Our family has experienced some happy moments, but a lot of loss in the past five years. We started with our beagle-basset (bagel), Willow in 2008. My mother passed away in 2010, followed by our husky, Monkey, just two months later. Our cat, Maya was next in 2012. Then, on Friday, our terrier-mix, Addie left to play with her fur-sisters and my mother. With the exception of Monkey, I had some time to prepare myself emotionally for these deaths. Research says that anticipated deaths are better from a resiliency stand point, but I'm not sure. Yes, it did allow me to spread my grieving over several days, weeks, or months. However, every single time, every time, the loss felt unexpected. I felt like the rug was suddenly pulled out from under me by some invisible force and I'm left there, crying and wondering what the hell happened and utterly confused about how to stand again.
Last Saturday, I learned that my father had been injured. Out of respect, I won't go into the details of what happened and why. At this point, its irrelevant. This afternoon, I was informed that his chances of recovering and surviving were close to non-existent. I processed this news in a very different way than I did my mother. I was defiant when I learned my mother was dying, as if I would not accept that doctor's assessment as a potential reality. With my father, I initially felt distraught, but accepting. But then the anger settled in. Angry at my father. Angry at life and circumstance. Angry at myself for being angry. Angry at other people who wanted to help. When I first heard the news, I told two people (with the exception of my brothers), Craig and my best friend, Serenity. Both are dear to my heart and I am dear to them and they both immediately asked, "How can I help?" But then the questions and requests kept coming and I became increasingly agitated at them. I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT TO DO WITH MYSELF! STOP ASKING ME! In times of crisis, who gives the steering wheel to the most distraught driver? Then I felt angry at getting so irritated with people who felt helpless and only wanted to help. But I started to feel like I was letting people down, disappointing them because I couldn't guide them through my grief.
I eventually came to the realization that I would soon be an orphaned adult. Yes, I looked it up. Its an actual role that all of us get to experience. I cannot begin to explain how empty and lonely that feels. I realize I have family and two brothers who are in the same crowded shoes I am. I know that I have Craig, Sera, fantastic friends, and the most supportive in-laws a girl could ever dream of. However, there is something painful and isolating about realizing that your parents, the two people who are responsible for giving you life and partially responsible for who you are as a person, no longer exist in the physical realm. I can't fully describe it, but I feel almost as if I am only partially existing. If someone else also belongs to the orphaned adult club, if you can explain it, verbalize it, put it into words, I would greatly appreciate it.
You may be wondering why I'm sitting here blogging while my father lays dying in a hospital bed and my family is elsewhere. Because I required the distraction. Because I needed to process it alone for awhile before I felt barraged by well-wishers again. Because I am not accepting reality now.
I know I can't do anything to help. When someone you love is suffering, you want to fix it and that feeling of helplessness and uselessness is so frustrating. You know I'm here if you need me. I really wish I could hug you, because I need one, too.
ReplyDeleteCyndi: when my father died, I went through something similar, and I finally realized it was because I, in come way, measured myself against him. I felt lost because I didn't know who I was without him on this planet. Gradually that feeling went away, but I have never forgotten the almost panicked feeling I went through when I learned that he was gone. Hang in there!
ReplyDelete