It’s exactly two months today since one of my rocks left our lives, my life. My Dad died. Today in my wonderings I want to share with you some wondering I did while my Dad was ill. A couple of weeks before he died. I’m feeling stronger, so able to share, and I really want to share this. But it’s a bit of my rawness, so please be gentle with it.
I need to write today about Dad. And the mess in my head and body. I have so much going on in my life but I think I need some space too- just for now… so here is my space…. filled with words. What I want, what I do, how I feel, none of it is planned or intended. It’s just there, here in my chest, neck, back, face, body.
I feel closed. Probably because if I open I will feel too raw and uncontrolled. I may need to do that, to go there, but I’m not sure how to except in small pieces. I’m not sure that’s even possible to do. I’ve cried and it helps. As does music, hugs with my babies, and sleep helps if it comes.
Work distracts, but I get confused, overwhelmed. My glass feels so full and not much tips the water over the edge.
My chest feels so tight it hurts and aches all the time. I need to breath and let that go but it’s not something that can just go. I can soften it a bit, and then it returns. Is that the feeling of stress? Depression? Grief? Or confusion? Who knows!
A run or walk may clear it for a bit, open space, out on my own, just breathing.
So what is this thing called grief that grapples us from the inside and outside? This consequence of huge change, loss, guilt, fear, confusion, an inability to help or talk or express…..anything.
My words stick. My messages remain unsent or edited. I’m fine. I’m fine. Because I am. And I’m not. Don’t worry, I’m ok. I’m aware of this darkness but it’s there, not here. When it creeps in I know and I have some releases. I know where to reach and that shines a light and lets it out. Softens it.
So what is this thing called grief? That I’m experiencing it’s different. Different to before and I’ve known it before, but not at this time, not now with this life. Is it different every time?
And the strangest thing. He is still here. He hasn’t gone, not physically and not fully in his mind either. But he’s letting go, his soul is fading and he’s ok with that. I’m glad he is ok, glad he has some peace. But his body isn’t doing his bidding. It’s not quite ready, it won’t just go because he is ready.
So I watch her cope and not cope, and I cope and not cope along with her but not with her. She has me, but she is alone. No one can go through this with her, not in the same way.
So what is this thing called Grief? I found a definition……‘A multifaceted response to loss, particularly to the loss of someone or something that has died, to which a bond or affection was formed.’ That’s just not deep enough….
So I found this. Saudade: A Galician word – with no direct English translation.
‘A deep emotional state of nostalgic or profound melancholic longing for an absent someone or something that one loves. The love that remains.’”
Two months on is not long, but it also feels like it is, like it was so long ago already. I have lost someone so strong and so important in my life, and it has shaken me to my core, but that is ok. I am ok. Death is something we often shy away from, we don’t often talk about it except in dark or hushed tones. But it is part of our cycle, as normal as birth and life. I recently had a wonderful discussion with Diane Goldie about this matter and how differently cultures around the world treat death and the subject of it. How, without fear of death we can perhaps be free to enjoy our life and all that comes with it. Perhaps. I’m so new to this thing called death, having spent so long myself shying away from the subject. But what I will take from it is to love. As whether we lose people to death or other ways, if I spent my life not connecting, not feeling, not growing and touching and experiencing, then I shall not feel that I have lived at all.
Love for now