Often this is how I feel, like my words are on a nearby horizon - mine - but not formed just yet in a way that makes sense.
I have been working on a post for nearly a week, but held back from pressing the publish button - instead re-reading the text again and again.
It makes sense to me, but I fear it won't to you. I'm afraid you see me as the strong angel mother who somehow has it all together after eight-plus years. Sometimes I am, and her memory fills me with joy and bittersweet celebration - similar to a mother's teary smile as she watches her daughter walk down the isle and marry the man of her dreams.
But - sometimes I'm not. And, although my unexpected breakdowns are - admittedly - few and far between, they do happen. And when they do, they are ugly, time-shifting episodes. I am certain the calendar lies and this is Sept, 2000. My heart breaks all over again into infentessimal pieces as I scramble to pick them up. And, I completly embody the broken woman who cried over a still body all those years ago.
This happened last Friday night and lingered, morphing my personality, crippling my ability to take care of my family until Saturday afternoon. If not for my husband, who has grown so much in his own soul and grief instantly understanding what I needed - even when I couldn't make the tiniest of decisions (sugar or honey in your coffee? I....dddooon't.....knooowwwww - I wailed); I would have been lost to that world for, who knows how long.
I trust you. I love you all. In five months you have become my extended family who resides all over this great country (and beyond ;) I want to share this with you, but I need to know that you want to hear it. Maybe you don't. Maybe you prefer the Cara in her pinstriped pants and crisp ironed shirt who can weather any emotional shitstorm.
I said I would go back, re-live and write about it. I never expected to be admitting it in the present - not like this.
I think I'll go read that post - just one more time.
In grief and love - and trust -
Cara
Thursday, February 12, 2009
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13 comments:
Grief has no expiration date unfortunately. Ah, that I wish that it did. It is Emma's and your family's right to grieve and feel pain and sadness. I think grief is outside of our control, we are kind of like passengers on the train, sometimes a smooth ride w/a nice view, sometimes bumpy in a dark tunnel.
I care for and support Cara in pinstripes and in stained sweats. I mourn my losses from almost 25 years ago, not so acutely, but just as heartbreaking and tenderly.
Blessings, M
Martha is right...grief has no expiration date. {{{Hugs}}}
BTW, I gave you an award on my blog.
I'd love to hear what you have to say, I've often had not so pretty posts that have always been met with silence, but somehow it helps me to put it out there, almost as if the post still lying in the draft box has no power, and it will only be released as you hit the publish button. I don't often comment but I always always read.
Remember this is YOUR blog, your safe place. Do what works for you, and if you are still not sure, still feeling too vulnerable to put it out there, wait until you are ready. We will wait with you.
Cara, I think emotional honesty -- whether it is the honesty of the bittersweetness and joy, the deep exploration of how you did feel, or the full impact of a breakdown now -- is what makes all this work. It is helpful to look at mamas who are further down the road of grief than I am and to see that it looks easier than it feels in the early days or at the one year mark or just beyond. But I don't expect to pass a magical marker and have it all go away, so why would I expect you to experience that.
You say it yourself at the top of the page: Treat this as a communication haven regardless of how or when you felt your loss.
As others have said, grief has no expiration date. It doesn't matter if the loss was today or 75 years ago. There are times it seems so far away and times when it is so fresh and raw.
I want to hear your what you have to say when you're ready. This is your place and even though you should write for yourself, you never know who you touch with your words, whether they are good or bad.
Cara, the fact that you still feel Emma's absence gives me hope. I don't ever have to fear forgetting George. He will always be a part of my life and when I have my sad moments in 8 years time, I will think fondly of Cara who, by sharing so much of herself and her own journey, let me know that it was ok.
I'm here ready to read whatever you have to share.
Love love love to you.
xxx
Makes me realise what a looooooooong way I have to go. But that's ok. I kinda knew that...
I'd love to hear whatever you have to say. This blog is for you to be honest, to say how you feel, whether that is good or not. I would hope no one would expect you to be peaches and cream all the time. You are strong woman who still feels grief and should be able to express that. So write away and share if you would like because I would definitely like to read and send my support.
Oh, sweetie! We love you, too!
It takes a strong woman to put her messy emotions out there in the world. No one expects you to be a one dimensional pillar of strength. Strength comes in many forms. Including the strength to trust that it's okay to fall apart. That those who loved you will hold you up, as you do for others.
xoxo!!
Please share. We will want to read and support you just as you have us. It is okay to have days when the loss is just as raw as the day it happened. I expect that to be the rest of my life. I agree that they will far and fewer in between, but still there.
When you are ready, we are here.
A few years back, my FIL drank too much wine at Christmas and burst into tears while talking about the loss of my husband's older brother, who died from a cord accident in the 2nd trimester (an accident like the one that almost took our son)- and it had been way back in 1967. Grief is one of those visitors that never stays away for long.
No, no need to be Super Cara. We get it.
Let it through, Cara! If we were not to accept your grief in favour of the Iron Lady form herself, we would be utterly unfair to you and not of any worth as an 'extended family'.
Your grief helps to validate my own grief. I realize that every time I see the decorated grave of a baby who died many years ago.
I will check out the memory boxes on SSV.
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