My attitude towards grief has been driven by my love for Maureen, my desire for our children to have her presence in their life and by fear. It may be unusual to have these opposite extremes as motivating factors, but they are intertwined for me and difficult to separate from each other.
Over the years we had evolved to form a truly loving partnership that not only reflected in our love and respect for each other, but also filtered down to the love we shared for our children. She will forever be their Mom, and while I can’t physically bring her back to share all those moments/milestones throughout their lives, I’ve felt that it is important for them to know she is still there with them in spirit.
It is out of this powerful emotion of love, that my fear is manifested. It seems to me, that the more intense and profound the love, the deeper and darker the potential depths of grief. While never previously personally experiencing the death of a loved one, I have witnessed the crippling effects it can have on people through real life experiences as well as books, movies, etc. I’ve seen devastation; jobs lost, houses lost, lives turned completely upside down due to loss of a loved one. Grief is a powerful and destructive force and is the source of my fear.
“Someone I loved once gave me a box full of darkness. It took me years to understand that this too was a gift”
Maureen and I had many opportunities over the last few years of her life to have candid conversations about death. She also understood the damaging effects of grief and how we would cope in her absence, always seeking my assurance that I would do my best to pick myself up and carry on with my life in a positive manner (In retrospect, I was so naïve). While I always thought she was brave in accepting and facing her illness and end of life, it is now clear how truly remarkable she was in helping us all prepare for life without her when it would have been understandable to become self-involved with her own bitter fate.
In the immediate aftermath of her death, my assurances that I was able to so confidently convey in life, now seemed nearly impossible. There was a feeling of overwhelming sadness, coupled with the challenge of suddenly becoming an only parent while being completely lost. I could put on a brave face most days, but I was befuddled. My mind was so preoccupied that it was difficult to remember things, stay organized, make decisions or even get out of bed in the morning. Suddenly those fears of crippling grief were looming like vultures.
I don’t know how things would have been without children, but they were certainly a motivating factor for me. Knowing that I had four children depending on me for strength, direction and support was significant. Everyone has their own unique relationship with grief, for me, I knew I needed it out in the open. As a day dreamer with millions of thoughts and ideas constantly running through my head (sometimes taking over completely), I was afraid that grief would destroy me if I did not let it out. Grief scared the shit out of me, but I was not going to run away and hide from it. I wanted it out in the open, where we could see it, where we could experience it, where we could really get to know it.
I talked openly with the kids about life without Mom. One night/week we would share favorite memories. We would make jokes about her and have a laugh at her expense (the bickering table is our favorite ongoing joke). We would talk about what makes us sad, what makes us happy and about what we miss about her. Sometimes there would be laughter, sometimes there would be tears. The grief was there with us out in the open, not some monster lurking in the darkness, haunting us every day.
“Those who don’t know how to weep with their whole heart don’t know how to laugh either” Golda Meir
I have not conquered grief, I doubt there is such a thing. I have however faced my fear of it. Grief will forever be a part of my life and I never know when it will decide to come and visit me. Some days there is a sense of sadness and melancholy and I just let it be. I let it come and keep me company, listen to what it has to say and then let it go on its way again. I’ve learned from grief, and let it change me (reluctantly at times). Sometimes it comes and decides to stick around for a while and try to take over. It’s during these times that I remember my assurances to Maureen. “I will pick myself up and carry on”. It’s not always that easy, but that is the least I can do for you😊
♡♡
This is amazing. Your words are perfect. Thank you for being so honest, so open, so true. Inspiring
Keep writing, Mike! You and Maureen are both inspiring. (Also, you’re a great writer!)
Mike, I am so honored being a part of what you and your family dealt with before Maureen’s death and since. I am grateful that I am a small part of the healing process for one of your children. And, I know that others at KHS are as involved with that child and with another. And, knowing MSK, I’m sure that, they, too, are being watched over and loved. I agree with another of your readers who asked that you keep on writing. I believe that your writing and inward searching is helping you continue with the inner loss of your true love. The community continues to honor and miss and love Maureen. Anything that we can do to help, we will do.