A week ago, I turned on the station for the first time since Mom passed, and this song came on:
It was perfect that it was a rainy day, but it wasn't a Monday. The Carpenters were one of Mom's favorites. She knew the words to almost all of their songs, and had their music at home. Oddly enough, I think her favorite CD of theirs was their Christmas CD. It's such a classic in our house that the case is falling apart, and the inside pamphlet is missing.
I cried all the way home listening to it. I got home, sat in our driveway, and cried.
I cry a lot now. A lot more than I ever have. I surprise myself daily with just how many tears I can produce, even after days of crying.
I became curious recently and looked up the stages of grief. I saw that many articles were not about the stages themselves, but more that they were fictitious, and that the "creator" of them didn't mean for everyone to take them so literally. But I have to disagree.
The stages of grief are very real. I know. I'm experiencing them right now. Denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance are all a part of my daily life.
In my previous post, I talked about the immediate emotions I had after the doctor told us the news. What I didn't discuss was what happened as the doctor came into the room.
The doctor walked into the room and sat opposite my dad. I sat on my dad's left, and Brother on Dad's right. When the doctor sat, he sighed. My instant reaction: ok. prepare for the worst. "we got her, but it's not good. she'll be a vegetable" (Mom NEVER wanted that--she was too social/active). The nurse, who had been with us from the beginning of the morning, and was so kind and instantly loved Mom as a patient, came in with tears streaming down her face. My second reaction: That's kind of weird. I've never seen nurses cry before over a patient. ER nurses have probably seen the worst. Unless she...
I swiftly covered my ears and loudly said, "No. No I don't want to hear it. Please. Don't say it. I can't. I just can't deal with it. No!" The doctor waited patiently for me, and then broke the news.
Denial. In its ugliest form. I look back at that and feel so sorry for the doctor, who had a grown adult woman screaming in his ear.
Anger. I am still in that stage. Everyday, I talk to God. No, I'm sorry...I don't talk to God. I yell at him. I spew out harsh words in my head, all aimed right at Him.
Why would you do this?
What the he** is wrong with you?
Is killing people something you like to do?
Do you enjoy seeing me cry so much? Seeing me so broken?
Every time one of Dad's siblings died, I saw a piece of his heart break. Now, his father dies, and a larger piece of his heart breaks. Granddad was so important to Dad. Then, you kill his wife. His soul mate. Now his heart is completely shattered. Do you enjoy this, God? Are you happy? Does this make you feel good, like you're in charge, and people better not forget it? So you'll show us by killing off our family members?
Does it feel good, pushing already religious people to the brink, to where they wish they could be dead so they could be with their loved ones?
He never answers. And He never will, until I get up there. I had a terrible dream where I reached Heaven, and I was walking with God to the pearly gates, and I finally said, "Why?" His response: *shrugs* "I don't know..." *facepalm*
Depression. Hard to get to or out of that stage, especially when you have already been diagnosed with depression and are taking medications for it...
Bargaining. I have sort of gone through this, and sort of not. I don't bargain for Mom's life. I know she's not coming back. I do wish I would have passed instead of her, as she had her whole retirement and golden years ahead of her to spend with Dad. I know Dad goes through this daily: "Maybe if I had been more affectionate or loving, God would have spared her." It hurts because I want to help him, but I'm angry with God, so my only response is, "God doesn't care anymore. He does whatever He wants, and doesn't care of the consequences." And then Dad is more depressed.
Acceptance. I refuse it. I REFUSE to accept her death right now. She was young, compassionate, extremely intelligent, funny, loving, warm, gracious, and above all, lived a religious life with HUMILITY. One of the most recent Bible readings was about an "eye for an eye". The passage states that if any should strike you on the right cheek, turn and present the other, or don't let someone goad you into an event that could become evil in nature. Mom was a living example of that--people talked bad about her (and to her) all the time. I know. I have heard much of it. And do you know what Mom did? She told me that it was more important to just let others talk and to not argue or fight with them because that would accomplish nothing and make both involved have a bad day. She didn't like holding grudges, because "...why hold grudges with others when I am so happy being with my family?"
So why does God think it's ok to take someone who follows in Jesus' path?
Anger. So much anger. And I apologize for this post being mostly anger, but it's just the way I feel now.
Rainy days and Mondays always get me down.
