Sunday, October 18, 2009

Is this what Desperation feels like?

I don't think that anyone who hasn't lost a spouse truly knows what it feels like to feel this way.

I thought I was doing ok. I thought I had done all my grieving the first two days when i was at the hospital, and when my mom and sister were here with me. But then starting Monday, I was composed, getting everything done this past week, just plugging away. I didn't even really cry when we planned his service.

And now I feel desperate. I know I have to be mommy first, but how hard that is. I want to grieve, yet I don't want to grieve. I'm in denial because now it setting in, the finality of his death. He is gone.

I feel like I am grasping at straws. Or an even better analogy would be that I feel like I am in quicksand, and not able to find a branch or vine to grab ahold of to keep me afloat. I don't know where to go to make myself feel better, to feel happy. I don't know how to move on from this tragedy.

Sometime this week I will be finding some counseling for the kids and I. Or a support group, or something. We really really need it.

And with the pictures, I had to move them last night. My sister told me it was OK. I just couldn't stop glancing at them. My eyes were constantly drawn in that direction, and it was too hard to look at him. So I put them all into a box, or out of my line of sight in this room so I wouldn't see then anymore. I feel incredibly guilty for doing that. I want him to know I still love him, but it's just too hard.

Today my in laws are coming again. We have two full days with them, and they leave early early Tuesday back to Pennsylvania. Today I have to clean out my husband's truck. It's being picked up tomorrow late afternoon. I'm sad, and relieved at the same time. I don't really want it here, but it's like the one final reminder of him. How can it not be? It's like the big elephant in the room that no one wants to mention, but you can actually see. This huge white kenworth is sitting outside on my driveway. It's an eyesore. It's painful to look at. But then again, I will be sad to see it gone because that means he is never coming back home in that truck again.

I've been told I should write a book about my experiences. Maybe one day. I think he would encourage me to do it, and be so very incredibly proud, but how sad is it that a tragedy like this has to happen to make the words flow from my head into my fingers and onto the keyboard.

7 comments:

Rina the Mama Bear said...

I think that it's very healthy to be writing your feelings out. It will help you grieve.

*hugs*

Liss said...

I agree with Rina, I think you are articulating things so well, and writing it all out is a therapy in itself. It will be something you read back on to see how far you've come.

love to you xx

Crystal said...

Some of the best soul-searching I have done has been while listening to melancholy music and writing at the same time. You are absolutely right, I can not even fathom your lonliness and pain. I was looking at your label cloud (it is a list of your keywords on your blog, right?) and saw "hubby" bold and in he center. It just hurt my stomach and made me sad for you. I have no idea why this is your life, but it is not because you deserve it. The other commenter was right on yesterday, the only solace I have had in really terrible times have been my personal prayers with Jesus. I have cried out to Him and felt physical arms holding me at times. He is there for you and your beautiful children. Let those around you take care of you, do not feel lessened because you are feeling desperation. Also, there are so many praying for you and wanting your comfort.

Shannon said...

I saw your name and link in regards to the passing of your husband. I was so upset to hear this. I've been married just a little longer and also have 4 children. I think your words are so similar to the feelings that I would toss around too. The loss is beyond words, yet you've found a way to express them.

Not sure how I missed that you had a blog though... I remember you from 2nd grade. Dissapointed I hadnt caught up with you earlier!

Traci said...

Hi. I have been reading your blog..and it is a great help. I am in Tulsa, Ok at a hospice trying to help my dad pass as I type this. I have spent hours by his bedside. Days. Wtaching him struggle. Its horrifying. I'm so tired. But so is he. he keeps fighting the good fight though. Tough old bird.
Someone sent this to me yesterday and I thought it migh thelp:

Parable of Immortality
Parable of Immortality ( A ship leaves . . . )
by Henry Van Dyke - 1852 - 1933


I am standing by the seashore.
A ship at my side spreads her white sails to the morning breeze
and starts for the blue ocean.
She is an object of beauty and strength,
and I stand and watch
until at last she hangs like a peck of white cloud
just where the sun and sky come down to mingle with each other.

Then someone at my side says, 'There she goes!
Gone where? Gone from my sight - that is all.

She is just as large in mast and hull and spar
as she was when she left my side
and just as able to bear her load of living freight
to the places of destination.
Her diminished size is in me, not in her.

And just at the moment when someone at my side says,
'There she goes! ' ,
there are other eyes watching her coming,
and other voices ready to take up the glad shout :
'Here she comes!'

Traci said...

Hi. I have been reading your blog..and it is a great help. I am in Tulsa, Ok at a hospice trying to help my dad pass as I type this. I have spent hours by his bedside. Days. Wtaching him struggle. Its horrifying. I'm so tired. But so is he. he keeps fighting the good fight though. Tough old bird.
Someone sent this to me yesterday and I thought it migh thelp:

Parable of Immortality
Parable of Immortality ( A ship leaves . . . )
by Henry Van Dyke - 1852 - 1933


I am standing by the seashore.
A ship at my side spreads her white sails to the morning breeze
and starts for the blue ocean.
She is an object of beauty and strength,
and I stand and watch
until at last she hangs like a peck of white cloud
just where the sun and sky come down to mingle with each other.

Then someone at my side says, 'There she goes!
Gone where? Gone from my sight - that is all.

She is just as large in mast and hull and spar
as she was when she left my side
and just as able to bear her load of living freight
to the places of destination.
Her diminished size is in me, not in her.

And just at the moment when someone at my side says,
'There she goes! ' ,
there are other eyes watching her coming,
and other voices ready to take up the glad shout :
'Here she comes!'

Anonymous said...

Hey Joanna,

May I suggest that being a "mommy first", means looking after yourself, first, so that you can better be there for your children? Don't feel guilty for what you have to do to help yourself grieve your loss (ie moving pictures). There may be times where you need to give your children the GIFT of sending them to friends/family for a day, night, or even a weekend, so that you can get caught up on you and be refreshed for them (and you). Please know that I'm not saying you have to do this or this the THE right thing to do. Maybe what you all need is time spent together, 24/7, for a while. I don't know. But I do know that everyone grieves and deals with such losses in different ways and everyone just needs to find what works for them...just don't EVER feel guilty for looking after yourself.

Jessica L