Showing posts with label widow_reflections. Show all posts
Showing posts with label widow_reflections. Show all posts
Wednesday, July 25, 2012
My heart hurts
I know this is the best thing. I know it was a long time coming. I know, I know, I know. i am grieving the loss of someone and something that was very dear to me. I will honor the grief. I will walk through to the next place. But damn, it hurts. Just saying.
Sunday, November 13, 2011
The Annual Vigil
i am in San Antonio with youngest son, his wife and our new grandbaby, a beautiful little girl named, Raegan. It is wonderful to be with them, to hold and love this baby; to witness the blessing of my baby parenting; to be in the warmth and to have a break from my familiar surroundings. (I am unable to upload photos as I only have my IPad with me, pics to follow.)
Today marks seven years, seven years ago this day was the last 24 hours that Tom was drawing breath on this earth. Granted, he was in a coma, but he was here, he was warm and we were together. The nearly four days from November 11 to 14 in 2004 remain a blur.
There are things that stick out in sharp relief, inscribed in thick, indelible lines within my very heart.
When I walked into the trauma room in the ER that night, he was on a gurney, his clothing had been cut-off and he was intubated. They let me stay - I quietly stood at the end of that gurney and held fast to his big toe. The floor was littered with the detrius of their life saving actions. I held hope in both hands. Thirty minutes later a nurse took me in a little room and gently told me "it doesn't look good". I clutched hope more firmly and went to ICU.
Looking at the MRI for the first in the early pre-dawn hours - my dearest sister-friend Lisa by my side - it was so clear, the right side of his brain was gone. Still I hoped. i looked at those MRI pictures a half dozen times and hope began to crumble. Removing the breathing tube was the ultimate step to freeing him, but oh so difficult to do and to watch.
Laying beside him in the hospital bed, recounting our meeting, our courtship, our marriage, our love and our lives - this was his last night on earth. In the middle of the night, Cheryl, our nurse came in, gave us a smile and said, "I don't know what you are talking about, but every once in a while his heart rate jumps up there.". We were on the same wave length. Later she returned and as she was leaving, she turned around and said, "enjoy his warmth". I didn't totally understand then - I do now. I will forever feel grateful that on his last night on the planet, I slept in his arms, holding him with all I am or ever will be.
So, here I sit in the kitchen in San Antonio, listening to baby gurgles, feeling sadness mixed with such gratitude and hope. Once again touching the wound that will never quite heal. Memories assail me this morning. There is more to come.........
Today marks seven years, seven years ago this day was the last 24 hours that Tom was drawing breath on this earth. Granted, he was in a coma, but he was here, he was warm and we were together. The nearly four days from November 11 to 14 in 2004 remain a blur.
There are things that stick out in sharp relief, inscribed in thick, indelible lines within my very heart.
When I walked into the trauma room in the ER that night, he was on a gurney, his clothing had been cut-off and he was intubated. They let me stay - I quietly stood at the end of that gurney and held fast to his big toe. The floor was littered with the detrius of their life saving actions. I held hope in both hands. Thirty minutes later a nurse took me in a little room and gently told me "it doesn't look good". I clutched hope more firmly and went to ICU.
Looking at the MRI for the first in the early pre-dawn hours - my dearest sister-friend Lisa by my side - it was so clear, the right side of his brain was gone. Still I hoped. i looked at those MRI pictures a half dozen times and hope began to crumble. Removing the breathing tube was the ultimate step to freeing him, but oh so difficult to do and to watch.
Laying beside him in the hospital bed, recounting our meeting, our courtship, our marriage, our love and our lives - this was his last night on earth. In the middle of the night, Cheryl, our nurse came in, gave us a smile and said, "I don't know what you are talking about, but every once in a while his heart rate jumps up there.". We were on the same wave length. Later she returned and as she was leaving, she turned around and said, "enjoy his warmth". I didn't totally understand then - I do now. I will forever feel grateful that on his last night on the planet, I slept in his arms, holding him with all I am or ever will be.
So, here I sit in the kitchen in San Antonio, listening to baby gurgles, feeling sadness mixed with such gratitude and hope. Once again touching the wound that will never quite heal. Memories assail me this morning. There is more to come.........
Sunday, June 19, 2011
The Beginning of the End
Yet, I stood in the shower this afternoon and wept.
It is not the sadness that hurts me. It is the loss of the potential of something very wonderful. I cannot settle and I cannot change anything or anyone but me.
So, I will just have to be sad.....I believe there is much more to come.
Sunday, May 08, 2011
The Grief Project
Please visit our new website. The Grief Project. It is the dream of my heart and now it lives. I have walked with other widowed people for the last several years, it is my new life's work. This project is the formal part of that work. A call to action for those who wish to help. A safe place for those in pain. Please visit the website and let me know what you think.
Tonight I am in bed writing this on my IPad. I am having a bit of trouble sleeping. Tonight I miss Tom with an intensity that I have not felt in a long time. Tears. Longing. Anger that he is gone. Wishing for a life that vanished so long ago. Wishing for my husband who loved me to the bottom of his heart and told me so daily. Wishing for his shoulder to lay my head on, wishing for his hand to hold, wishing for his gentleness, his easy manner, his unconditional love. Even after six and a half years my pillow is wet with tears. I miss you honey - I miss you.
