For almost eight years my life had been focused on caring for O. J. through his continuing strokes and TIAs,heart attacks, cancer, and dementia. His last two months were spent in a medical unit at Tuscaloosa Veteran's Administration Medical Center. Grief had overwhelmed me for weeks before his passing. We had talked of when this time would come, over the years of his illness and he was determined that I would resume a normal life as soon as possible after his passing. He had little respect for those who hung on to grief for months and years and often said it was not so much sadness for the one gone as self pity for the one left behind.
Working through the steps of grief through sadness, confusion, and anger came easier for me since I had faced them with him as he dealt with his own feelings. Nights of crying became less as days were filled with the many legal and fiscal obligations of death and the decisions for assuming the role of single head of household.
I taught my ladies's Sunday School class the day after the funeral for the first time in three years. I invited friends over for dinner immediately and we shared memories, laughs and tears over the table we'd shared so many times before.
I wrote long personal thank you notes for flowers, food, and other kindnesses during the funeral days. If tears came I let them flow without apology and kept Kleenex handy. I took time to visit those who had been widows far longer and gained from their wisdom.
No one had told me that a reverse "nesting instinct" was often part of the process of finding who I now was and the direction my life should go. Old clothes were sorted and given away. Painting and other repairs long delayed were completed. I volunteered as a Hospice helper and took the training for visiting and helping families dreading a member's passing. I sat with clients as they dictated funeral desires and plans for those who families refused to talk of such things. I took casseroles to families who work schedules made cooking a depensible chosre. People called me to accompany them to funeral homes for moral support as they bought a funeral.
I lost 25 pounds in 3 months without trying. The lump in my throat made eating difficult and soon I was eating less. Walking, working out flower beds and Hospice work made me more physically active and helped me sleep at night. Writing out my feelings and putting the writings aside gave me release and kept me from exploding over those in my path.
By August I was ready to go back to school. Although I had three degrees in professional areas, I wanted to develop skills in a different direction. A local community college offered low tuition for seniors and a full menu of subjects for retirees. I signed up for credit courses, noncredit ones, and all the free self help classes available. It was fun back in the classroom again pn the student side of the desk. Nineteen years olds were helpful and professors were patient. I loved it.
Monday, June 13, 2011
The Wall-Dealing with grief
The early morning sunlight burned through my swollen eyelids as I struggled to hold on to the last remnants of sleep.The funeral had been Saturday, and family members were home and back to their normal pursuits. O. J. was gone. The long months fighting all the different complications of his illness had ended and it would never be us again. Tears began to form. Then in my mind I could hear what O. J. would say, “Quit your bawling and get out and do some of the things you’ve wanted to do before you became my nurse. Get busy with your own life.”
A shower and a cup of coffee later, I thought of all the jobs long put off. That dark paneled hallway was so depressing. There was some pale yellow paint left over from a touch up. Just take down all the pictures, pull out the nails, and paint. By 7:00 am, paint, rollers, a short ladder, and a tube of toothpaste were sitting on the strewn newspapers that covered the hall carpet. I’d read that you could stop up the nail holes with toothpaste if you had no spackling.
If I had company for supper I wouldn’t have time to start crying. I called my mother, a widower friend, and two couples that often came for dinner in other years and invited them over for a home cooked meal at 7:00 pm.
What could I cook that didn’t require watching? There was that frozen turkey bought to cook for Christmas, before we spent December and January in the hospital. There were canned green beans, a uncut pound cake someone had bought, plenty of salad makings from a raw veggie tray left from the wake. I thawed the turkey in the microwave, rubbed it down with seasonings and oil, placed it in the oven at 275. I mixed a Jello salad and placed it in the frig. Supper was on it’s way.
A no longer valid credit card smoothed the toothpaste into the nail holes and left an even finish for painting. The 12 foot hallway was covered in under an hour, but the light color showed dents and shadows of the patched nailholes. The water based paint was drying fast.
Camouflage! That’s what I could do. I could make flowers the way a late night decorating show illustrated. Random flowers. There was a can of blue paint just the color of delphiniums that had hardly been used in the shed. With a one inch paint brush I painted blossoms 12 inches apart at my eye level all the way down the hall. Not bad. 18 inches below that row I repeated with blossoms alternating halfway between those in the first row. The design was repeated down the hall on both sides.from floor to ceiling.
As I ate leftovers for lunch I surveyed my project. There were still rough spots under the yellow paint. Green stems and leaves. I could make green Y shapes for stems and a leaf for each blossom. Just a dash of green connected to each flower. Still needs a highlight. Butterflies! Semiabstract. Two brush flips of orange randomly placed. They harmonized nicely.
