Comes the Dawn

My aunt passed away towards the end of June 2021.  We were never particularly close, I visited her in California for a couple weeks when I was in middle school, but otherwise contact was limited.  She had some medical issues that prevented her from having children and (what I pieced together) a strained relationship with her father that caused her to sever most ties with the family, with perhaps some jealousy towards the family that my father was able to have.  When she passed away I went with my father to start the estate process.  She had no surviving family, so the next of kin role defaulted to my dad and I suspected that he would need help, if nothing more than emotional support. We walked into an apartment stacked with YEARS of junk mail and paperwork to sift through, books stacked waist high in every room, empty boxes of lightbulbs, and even burned out lightbulbs saved.  In the process of this sifting, I ran across a poem she had printed out that for some reason really struck a chord with me.  I remembered that she had written poetry and even been published in a couple smaller outlets.  She obviously had an attachment to it that spoke to her heart and experiences, but I detect a power in the somewhat universal feelings that are being explored, even if specifically written from a female point of view.

Comes the Dawn

author disputed...

After a while, you learn the subtle difference

Between holding a hand and chaining a soul,

And you learn that love doesn't mean leaning

And company doesn't mean security,

And you begin to understand that kisses aren't contracts

And presents aren't promises.

And you begin to accept your defeats

With your head held high and your eyes open,

With the grace of a woman, not the grief of a child.

You learn to build your roads on today,

Because tomorrow's ground is too uncertain for plans,

And futures have a way of falling in midflight.

After a while, you learn that even sunshine

Burns if you get too much.

So you plant your own garden

And decorate your own soul,

Instead of waiting for someone to bring you flowers.

And you learn that you really can endure,

That you really are strong,

That you really do have worth,

And you learn and learn...and learn...

With every Goodbye, you learn.

Notes that I found within the mountain of miscellany suggest a long-running disgust with her father (my grandfather) and, while I do not know the whole story, it does not seem outlandish.  It strained her relationship with the whole extended family and was always felt as antipathy for the others in the family.  Her animosity towards me was tangible within the papers that I found.  I don't understand the reasons why and will never have the full set of answers.  And I can confidently say that our stories and experiences growing up were different.  Yet, for some reason, this poem connected with me at a deep (even low-frequency) level when I found it in her mountain of papers.  I can feel her feelings and reasons for attachment to the poem, despite holes in the backstory, and even focus in on my own journey through the lens that author has crafted.  Perhaps the feelings explored within are simply casting light upon truly universal human conditions, but part of me feels like I was supposed to find this work for healing within my own microcosm.  Maybe my aunt even guiding me to find it as a gift.

Hopefully, this work strikes a chord with you as well, to start a healing process or add to a foundation of support for the struggles that you are currently experiencing.  People keep saying that it will be alright, and I am hoping that they know something that I don't and are correct.

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GriefShare Support Group

<<<Sidenote First>>>...The night before the support group meeting Jen appeared in my dreams again.  We were back at high school age.  I sat down with her at a lunch table, but it felt like we hadn't 'officially' met yet.  Awkward stares and moments of silence.  I started to talk and then she was standing, staring, concerned.  It had a feeling like, "How dare you talk to me, you don't know me."  Well, maybe not that harsh, but definitely a guarded body language.  I began again, almost in a pleading fashion, but do not recall the exact words...or any words for that matter.  Not sure if I was asking for her to return, asking for forgiveness over 'yelling' at her and saying I was done with the spirit-hijinx, or trying to get out the elusive message that has bothered me for so long.

Additionally, I have started reading the book Radical Forgiveness.  It is a strange way of reframing the issue with the deceased (in my specific case).  Strange in that it is not forgiveness so much as viewing the hurt through a different set of assumptions.  I have just started, so I need to complete the book to fully work the process, but at a high level, we (our souls) all begin as energy, one with God, and connected.  We come to Earth in human form to experience the pain of being separated from God and the collective, and to learn a (pre-determined) set of lessons.  We sign up for the specific and individual experience.  We develop an (or possibly many) assumption from an early experience, likely our lesson that we signed up for, and usually an incorrect conclusion based on flawed assumptions that we developed.  Patterns of hurt continue to repeat in various ways until we work through the flawed assumption.  Other souls are tuned into our soul needs and even provide the hurts and situations we need to correct and learn our lesson.  So we are not actually looking to learn to forgive these souls, but rather to thank them for pushing us to find the solutions that we are here to learn and experience.  At least that is what I think that I have read so far.

