beautiful flowers from your sweetie! And a lovely picture as well. One of the things I enjoy about your blog Claudia is that it is real. It’s you. Again, wishing you peace, comfort and joyful memories.
Thank you so much, Vera.
I’ve lost my FIL, Dad, MIL, and every time one of them passed, I had three young boys/teens to keep my mind focused…so my mind wouldn’t wander…couldn’t wander. I had to stay focused or my life would really fall apart. Crocheting is probably one of the best medicines for you right now….so is rereading old favorites as Karen suggested. It’s therapy…embrace it….and thank goodness for Don! ;)
I’m waiting for more yarn to arrive so I can start another scarf, Donnamae. In the meantime….I’ll try to do some reading.
It just takes time!
Love,
Judy
I know you understand, dear Judy. Thank you.
Boring is good — it’s your mind and body’s way of allowing time for processing and healing. Just let it be and you will find your way slowly out of it. As my youngest son always tells me when I anxious about timing, “it’s a process, Ma; it’s a process.” (Usually it’s his way of explaining why he hasn’t done something yet). :)
I will do my best to be patient about the whole thing, Ann.
When my dad passed away unexpectedly, I had to hop a red-eye in order to attend the funeral. I had to be back at work within 48 hours, so it was all a bit of a blur. Perhaps sadness will always wander in unexpectedly, but I think it would have helped to have had some quiet time to process what happened. I say take your time ensconced in your family’s love.
I am aware that my sister isn’t getting the quiet time I am. She has a young child, a very busy work schedule and she really doesn’t have much time to just sit in the quiet. I worry about that.
November IS a gloomy month. It ‘s the month of transitions. And although I know that this is a difficult time for you right now Claudia, you will get through it . The flowers are Beautiful and your Don is priceless!
He is a gem, Elizabeth. I’m very lucky that he’s here for me.
Grieving takes time — and saps all of our energy. It’s difficult. Sending you warm thoughts.
It really does sap my energy. I feel so exhausted and tired. I did get out and run some errands, so I’m patting myself on the back.
A re-read of Mitford sounds truly wonderful! Meeting Father Tim, Cynthia, Barnabas and Dooley for the “first time” sounds like a grand plan!
Don’t you feel like the weather plays a big part in how we feel? I always feel a bit better, a bit more at peace, when the sun shines. Probably I just psych myself out to think that way, but I know when I take my Vitamin D regularly I really do feel much better…. but actual sunshine is a much much better alternative.
The flowers are beautiful. Don is a treasure. Sweet Scout is so happy you are home. My wish for you today is that the sun will shine on you at some point during the day.
One day, one step at a time, my friend. Your way.
Absolutely the weather plays a big part. It doesn’t help to see gray and rainy skies when I’m trying to lift my mood. Ah, well. Thank you, Chris.
I do not find your post boring, rather, raw and real. I think most people who have worked their way through the grieving process can relate to what you have written.
Your crochet work is beautiful as are your flowers!
I hope the sun shines soon in your neck of the woods. Sometimes it makes all things a little brighter.
Still very rainy and gray. Cloudy and windy tomorrow. I think we won’t see the sun until Sunday.
Dear Claudia, You are doing just fine,for the blog. You just keep putting one foot in front of the other,wake up in the morning with a Giant stretch,hold your head up and smile!Even if you don’t feel like even for 2 seconds. You do it because at sometime your going to want*,need, to go back there.Do it just to make sure you don’t lose your way.
* I’m sure it doesn’t seem feasible now, but the day will come,when time will sweeten your memories, and your going to want to smile,and even laugh. You just hang on Dear Claudia.
We are all here at anytime with a shot in the arm of courage,Strength, what ever you need.
Judy A-
Thank you so much, Judy.
I’m so grateful you have this time to process, to grieve and that you have Don and Scout. As you mentioned in one of the previous comments, I worry about Meredith who is SO busy with life. I was the same when both of my parents and my FIL passed and I never had time to just “be”. Too much happening, to many responsibilities. I continue to pray for both of you.
Blessings,
Betsy
I’ve told Meredith to make sure she takes some time for herself, but that’s easier said than done.
Thinking of you. Take plenty of time and be kind to yourself. Take care.
I will, thank you, Liz.
Claudia, one thing you never have is a boring post.
