Really Good Grief
When my father died, grief took on its own life.
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Mensiversary

7/13/2013

2 Comments

 
PictureAn independent man
July 11 marked 6 months since my father died. I don't keep track of these month markers very closely, but my stepmother does, and my sister does too, and they point it out. I notice and mention a renewal of grief, reminding someone else to remind me how long it's been.

Six months without Dad. Six months of dealing with his death. That six month marker doesn't really reflect how long I've been facing it. I've been facing it since I noticed the DNR bracelet he wore during his first hospitalization, and since I noticed during the second hospitalization that he wasn't wearing one, and asked him about it.

“I guess people want to keep me around,” he said.

I told him I was one of them, and he smiled.

Noticing and marking these monthlong intervals is one way a new death is like a birth. In the days after a birth, a child is days old, then weeks old, then months old. We note developments keyed to these increments and compare the child to other children we meet of the same age, though we know we're not supposed to.

I've noticed some developmental milestones of my own since January 11. I no longer start all conversations as if I'm continuously in the middle of a thought about my feelings about Dad, or completing an interrupted story about him, or sharing a memory of a moment that keeps sticking in my head.

I no longer arrive home from the minimal obligations I was able to uphold and curl up with snacks and beer on the couch to take a break from the voices and noises inside my head. Not every day.

I no longer feel haunted by his face in the last moments, when the only question that came to mind was, “How will we know he's dead? How do we decide?”

More rarely than in earlier months, a wave of grief washes over me, and I have to surf it to shore. This week, I deleted Dad's email address from my “Family” list, and though I knew I wasn't deleting him as a member of my family, that one hurt. This time.

This time, so clearly marked. Each month counted marks a success, like keeping a baby alive. 

Happy mensiversary.

2 Comments
Laura link
7/23/2013 07:21:40 am

There's something about grief in particular that calls us to hold up all sorts of disparate moments in the light of memory, to look at them from all sorts of angles. My heart goes out to you in this time of fresh loss.

My mother died six years ago after a long struggle. My father, a vital and active man, died suddenly two years ago. I feel the loss every day. I'm teaching myself find joy when my parents come to mind rather than let the feeling go to sorrow. I still say aloud, "I miss you" to the sky, still drink too much wine some evenings. But I know every generation goes on. Poetry helps. Music helps. Being outdoors helps. Children help. May you find what helps.

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Pearl link
7/24/2013 01:10:42 am

Laura--

I appreciate your perspective -- and I'm inspired by your list of what helps you. That form of sharing ideas instead of giving advice feels like what I've been looking for. Not "you should do this" but "this helps me."

With gratitude,

Pearl

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    Pearl Klein

    I'm a theater artist and poet living in Seattle, where my father lived the last and best part of his life.

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