The Friendship Begins

I have started to write some comments to myself on what grief is. This is sort of like journaling, which is supposed to be helpful for someone dealing with getting through grief. I have resisted doing it because I don't think you ever get "through" grief. It becomes part of who you are.  This is my journey of grief and is something that while deeply personal, is evident to all who see and know me. If you want to read more explanations about Jacob and his life, go to http://www.carepages.com/. and type in "jacob's journey." You will have to register, but it is a secure site.

So.....here goes......

Grief has changed me. I will always remember watching an interview of one of the women who lost her husband in the Twin Towers durintg the 911 attack. Here's sort of how it went:

Interviewer: "How has the sudden loss of your husband affected you?

Widow: "I will never be the same. My friends look at me and say they want the old person back. I am the face of grief and I WILL NEVER BE THE SAME."

 I just remember hearing the deep hurt in her voice that people actually thought she could get on with her life. I knew that one day I would be experiencing that deep, gut-wrenching kind of grief. I hoped, I hoped, I hoped I wouldn't have to - but I am above all, very much a realist, and I knew I would outlive Jacob. As we are approaching the one year anniversary of his death, I am learning to embrace grief. It is my constant companion, so why not get to know it better? There are nano-seconds when grief is not right in my face -that brief moment between sleeping and waking up when life seems as it should be. That's about it; as my first graders would say, we are BFF - best friends forever.

So, in order to be a good friend, I have decided to embrace this grief and learn to live with it. Many of my friends have said that perhaps I need to see a counselor to help me deal with this grief. My response is that a counselor can not bring Jacob back, so why would I waste that time and money doing that (there's that pragmatic side coming out). My family doctor says that I am doing all the right things: surrounding myself with supportive friends and family members, going to work everyday, exercising, developing new hobbies and interests, taking meds to help, so what else is there to do?

Well, I am going to start writing about what it feels like to embrace grief. I am not writing to help anyone else, though if it does, I'm glad. If you want to share your own journey while I am writing this, please do this. I only ask that you be authentic and tolerant of my and other's words. I am writing this for purely selfish, therapeutic reasons. If you want to respond, please do.

Please don't worry about me if you read something that alarms you. I am not going off the deep end. I do believe in the natural order of the universe, children are not supposed to die before there parents. I know all the theological responses that people are thinking. Please don't  tell them to me. I have had a lifetime to explore why life is so hard sometimes. Grief is not unknown to me or my family. My father died after a lengthy illness when I was ten, so grief was something I was raised with. I had a wonderful model from my mother about how to pick yourself after a devastating loss and keep putting one foot in front of the other.

But, back to the reason for this blog.....

At this time, one year ago, life seemed to be pretty calm, for once. Ben and his family were doing well in Texas. Katie was well established in her job and busy with friends. Richard was enjoying his new job with Lifeway. I was looking forward to a nice summer with no graduate school to think about. I was even toying with the idea of returning to school for a doctorate, but was going to take the summer off. We were able to go to church as normal people - not as a staff family- and if we wanted to go somewhere on the weekend, we could. This was something we had never been able to do in our 33 years of marriage. We were ready to enjoy the empty nest. We had just moved Jacob into a house in Rome where he was living with three of his good friends from Shorter. He had just completed a Maymester at Shorter and was going to summer school. He was determined to graduate on time. His second heart transplant had set him back a semester and he was bent on graduating with his friends. Before the summer session started, he was going to go to a yearbook retreat with the yearbook staff from Shorter.

I remember that he was so nervous about picking a friend up from Douglasville and driving through Atlanta during rush hour traffic on a Wednesday morning. Jacob was a very cautious driver and had never driven through Atlanta before. I remember that he expressed enough anxiety about this, that I offered to drive him and his friend to the retreat up in Northeast Georgia. I guess being his mom gave me an extra intuitive sense that he was more than just nervous about this. As I look back, I realize that he wasn't feeling well, but he was pushing himself to go to this retreat. We did call the transplant nurse before he left. We were nervous about some fluid retention he was having. This was a chronic problem he had had most of his life. She told me what to do, said she trusted me to know if I though he was well enough to go on the retreat. Oh, how I wish she hadn't trusted me that much. We should have taken him to the hospital then.

But on to reality.....On Friday, June 12th (what would have been my dad's 84th birthday), I was so enjoying my summer vacation. I met my friend, Gayle, and we went shopping (one of my favorite hobbies) to a neat little place in Smyrna called, "Pie In The Sky."  I bought a green, overnight bag there. This is significant to me only because for years, I had kept an overnight bag packed and ready for our many emergency trips to the hospital. I had finally unpacked that bag - a big statement to me that Jacob was doing well. I wasn't going to buy the bag because I really didn't need it; however, I thought it would be nice to have when I travelled with Richard during the summer - again, a beginning of a new phase in my life. Memories of those emotions still haunt me when I use this bag, but that's for another post. Gayle and I had lunch with my wonderful daughter and just had an all-around good day. It's funny (not really funny, but don't know the right word), how life changes so fast. I pulled into the garage that afternoon, unpacking all my shopping treasures.

Jacob drove in at the same time. He had survived his first trip driving through the city. I was ready to greet him and congratulate him on his driving trip. He walked into the garage and I will never forget this moment.....he looked at me, started crying and said, "Momma, I don't feel so good." His feet were so swollen, as well as his hands, face, etc. I took one look and knew something was wrong.

So, my pretty, new, green bag was packed quickly for its' initial trip -not for a weekend get-away with my husband, but for frantic, panic-filled trip to Egleston. It's funny how the mind works - I remember quickly packing that bag, throwing my "hospital" clothes into it, hoping this was just for nothing, wondering if I was overpacking. I was sure we were just here for the weekend. We would get Jacob some IV diuretics and be on our way home in a few days. This was just a little bump in my summer plans. We had done this so many times in his 21 years. I knew he was sick and was very worried, but he had ALWAYS rallied and overcome each setback. Little did I know that I was beginning a new lifelong journey of embracing grief.