So I need to figure out my hurt and the incorrect assumptions that have lead me to keep embracing them and encountering them and then I can see how Jen's accident contributed to the lesson that I need to learn.  Hopefully, later chapters help to identify the underlying bad assumption and hurt.  The ideas that I have bouncing around in my head include, "I matter/My needs matter/I am important enough (at least to the collective)", something around feeling Lost or Destabilized, and/or "I am allowed to be happy", or ???

It is an interesting way to reframe the situation(s), and has lightened my spirits, so I feel it is going in a positive path forward.

Now back to the regularly scheduled program...I went to my first support group meeting, GriefShare.  Upon introducing myself, I only mentioned Jen's death, as that is the one that I keep reliving.  Most others were sharing a multitude of tragedies, so I did feel blessed in a way that waves of death and grief are not my derailment scenario.  The format is one of a video lesson compiled by experts and peppered with first hand accounts of the grief journey, followed by a sharing of reactions and experiences to what we were just exposed to.  It has only been one meeting (of 12 or 13 weeks), but I think the format works and I am very much willing to continue down the path.  There were a few interesting nuggets in video that will warrant further exploration.

• The experience of being numb right after and not recalling much in the first days (even to the point of someone on the video wishing that they had videotaped the funeral).
• That grief is a consequence of Love - where more Love means more hurt upon death.

And while not necessarily called out in specifics, I wanted to dive into more of the notion of

• How to rebuild or recreate relationships and the feeling of connection lost when these important people in our lives are ripped away from us.

I missed the next meeting and got back on track for the third session.  This one went a little sideways...The volunteer leader was not there (out from a surgery) and the group was left to her second in command.  A combination of maybe not explaining myself well in my comments within the group (trying to share that each journey is unique) and this second in command liking to talk, I didn't feel like I was allowed to feel the way I do or the actions that I have taken need to change.  Seemed contrary to the video message and all of the experts' opinions.  This may be one of the downsides to volunteer led groups, someone with a therapy background and experience may be needed to fully realize the benefits of this type of group therapy.  Perhaps I am being too sensitive and need to hear these critiques...I just left feeling, not angry, but disrupted.

I'll give it a couple more weeks before pulling the rip cord and we will see.

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Feedback to a Friend

I had a conversation right after a posting that I put on Facebook referencing Jen (and since deleted) with a friend.  They made a comment about the possibility of a 'spirit' being trapped in limbo if the griever does not release them (get through the grief).  The comment has been rattling around in my brain for a couple months, and not in a good way.  It hurt.  It angered me.  The message received by me was that I was harming (trapping at least) her spirit by still being grief stricken.

I wrote out a response to collect, soften, and make sure I was complete in my thoughts and reaction.  When I originally started out, it was going to be a quick comment to be sent by text.  It grew.  It was heavy.  Texting it seemed to be mean-spirited in itself, while it was not actually intended to be mean, just feedback.  I was then going to call and talk (or read it to them).  It does not allow for rebuttal comments, it is just feedback, honest feedback on feelings.  As I read through it again and again, I started to wonder where input would occur from their perspective?  If they even remember the specific offending comment, would they feel threatened, attacked?  Then I started wondering what I even expected from giving the (unsolicited) feedback?  What was my goal?  To help them when discussing grief and loss with another?  Or to say that I was hurt?  Does it matter?  Does it really change anything?  Does it even harm the relationship?

I am not sure...

But these are the type of questions that I could have gone over with Jen.

<Friend's Name>

 

As I go through the grief process (for the third time..."Slow learner" and "Stupidest smart person you'll ever meet" come to mind) I cannot help but fixate on the comment you shared with me about the possibility of a person stuck in "Limbo" if they are not released by the griever.

 

Honest feedback, as life long friends, it sucked.  Please remove it from your toolbox.  It felt mean.  It feels mean still.

 

I truly believe that it was not intended to be mean.  I am not mad at you for sharing your (potential) belief, per se.  I typically welcome it!  And I am not asking you to believe or not believe a certain way.  It is just that I am not sure this one is helpful for a person in the thorough's of grief.

 

Over the years you have dropped some tidbits of wisdom and insight into how I am perceived by the outside world.  You may not have even realized the scope of the impact when given.  They may not have been requested, sometimes even hurt, but ultimately were (are) true, and they allow me to assess and course correct.  And unfortunately, I do not know how to guide you on assessing the impact that they will have before sharing them, so I continue to welcome (even request and ask for) these nuggets of wisdom and insight, with the commitment to share when they hurt too much (and not in an angry way).  This one really hurt though.

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Can You Spare a Dime?