The school bus roared down the road. It’s 3:30, and I’ve got company at 7:00. Paint dripped newspapers were tucked away in the trash. Paint cans disposed off. Brushes washed for another project. Yellow, green, blue, and orange drops, spots, and smudges were on my hands, my face, my glasses, and my clothes. After I bundled the clothes in the trash, I ran a hot bubble bath and scraped paint off me until I was presentable.
The good dishes that had not been used for years went on the Damask tablecloth with matching cloth napkins and silver while I listened to the 5:00 o’clock news. Turkey smells filled the house. I stirred up a pan of cornbread dressing and poured it in around the turkey.
A touch test proved all the paint dry except the butterflies. By the time guests arrived there would be no problem. A flicker of guilt about writing thank you cards for funeral flowers was dismissed with “I’ll think of that tomorrow'. A spray of air freshener before a quick run with the vacuum cleaner lightened the mood of the house.
Just 15 minutes with my feet propped up can get me going again. Why not a dressy dress for a party feel? A little makeup and hairspray and I was ready when the doorbell rang at 5 minutes until 7:00. Guests helped me take up the turkey, dressing, and green beans. One tossed the salad and brought out the Jello. Another put ice in glasses and poured the tea. As we bowed for the blessing I could almost hear O. J. say, “That’s more like it. It’s time for you to build a new life.”
A shower and a cup of coffee later, I thought of all the jobs long put off. That dark paneled hallway was so depressing. There was some pale yellow paint left over from a touch up. Just take down all the pictures, pull out the nails, and paint. By 7:00 am, paint, rollers, a short ladder, and a tube of toothpaste were sitting on the strewn newspapers that covered the hall carpet. I’d read that you could stop up the nail holes with toothpaste if you had no spackling.
If I had company for supper I wouldn’t have time to start crying. I called my mother, a widower friend, and two couples that often came for dinner in other years and invited them over for a home cooked meal at 7:00 pm.
What could I cook that didn’t require watching? There was that frozen turkey bought to cook for Christmas, before we spent December and January in the hospital. There were canned green beans, a uncut pound cake someone had bought, plenty of salad makings from a raw veggie tray left from the wake. I thawed the turkey in the microwave, rubbed it down with seasonings and oil, placed it in the oven at 275. I mixed a Jello salad and placed it in the frig. Supper was on it’s way.
A no longer valid credit card smoothed the toothpaste into the nail holes and left an even finish for painting. The 12 foot hallway was covered in under an hour, but the light color showed dents and shadows of the patched nailholes. The water based paint was drying fast.
Camouflage! That’s what I could do. I could make flowers the way a late night decorating show illustrated. Random flowers. There was a can of blue paint just the color of delphiniums that had hardly been used in the shed. With a one inch paint brush I painted blossoms 12 inches apart at my eye level all the way down the hall. Not bad. 18 inches below that row I repeated with blossoms alternating halfway between those in the first row. The design was repeated down the hall on both sides.from floor to ceiling.
As I ate leftovers for lunch I surveyed my project. There were still rough spots under the yellow paint. Green stems and leaves. I could make green Y shapes for stems and a leaf for each blossom. Just a dash of green connected to each flower. Still needs a highlight. Butterflies! Semiabstract. Two brush flips of orange randomly placed. They harmonized nicely.
The school bus roared down the road. It’s 3:30, and I’ve got company at 7:00. Paint dripped newspapers were tucked away in the trash. Paint cans disposed off. Brushes washed for another project. Yellow, green, blue, and orange drops, spots, and smudges were on my hands, my face, my glasses, and my clothes. After I bundled the clothes in the trash, I ran a hot bubble bath and scraped paint off me until I was presentable.
The good dishes that had not been used for years went on the Damask tablecloth with matching cloth napkins and silver while I listened to the 5:00 o’clock news. Turkey smells filled the house. I stirred up a pan of cornbread dressing and poured it in around the turkey.
A touch test proved all the paint dry except the butterflies. By the time guests arrived there would be no problem. A flicker of guilt about writing thank you cards for funeral flowers was dismissed with “I’ll think of that tomorrow'. A spray of air freshener before a quick run with the vacuum cleaner lightened the mood of the house.
Just 15 minutes with my feet propped up can get me going again. Why not a dressy dress for a party feel? A little makeup and hairspray and I was ready when the doorbell rang at 5 minutes until 7:00. Guests helped me take up the turkey, dressing, and green beans. One tossed the salad and brought out the Jello. Another put ice in glasses and poured the tea. As we bowed for the blessing I could almost hear O. J. say, “That’s more like it. It’s time for you to build a new life.”
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