I'm both sad and mad literally all of the time. Well, not quite. Occasionally I'm numb, and occasionally I'm numb enough to the pain that I feel some pleasure in watching Ruby romp and play and grow. It's a pleasure from which I feel oddly detached, like I'm watching someone else feel it, since it's so faint that I can't imagine it is really me who feels it.
It's been about two weeks now. I suspect a lot of people think I should be doing fine. After all, I have a puppy. What kind of person isn't happy if she has a puppy? Well, I'm not happy. The first few days, I spent large chunks of time in bed wailing. Not crying, not even sobbing, but wailing. I'm past that point at least, but I still have to remind myself to eat, and sometimes I have to remind myself to breathe. I've had to change the kind of mascara I use, because the kind I used to use turns me into Tammy Faye Baker when I cry. And not only do I feel like I could cry at any minute of the day, but the heartache is so strong that I also feel like I could vomit at any moment of the day.
Adreanne told me that when a nurse she works with recently lost her dog, she went about doing her job while crying all day. Not stepping out from time to time to cry, but simply crying freely as she did her job. I think that's a great idea. But so far, I can't simply cry. When I cry, it's not a matter of tears falling, some sniffles, or even a few sobs. It is full-on wailing. I don't suppose I can go around doing that while I attend classes, ride the bus, study in coffee shops, etc.
I am so angry. It's an unfocused anger, or perhaps just incredible irritability. I didn't expect this aspect of my grief. I know it doesn't make sense to be mad at anyone for Millie's death; it was no one's fault. And I don't. So instead I just feel a wide-spread and general rage at everyone for everything they say or do.
The thought that dominates my mind throughout every day is how I wish I was dead. Honestly, I would rather be dead than feel this way. That's not to say I'm suicidal or that there is any cause for concern. I would rather go on living and feeling this way than impose this terrible burden on my family and friends.
But still. What the hell am I supposed to do?
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Jenna,
ReplyDeleteYou are so right on with feeling how your life can be marked by the loss of your close close friends. It is so true that life will never be quite the same after you suffer such a loss. My first such loss was the loss of my first cat Whiskers. He was my guru no small meaning of the word. When our other pets passed on there was a sense of a group loss or a shared loss among us all. Muppets passing was very tough for me. I felt some shame later becuase I couldn't even bear to be there with him when I took him to the vet for the last time. I felt as though I had let the group down.
When you lose someone that you yourself have a very very close and personal relationship with, what becomes IMMEDIATELY apparent is the fact that no one else had that kind of relationship with that person or pet. No one can POSSIBLY understand. And subsequently those people can't even pretend to feel the grief that we feel. Even though people around us can TRY to be sympathetic, their efforts are feeble at best. Years later we can be very grateful for the people around us that DID try to just provide a quiet supportive environment for us to grieve. Unfortunately is IS the job of those around us to ever so gently nudge us through the process and to ever so gently remind us that we DO need to get up and eat and brush our teeth and walk the beach.
When my parents passed away within days of each other, people around me seemed to be a little more sympathetic because most of them had also been through that intimate, personal experience. I felt a wave of sympathy around me. We were able to move pretty quickly through the transition to the point where we celebrated there lives.
I am still wrestling with the loss of Dwight. I STILL can feel anger at the seeming callousness of people around me. I guess people just don't lose brothers and sisters at a young age very often, so they can't muster up the same level of sympathy. When having a discussion about death recently with some friends I mentioned Dwight and the friend actually leaned across the table and told me I really needed to "get over" his death. I have sinced realized that I just need to be absolutely silent about Dwight with people who never did know him. A brief mention that I had a brother who passed away is all that is needed and alllowed. I love my friends but I need to be mindful of what sympathetic abilites that we all have.
Roberta has been through a lot of similar loses in life and has been perfect for helping me to cope with losses.
For any of you out there who have supported me or who are supporting Jenna, I thank all of you for being there in the toughest moments.
You both write so beautifully about this. I can relate to so much of what you have said here. I remember feeling so angry after Dwight died and I returned to Boston to try to go on with my life. I had been out of work a week and when I went back, no one, not one person, asked how I was doing. People acted unnaturally cheerful around me and said that they were glad I was back, but it was clear to me that people were afraid to ask how I was actually doing. It was like my grief was a disease that made everyone around me nervous and uncomfortable. People needed me and expected me to put them at ease by assuring them that I was ok, or at least acting like I was. I thought about Dwight constantly for weeks. I dreamed about him all the time...immense sadness for what we had lost, but also a lot of reflection on what an amazing person he was. I wanted to talk about him, to tell people about him, but everyone around me seemed to need me to just move on.
ReplyDeleteDad, I think you are right about the limitations on what we can expect from people during these times. We are so lucky to have each other, and even luckier if we have a few deeply intimate friendships. Beyond that, most people are bumbling and awkward when it comes to death. People say that the loss gets easier over time, but six months, a year, even five years now since we lost Dwight, the pain is still just below the surface. I can access the full range of those emotions very easily. That week in DC is incredibly vivid for me and I will never forget it. It is still not at all okay with me that he is gone, and I realize now that it never will be. It is a terrible thing that happened, and it's never going to turn into an okay thing that happened. We all find ways to co-exist with the loss because we have no choice, but that does not mean that the loss itself gets any "easier". I am surprised, Dad, that your friend was callous enough to suggest that you need to "get over" the loss of your brother. Does he have a brother? Grieving Dwight's loss with you has made me love and need my sister even more.
The fact that we now live in a world that no longer contains Millie does not seem acceptable to me. I am trying to understand that reality, but honestly I'm not able to grasp it. I'm sorry Jenna, that I can't even give you a full realization of this loss. I grieve for only a few minutes at a time because that seems to be about the longest that I can cognitively tolerate the facts. My distance from you makes this possible, but I know you don't have the luxury of distance. I would do anything to make this more bearable for you. I know that you are suffering more than I can even imagine and my heart is breaking for you a million times a day. Try to be gentle with yourself right now, rest as much as you can, allow the full range of your feelings and follow your instincts about how to get from one day to the next. Let your family send waves and waves of love to you and consider your own survival a victory. (Be like the squirrel, girl.) All the pain that you are feeling now is equal to the love that you gave to Millie every day of her life. That is A LOT of love and she was the worlds luckiest little pug to have you for a momma.
Dear Jenna,
ReplyDeleteI am so glad and thankful that you are writing these feelings down because it is really good to be able to connect with what you are feeling. I know that as someone from the outside, it is so hard to know what to do, or say, when there isn't possibly anything I could do or say that would make it okay. I know that when my mom got sick, I hated when people would say "let me know if you need anything." The only thing I really needed was for my mom to not be sick, and it was the thing no one could give me. I also understand the anger. Being so mad, but there is nothing to focus it on because really you are mad at the universe, and the unfairness, and the senselessness, and the fact that your heart can hurt so much.
I will leave it there for now because I am typing on a teeny tiny phone screen. But I will continue to read, and I love you, and I wish there *were* a way to soothe your heart.
Thank you guys for your comments. I'm primarily writing this blog for myself, so I didn't even notice that there were any comments until Laila mentioned one yesterday. I do appreciate your thoughts.
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