We\u2019re all getting older.<\/p>\n
Deny it all you will, it\u2019s a fact. \u00a0Currently, on my mantle is an urn. It\u2019s a nice simple shape.<\/p>\n
It contains the cremains of my Significant Other. We had 34 years together; some good, some bad, but the important thing is we endured the hard times and celebrated the good times.<\/p>\n
There\u2019s a finality to that urn. It\u2019s like a stake in the ground that says, \u201cFrom here you go on alone.”<\/p>\n
Now, there\u2019s all the paperwork and complications. There\u2019s the digging through documents and trying to find accounts and pay for this, that, and the other thing. There are originals and copies of proof of death to be sent to various organizations. It\u2019s complicated, litigious, and annoying.<\/p>\n
There\u2019s cleaning, and organizing of all the little bits of stuff that my S.O. considered important enough to keep and deciding the validity of each thing. Should the silly coffee mug from some professional conference be kept? It means nothing to me. But it was a cup that frequently was on the breakfast table. I suppose, in that, some objects have attained sentimental value, but are they important enough to keep?<\/p>\n
How do you decide? What merits an object\u2019s inclusion in a cabinet when everything in the house is something you remember picking out together?\u00a0When your home is full of memories, how do you weight one item over the rest?<\/p>\n
There are items that should be returned to my S.O.s family. I\u2019ve been collecting those because these items have historical significance to the family and should be passed on. Like other objects they have little significance to me personally, but to the family they are bits and pieces of their history. The family should have the opportunity to accept or reject these items.<\/p>\n
Our home is full of memories. These memories come unbidden at random times and they can be paralyzing.<\/p>\n
Then there are all the good people who don\u2019t know what to say or do. There\u2019s really nothing they can<\/em> say or do, this pain is mine. I appreciate their well wishes and concern. But really there\u2019s little they can do to help, short of standing with me.<\/p>\n There are those among the friends of my S.O. for whom drama seems to be necessary. For them, sharing their trauma of losing a parent or sibling is supposed to be helpful. In reality their repetitive oversharing is just ripping the bandage off the wound.<\/p>\n It\u2019s not that they mean to be cruel. They just don\u2019t understand that grieving a spouse seems to be a private affair. Losing a spouse is very different from losing a parent or sibling. I\u2019ve experienced all three now. The spouse, is a completely different experience.<\/p>\n When you\u2019re growing up, you come to understand that death is part of life. You understand there\u2019s an order to things. You eventually realize that your parents will one day, not be there, and you usually have a long time to come to grips with that concept. Often, your parents, realizing their own mortality, provide you with guidelines and instruction. It\u2019s not overt, but you see your grandparents pass on and by observation you learn how to come to grips with that inevitably.<\/p>\n When your parents pass on, you grieve following your parent’s example of grieving their parents.<\/p>\n When your spouse passes on, you have some rudimentary coping mechanisms but those don\u2019t really fit. You\u2019re in uncharted waters and each day brings new and different pain.<\/p>\n You see something that your spouse left behind. For example, a mess, and your first thought is to be irritated by it, then you remember your spouse is gone. That\u2019s when you feel guilt about being irritated with them, and grief washes over you. Then you wonder if you were good enough to them, were you petty when you expressed your irritation about them leaving messes in their wake.<\/p>\n Should you have been more patient and loving? Then you\u2019re back to guilt.<\/p>\n You don\u2019t really have time to process your feelings because there are plans and decisions to be made.<\/p>\n The love of your life may be at peace, but you\u2019re anything but…<\/p>\n I\u2019ve found myself losing hours of a day over something trivial. I\u2019ve been awakened by the dog in the night because unbeknownst to me I was crying in my sleep. It\u2019s a strange feeling to be awakened by your dog kissing tears away. In the dim moonlight I can see the dog\u2019s concerned eyes. Once I\u2019m awake, he lays down next to me with one paw on my arm, as if to say, “I\u2019m here Dad, it\u2019s going to be alright.”<\/p>\n I\u2019m anthropomorphizing the dog. He doesn\u2019t really understand, but he\u2019s aware something fundamental has changed in our home.<\/p>\n Grief appears to be a journey. It\u2019s not one that I\u2019m prepared for, and not one that any of us have a choice in undertaking.<\/p>\n I\u2019m getting the feeling that this is also a long journey.<\/p>\n All of which is to say, I\u2019m likely to be writing intermittently at best.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" We\u2019re all getting older. Deny it all you will, it\u2019s a fact. \u00a0Currently, on my mantle is an urn. It\u2019s a nice simple shape. It contains the cremains of my Significant Other. We had 34 years together; some good, some bad, but the important thing is we endured the hard times and celebrated the good … <\/p>\n