Self-consciousness
I was paying bills this morning, trying to get paperwork organized in the secretary desk that holds it all. There were deposit slips and paperwork from the hospital and retirement stuff to be filed. As I sat there writing checks, I was aware of how emotionally neutral the task was today, and what a blessing that was.
Thanksgiving 2006 was a totally different picture. I was still a wreck. It’d been only 4 months since A had passed, and I had informally abdicated my role as keeper of the family finances. The bills were disorganized, unpaid, overdue, and stacked with other mail to the point that I couldn’t get the desk shut properly. I really had no idea what was in the pile. I knew I needed to take care of it, knew I didn’t want to pay late fees, knew, just like breathing, this was something I needed to keep doing whether I wanted to or not. And still, I walked past the desk thinking “Later.”
Now it’s “Later,” and I felt satisfaction getting the bills paid, other things organized, and walking envelopes out to the mailbox. No dread. No avoidance. No cloud hanging over me, other than my recuperation which of course is going more slowly than I would wish.
It’s funny to me that for so long, every single thing I did was tainted by grief, and even the most mundane things were remarkable because of it. And now, every single thing I do is remarkable because the grief is absent from it, and it gives me pause as I consider (happily) the change. I wonder at what point every single thing I do will be entirely unremarkable. I must say, I’m rather looking forward to that.
I still have trouble focusing on some things, work (the paying job) being one of them. I’m not sure it’s necessarily grief anymore (as opposed to, say boredom or a lack of interest) but, if called on it, I’m not above using grief as my excuse…
That’s terrible, isn’t it?
Sorry the recuperation is taking longer than you’d expected. I know I have unrealistic expectations for my body anymore. Must be that “age” thing.
I’m not going to judge you. The nature of grief is that it could very well be the reason, as it’s both sudden and stealthy. I was farklempt watching a Disney movie tonight because of a connection to my A; totally unexpected reaction, but there it was.
I’m right here with you, TGLB, and have been noticing and thinking the same thing lately. You summed it up perfectly (and shorter than I would have ;o)).
Hope you’re starting to feel a bit better each day and hour. Recovery sucks, whether it’s from grief, surgery, or anything else. Hang in there!
Hugs,
Candice
Hi, I lost my sweetheart to lung cancer in March. I can relate to so much of what you have written here. His mother and sisters have been unbeleivably nasty and spiteful and have managed to make his illness and death all about them. They denied we were living together and told people (including their own brothers) that he had not been happy and we only got married because he was dying. They demanded his wedding presents from his first marraige (she died 10 months before I met him) and any of “her” property be “returned” to them and told anyone who would listen that I planned to sell them. None of them speak to me because they feel I betrayed him by not asking their permission before he made his peace with a sister none of them talk to and to add insult to injury I defended my actions by telling them it was no-ones business but his who visited him in hospital (they didn’t bother until I told them he was dying). They have twisted everything I have said and done and they have made a situation that was already my worst nightmare almost unbearable. I drift between hating them with a passion and pitying them for being so petty and miserable. I only found your blog recently and it is helping me maintain my last shred of sanity by reminding me that “this too shall pass”. I hope you feel better soon and I’m glad to hear you’re feeling much stronger lately.
Dear Delia,
I’m so sorry about your husband, and that you have reason to find so much in common with this blog. Thanks for reading, and I’m glad it gives you some threads to grasp on to and hold on.
It’s really stunning what a death in the family does to people; I would’ve never believed it if I hadn’t experienced it myself, and heard the stories of other widows. In reading their stories, and yours, I feel like I got off easy, though the situation tormented me. His family treated me with, I guess I would say, a staggering indifference in the end. And that’s tough to take when you know you meant the world to him, and they just won’t acknowledge it, for whatever reasons of their own.
But remembering that is key, because it’s true. As you say, this isn’t about you–or him, even–it’s about them, and about all their issues over the years. They ARE petty and miserable, and their life is their constant punishment. You will eventually heal, if you want to; they may never, because they probably don’t, and won’t, acknowledge they’re soul-ill in deep ways.
We all lose so much, on top of losing our beloveds, and it’s so hard. In time, I have accepted that this is how it is; if I think too hard about them, I get sad, and angry, and sad some more, so I don’t go there too often or too deeply. It took me a long time to get to this place, but I did eventually get here. Because the love they can never take away from us.
Let me just say that you needn’t spend one more breath defending your actions to them. You needn’t speak to or interact with people who do not respect you as a human being, especially one married to their family member. They sound toxic, and you are not required to put up with that. I know it’s hard when you’re hurting and tired and weak, but protect your boundaries, do not answer the phone, or the door, unless you want to. You do not owe consideration to the grossly inconsiderate and cruel. In those cases, your silence is a kindness.
Hugs to you.