Hello and
welcome to whomever is reading this!
Introduction. I have been reading about how to start a blog and I think I failed in Rule #1. One author said that the first thing you need to do is to find your niche. My problem all of my life is that I have been a generalist; I have never been a specialist. I have always been drawn to broad knowledge, not necessarily narrow and deep knowledge. I have never had one niche, and I doubt that I ever will. It is just the way I am wired.
So, my non-niche niche…I am 62-year-old white American women who has lived a good life. I recently retired from a profession that required a lot of writing. The problem is that I still have a lot to say. I have an education, resources, a great family and good friends. I have passions that come from my experiences – love and loss, caring for family and friends in need, healthcare, and speaking out against injustices I see. I invite discussions on my blogs. I want to connect with others who are in this phase of life. I don’t know what to call this phase, but I think that things happen during the 7th decade of life that are shared experiences—loss, caregiving, giving back to others and communities. We can learn from each other. I only ask that you be civil to one another. I will not allow profanity and name-calling on my site. I value honesty, truth, compassion, and integrity. I am deeply concerned about the divisions in our country and I am looking for ways to stimulate dialogue, understanding and inclusiveness. We have forgotten how to listen to each other. We have forgotten how to be nice. We have forgotten how to compromise.
I call this site gailscircle as a nod to my late Grandma who belonged to various church circles. I heard about circles all during my childhood but quite frankly I am not sure what she did at them besides socialize and have potluck luncheons that always included jello salads. From what I could tell, the key to a good circle was social interactions with other like-minded women. While Grandma’s circles were composed mostly of women like her (women, Caucasian, Methodist, of a certain age, middle class) I welcome diversity. I don’t care what gender, sexual orientation, or color you are. If you are interested in the topics, post with civility and compassion, please join in the conversations. As an aside, I view social media as an adjunct to in-person interaction, but perhaps the virtual circle I am creating will help to stimulate in-person circles.
So, my first blog is on loss and grief…and how a metaphor helps me to cope with the most devastating loss of my life.
My Story. Two years ago, after 30 years of a happy marriage, my husband died of surgical complications. He suffered from an aggressive form of Parkinson’s Disease for five years. He was very debilitated when he had surgery. Six months after Terry’s dearth I finally screwed up the courage to attend a support group hosted by the local hospice. (Terry received his final care from this hospice.) One of the most important things I learned at a support group meeting is that grief is like waves of the ocean. At first, the waves are very high and frequent. They knock you over before you can catch your breath. Right after Terry died, I felt like this. I could not focus, I could not think, I could not interact, I could not function. I remember the first few days. As it happened we were expecting a hurricane to hit our community. For three days I sat in a reclining chair in the living room and life went on very busily around me. My sons fastened window coverings and secured things outside, my friend cooked everything that could spoil if we lost power, my son made sure the generator was in good order, everyone put water in containers and made sure flashlights worked, all while three dogs of family who were staying with me buzzed around me at full speed. A couple of weeks later I finally dragged myself to work and went through the motions of life, but I felt like I was drowning in grief. I could not get a foothold on the ocean floor. Waves of grief came over me one after another and they were high.
As I continued to go through the motions of life, over time the waves of grief lessened in height and frequency. Little by little, between waves I was getting my bearings. My friends and family helped me to have reprieves from the waves. They loved me. They buoyed me up. They took me places. They visited. The thing about grief waves, though, is that over time sometimes you forget about them because they are so infrequent. Then, bam! Out of nowhere, unexpected, just when you think you are doing well, a huge wave knocks you over. It takes your breath away, and in the void, you miss your loved one in a gut-wrenching way all over again.
A huge wave knocked me over last week and it came from nowhere. I was at my close friend’s house for dinner and things were going well. We were all having a great time. We talked, we laughed, and we ate dinner together. Then, my friend and her husband began to reminisce about the camping trips they took when their kids were young. They told stories, shared memories, laughed about situations, and relished in their shared experiences. I felt like I was an observer standing outside of the situation. I was suspended in a huge void. Then the tsunami struck. Emotions hit me and they shook my being. I realized that I cannot ever share stories of my past with Terry again. I cannot connect with him over shared experiences. I felt hollow. I felt terrible, but I did recognize the experience as a huge wave, so I let it wash over me. In a few moments the wave passed, I got up and I got back in the conversation with my friends. I truly felt glad that my friends had each other and shared a special history. I enjoyed their conversation.
Over the next few days as I reflected on this last tsunami, I realized that my job is to lay down new memories. I am not sure where I am headed, but I remain more hopeful than ever. With my retirement I have the opportunity to write my new history. I will never forget my history with Terry because it is a part of me. I will pass Terry stories on to my children, but I have the opportunity to write the story of the rest of my life, however long that will be.
Discussion: The wave metaphor has been very helpful for me in understanding and normalizing my grief experiences. Others may use different metaphors that work better for them than the wave works for me. I have always loved the water and swimming, so maybe ocean waves felt comfortable to me. Whatever the metaphor, they help us make sense of our experiences, ourselves, our relationships, and our places in the world. Metaphors help us to talk to others about our experiences, especially the experiences that we keep hidden, like loss and grief.
Question: How has a metaphor helped you to cope with a loss in your life?
#loss #grief #socialcircle