GRIEF - ONE SIZE NEVER FITS ALL

Much has been studied and reported about grief.  We have all heard about the stages of grief and the requirement that one has to go through them to go forward emotionally.  The most frequent  statement is that we must express our grief or it can't be put to rest.

It is four months ago today that my husband died.  He was hospitalized for 22 days.  He went through a complete round of chemo during that time.  He struggled physically and emotionally.  He would say to the Palliative Care team that he looked at the disease as a "blessing - a new beginning".  He never talked that way.  The entire family engaged in eye rolling over that one.  But generally he was himself to the day he died.  Difficult, demanding, hard working, sentimental, loving.

I loved my husband of 35 years.  Our relationship was interdependent in many ways.  I am a nurturer by nature. As a lonely only child he sopped up all that I did for him with gratitude. He was my protector, provider and companion.  We have 3 amazing children.  We - all five of us - are independent people.  We agreed to let him go when it was clear he was not going to recover, we were at his bedside when he breathed his last breath.  We told stories and laughed and none of us thought he would go as quickly as he did because it was his way to put up a fight and drag things out.

I did not cry then - and have shed very few tears since.  We went home and started getting things organized the next day.  I did not take to my bed.  I did not feel that there was no reason to go on, or that my life was over. I recognized that my life had completely changed - but that I am still my whole self.

After the initial shock had worn off and many tasks had been taken care of and things around his death had slowed a bit - I started to wonder if there was something wrong with me.  I didn't feel I was denying any of my emotions but I wasn't distraught.  I felt pretty secure in the decisions I was making.  When I felt overwhelmed by things I took a step back.  I engaged in self care - went for walks, made sure I ate well. But still I wondered if I was "normal."

I went online and looked at information about grief.  I don't think I am repressing things - Brene Brown would say I was not being authentic, that I was denying my negative emotions and that suppression would bring more suffering.  I don't think so.  I am not denying who I truly am.  I am not fearful of being unlovable.

I had and still sometimes have a lot of anger toward my husband for the financial situation he left me in - but I also recognized immediately that he suffered knowing what was coming for me and I have, as best I can, forgiven him for it.  So I explored if that combination of being sad and mad was something others had experienced - and there is a bit out there about similar situations - but mostly it goes back to the "stages of grief" kind of anger.  So I was satisfied with the general sentiment that not everyone grieves the same way, on the same timeline - one size doesn't fit all understanding of grief.

Then I ran across some newer studies about resilience.   I am nothing if not resilient.  The Mrs. Brightside moniker is all about that. For me it isn't about glossing over or denying the negative - it is about finding your way through by focusing on what is possible, the positive, the light.

George Bonanno's studies and book The Other Side of Sadness: What the New Science of Bereavement Tells About Life After Loss  is about "studies which followed bereaved people over long periods of time we always found tremendous variability in how people react to loss. We found a pattern we call "resilience" in between one third and two thirds of bereaved people. It looks like the term suggests. People who show a resilient outcome struggle initially with the pain of loss, as almost everyone does, but they manage to deal with the sadness and distress with equanimity. Their pain is acute, usually lasting most pointedly for a few days to a few weeks but then begins to subside. It is not that they don't grieve, or that they didn't care; far from it. Rather, they are able to put the pain aside when they need to and they continue to meet the demands of their life. They even laugh and experience moments of joy. They accept the loss, readjust their sense of what is, and move on."

I don't report this as in "I am of superior mental health" than people who are traumatized and grieve for years and years.  I am well aware that sudden, violent loss or the loss of a child is much different and creates more of a PTSD response.  I am just comforted by the approach that lets me know I am not a cold, unfeeling or suppressed person for experiencing my grief in my way.

I'M STILL MRS. BRIGHTSIDE

The last time I posted I was getting back into the swing of things after getting 2 new knees.  For the record, that has continued to be a great improvement in my life.  My husband Tom and I increased our mileage on our bikes and though I never managed to become a great hill climber - with the addition of an electric wheel on one of my bikes, we joined a biking group and took many wonderful rides.

So what brings me back to writing here? I always thought I'd get back to writing when I  stopped working full time - but my life has taken a wholly unexpected turn. I was trying to figure out how to update my profile with my new information. (Still can't figure out how.)  I considered starting a whole new blog.  Anyway...

We had just moved into a different house, both of us were exhausted from the effort. That Tom was tired and sore was a surprise because he's in such great shape, but not too worrisome - after all we are in our mid-sixties.

A couple of weeks later, on the last day of my job, my husband called an ambulance and got himself to the ER.  I left my retirement party and by the time I got to the hospital, the blood draw they had done was already conclusive that he had leukemia - so acute that they were pretty stunned he'd been upright for the past few days.

 Long story short - he was transferred to a hospital in Oakland where they specialized in treating AML. He started chemo a couple of days later.   It was 22 days from the diagnosis to the day we let him go due to multiple organ failure.  The chemo had worked, but his body was not up to the side effects.

I will save many of the stories and information I learned for future posts. Pretty much living in the hospital for 3 weeks, gathering, dispersing and then gathering the family again,  working with the doctors, nurses and Palliative Care team was all consuming in addition to his needs and demands and frustrations.  In many ways I shut down my emotions and here I am three months later and only now just starting to get my feelings back.  And I will tell you - they are a real mixed bag.

I will be writing with some frequency to express my feelings, thoughts and experience on this most unexpected turn in my life.