I thought I was done. Recovery in process. Moving on...But the Tilt-A-Whirl does not stop. Or maybe it is more accurate to say that my mind does not let it stop.

After meeting Jen's family back in August 2020, I had been reflecting on the visit. The soul crushing sadness is gone. Replaced by a low-level sadness, sure. But I think that I needed confirmation that the person I knew was really the person others knew her as too. I was afraid that the two would not be the same, that I was elevating, romanticizing, a connection that was not there or real. Not really interacting with people she knew, I didn't know if they knew the same person. The meeting was good to me in this regard. Confirmation was obtained. Her family brought up memories that were in sync with mine. I was able to answer questions that they had. And they answered many of my questions. I was able to add to back stories, share our single 'date'. It was new information for them, perhaps a little shocking to her Mother, but satisfying to her sister that Jen was able to pull off some typical, even rebellious, teenage shenanigans. The meeting was sufficient to put those concerns to rest. It felt like the door was closing, I had a feeling of peace, healing, and closure could set in and I could move on. I even 'received' a dime at the QuikTrip afterwards, my sign from Jen that she was there, and perhaps smiling.

It seems comical now that I would doubt my relationship and connection to the 'real Jen', but in isolation and after this many years, a mind can play cruel tricks. I was even starting to come to a realization that I may not have been the person for her (if a long term Jen were to have existed), no matter how much I loved her. I just would not have been the person that could have gotten her to her dreams and potential. The funny thing is, by and large, I think I'm okay with it. And in a way that I never would have been back then, if she had to have told me. Intellectually, I know the what-if's are fruitless...yet I still find myself deep in that hole. The recent change that I am starting to come to grips with, even if the accident didn't happen, 'we' may not have happened...or if I did somehow will it to happen, it may have ended poorly. Maybe it is a closure thing in my mind. That she was ripped away and closure (good or bad) never happened. But the more I play with the idea, the more the realization comes that, despite my level of love, I am not sure that the final outcome would have been good. And yeah, that would have sucked, but it would have also been such a disservice to her.

So my emotions began to settle down, for about a month. Then in late September, guess who was calling me in my dreams? What the fuck is wrong with my noggin? I seriously feel done, over it. Sadness has left the building. Why can't my unconscious come for the ride? In the dream, I even told her that I was done. Over it. Seriously, it's okay. She calls me back crying? WTF?!?! I got the confirmation that I was searching for. As much closure as can be expected. What the hell is left, what is my mind still searching for? Is it now just a long, drawn out ache from a hole in my soul? Does this wound ever heal? It has been 30+ years and I still have not figured it out. I have a sneaking suspicion that I never will. And the dimes stopped appearing...

Did I chase her away? Damage the memory or the relationship? With a dead person??? I am sorry! That is not what I meant to do. But I feel like I hurt her...her ghost. I want the dimes back. The gentle reminders, Jen popping into situations and saying, "Hi!", or sometimes even scolding me.

Why do I continue to be drawn towards stories or movies or songs of sadness? Is that the only emotion that I think that I have left to feel? I'm tired of feeling that weight, yet I continue down a path of emotional torment and destruction. Do I feel guilty for feeling happiness? Am I trying to feel other emotions and the only thing that I can muster is sadness? I started re-watching "13 Reasons Why" after my daughter heard the song "The Night We Met" on my playlist and asked, "Depressed much?" I had no idea what she was talking about. She mentioned that it was from the show and I couldn't remember it in there. As I continued to watch the show, it all seemed fresh, like I had never watched it the first time around. When the song came up in the first season, it hit me hard. When it started playing in the second season (which I was less prepared for), I was a blubbering mess. As I watch the series this second time, it was different. I was watching, searching, for a roadmap forward that would help me navigate my feelings. As if I could get guidance from Clay on how to proceed forward, through the loss, even though the death of Hannah and of Jen were very different, the shocking and abrupt loss was similar. Sadly, it did not satisfy those curiosities and no solution was obtained.

I am left with torment and loneliness. Silly, self-inflicted. I feel abandoned by Jen, but at my own doing. And no clear path towards resolution. I ask for her to return, but why? Wouldn't this continue my torture? Did she leave because I hurt her with my statements that I was done and over it? Or does she think that this is best for me? Is it? I am slowly descending into madness, asking for a ghost or spirit or angel to return. One that I told to go away...but I miss it. I miss her!

Why? I have a great family! Some good friends. What is missing that I need? A connection? Or some sort of an answer (and to what question)? So tired...of hurting. Of aching. Of being stuck.

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