I don’t quite know what you are feeling; how can anyone. It’s different each time, for everybody. We’re all unique in how we suffer loss. Nobody has a right to tell you how to feel, either. Or what you should be doing or how you should be coping.
With me, I had delayed grief with my parents and I still don’t think I’ve resolved everything that went down with my mom…one reason why, day or so after she died, I was informed by the doctor I possibly had cancer (which I did, and I was really physically depleted so, I look back on it now from a couple of years ago and it was a really complicated time; I don’t know how I got through everything, including major surgery/recovery). And, with Dad, I was consumed with the immediate need, upon his hospitalization (and then his subsequent passing, and the days/weeks/years beyond), to provide hands-on care to my disabled mother, completely overwhelmed with my new role as instant caregiver, a job for which I absolutely was NOT prepared. There was never time to think; no time to sort out my thoughts. No time to grieve.
But, by far, the worst I’ve experienced was the completely unexpected death of my brother when he was only in his 30s; worst phone call of my life. One day he was fine; the next day he was…gone. Forever. No last words; no last conversations. I was living thousands of miles away at the time. You learn to live with these things but sometimes there’s really no getting over it. This week, coincidentally, he’s gone 23 years. To this day and ever since, when it gets to be a week or two or three before the black date of his death, I’ll have a sense of foreboding come over me, not realizing why and then eventually it’ll hit: Oh, yes, that DAY is ahead. Weirdest thing, really. Dark clouds. A lost feeling. More dulled than in the 90s but…there. I can count on it. I guess, for me, it has become ‘normal’…but, it’s not. I remember how, just after he’d passed, I was stricken with the thought that because he wasn’t before me in the flesh, that I’d forget what he looked like, what he sounded like. I grabbed a blank journal and began to write down anything and everything I could recall of his physical attributes. And then I followed it with his favorite sayings or jokes. His stories. I’d already written the obit, so I knew his accomplishments. But then I even wrote down in the journal of what he’d never know…a marriage, the birth of a child, etc. I was trying to figure out how such a horrible thing…this premature death…could be reconciled. Or explained. How could I continue to live without my beloved brother who had propped me up, made me lighten up; our shared childhood; our strengthened bond as adults. I was now an only child, without him by my side as I grew old. Alone. It wasn’t the way it was supposed to be. This was not how life was supposed to happen. My brain couldn’t get right with any of it. It was a time of such confusion and I didn’t think I’d ever stop thinking about it. And I figured if he could die, maybe it would happen to me, too. I’d never faced my own mortality, and it was very unsettling. I guess death just makes us who are left behind feel…vulnerable.
I’d say continue to be gentle with yourself, Claudia. I’m no expert, but it seems like most of what you are doing is right…I think it’s really great you’re putting hands to work, doing your crocheting. You are grieving; grief hurts. You’re drained. Grief sucks so much out of a person. I’m glad you’re the type of gal who is in touch with her emotions, so you can cry it out, talk it out…and with a compassionate person who is your life partner, the sensitive and loving Don. Thank God he’s home right now and not away on a acting job. Grief will have its way and will take its time. I think I read once that there are seven stages (or is it five?) to a grieving process, wrapped around powerful emotions including even anger. And, as you know from your past experiences with loss, it’s different every single time, every death. I think one of the reasons it was so hard for me with my brother…among a host of reasons…was that I simply could not accept the fact that he was gone, and the longer I wouldn’t accept it, the more I resisted…the more drawn-out was my grief.
So, it’s a struggle. And struggling gets very tiring. Make sure right now that you take extra good care of yourself. It’s getting into the cold and flu season. Try to hydrate against the dry heat of the house interior. Also, have a comforting mug of good, nutritious, hot veggie soup. Bundle up and try to get in a walk after the rain. Keep writing out your thoughts. Just let things come as they will. A familiar routine to daily life is good, but naps right now are allowed; it’s okay to rest and nod off when you can. You’ve been wounded and you need to heal.
I already had a sinus thing happening right after I got home – not surprising. But that’s better now. I’m taking care of myself. I had a mug of hot chocolate yesterday afternoon. I ran some errands yesterday – driving in the car my dad gave us for the first time since his death.
Take your time! I just spoke with someone yesterday about the pressure of always be happy, always have fun. We are not used to being sad anymore, it’s almost not allowed in our culture. So again; take your time. Hugs, Regula