Tonight I am in bed writing this on my IPad. I am having a bit of trouble sleeping. Tonight I miss Tom with an intensity that I have not felt in a long time. Tears. Longing. Anger that he is gone. Wishing for a life that vanished so long ago. Wishing for my husband who loved me to the bottom of his heart and told me so daily. Wishing for his shoulder to lay my head on, wishing for his hand to hold, wishing for his gentleness, his easy manner, his unconditional love. Even after six and a half years my pillow is wet with tears. I miss you honey - I miss you.
Thursday, May 05, 2011
Reflections on the Eve of a Launching a Dream
This week is a tornado of activity - my work is very complex, this is the part of leadership transition that is the most chaotic - it is a critical time of engagement with the board, staff and community and it is a time to collect a great deal of data as part of a deep organizational assessment. This week is also the week that I have been preparing to launch The Grief Project website. This is the project I have mentioned over the years - it is a project that has captured my heart and soul. I have dreamed it and worked on it since 2005 - every so often putting it temporarily on hold while I honored my own journey and healed.
My work with organizations used to be my life's work - now it is the work I enjoy, but it has become the thing I do to fund and fuel the my new life's work - companioning the bereaved. What a blessing.
This week, as I have worked early, early in the morning and late into the night - with client work in between - Tom has been very present. I have driven by the old familiar places and a couple of times I have felt that old, old tug in my heart. Tears in eyes and longing in my heart, a frequent refrain the last few days.
Last weekend was Tom's birthday. For the first time, my guy and I went to the cemetery together. He helped me to select flowers and drove me to Fort Snelling. It was an amazing experience. At one point I turned around and he had tears in his eyes as did I. He knows - he will long for his late wife until the end of his own days. Joy and Sorrow. Life.
I feel so fortunate to have walked the deepest, darkest path through the arid desert and burning hell of the grief journey. I feel so fortunate to have this relationship with a man who has walked his own painful road. Here we are - survivors - standing in the light - walking hand in hand and taking it a step at a time. Laughing, playing, sharing tender moments, looking forward - just being, being together in the moment.
What an appropriate thing tonight - to honor Tom and know that this new project will make a difference to so many. Thank you Tom for all you gave to me - thank you for watching as this dream comes true. Thank you Spirit - blessings abound.
My work with organizations used to be my life's work - now it is the work I enjoy, but it has become the thing I do to fund and fuel the my new life's work - companioning the bereaved. What a blessing.
This week, as I have worked early, early in the morning and late into the night - with client work in between - Tom has been very present. I have driven by the old familiar places and a couple of times I have felt that old, old tug in my heart. Tears in eyes and longing in my heart, a frequent refrain the last few days.
Last weekend was Tom's birthday. For the first time, my guy and I went to the cemetery together. He helped me to select flowers and drove me to Fort Snelling. It was an amazing experience. At one point I turned around and he had tears in his eyes as did I. He knows - he will long for his late wife until the end of his own days. Joy and Sorrow. Life.
I feel so fortunate to have walked the deepest, darkest path through the arid desert and burning hell of the grief journey. I feel so fortunate to have this relationship with a man who has walked his own painful road. Here we are - survivors - standing in the light - walking hand in hand and taking it a step at a time. Laughing, playing, sharing tender moments, looking forward - just being, being together in the moment.
What an appropriate thing tonight - to honor Tom and know that this new project will make a difference to so many. Thank you Tom for all you gave to me - thank you for watching as this dream comes true. Thank you Spirit - blessings abound.
Thursday, February 17, 2011
Walking the Widow Road
The fiery widowed road is beyond the understanding of anyone who has not been forced to tread its path of pain and sorrow. In the early parts of the journey, there are days that death seems preferable to continuing to arise and face another morning.
Slowly oh so slowly - we heal - slowly oh so slowly - we create a new life. In my early widow years it was inconceivable that life could EVER be joyful again.
Slowly oh so slowly - we put one foot in front of the other on the devastating widowed road. There comes the day we first smile and immediately feel guilty - "he is dead", what is wrong with me?!
There are days we feel we can face life with some optimism and ten minutes later we fall into the deep, black hole of tears and hopelessness. Somehow, we manage to dig ourselves out of the ravages (over and over) to face another day.
One day at a time - one foot in front of the other - the beat goes on - somehow.
The journey brings many lessons, real lessons, not words - they have become the values that guide my life.
Love is all that matters.
We have nothing but this moment in which we stand
Material things are transitory at best
Take no person for granted
Never leave those you love in anger
A person can withstand more pain than one ever imagined
True friends stand with you - no matter what!
Kindness and time are the greatest gifts we can give
Now in my seventh year of widowhood (six years in November) I have found a companion. A man who has walked his own widowed road. Slowly oh so slowly we are developing a deep, deep care for one another. Slowly oh so slowly I am opening my heart to the possibilities. Slowly oh so slowly I am coming to the place that I can say from very deep in my heart and soul - how I feel. Stay tuned for more......
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