Felicia Denise's Blog, page 6

#AtoZChallenge G is For Guilt

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The novel coronavirus has claimed more than half a million lives in this country alone since February 2020.

The virus does not discriminate, crossing gender, generational, ethnicity, and socioeconomic groups.

However, it became known soon after the virus was declared a pandemic that senior citizens, people with certain chronic medical conditions, and African-American were high risk for contracting and succumbing to the virus.

My husband and my mother fell into all three groups, and when that information was made public, my first thought was, “I’m glad they’re gone.”

Horrible, right? I thought so too, but I tried to justify it in my mind.

Den was 64 and had End Stage Renal Disease (ESRD) which required hemodialysis three times a week. He’d developed a wheeze because of fluid around his heart, and the origins were still unknown.

Mom was 84 and had scleroderma, pulmonary hypertension, a pacemaker, and a defibrillator. Her doctor said her lungs had the thickness of tissue paper.

Despite their health issues, they were both still quite active.

But, with their compromised immune systems, they wouldn’t have had a chance against covid19.

I’ve lost three family members to the virus, and had four survive it. Their stories of struggling to breathe even though each breath brought intense pain are traumatizing.

Along with the pain, their isolation filled them with fear and anxiety, not knowing if they would live or ever see their families again.

Thinking of Den and Mom going through this breaks my heart all over again.

I miss them both every day, and would give anything to have them back… but only in a covid-free world.

And that is my guilt. I’m glad they’re gone, because living would have brought them only suffering.

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On May 30, 2019, I lost Dennis, my husband of over thirty-five years. Ten short weeks later on August 18, 2019, I lost my eighty-four-year-old mother. My grief journey has not been an easy one. While we know grief has five stages, there are many situations and feelings some bereaved never get to express, and I’m using my first AtoZ Challenge to say things I’ve never been able to give voice to. I hope you’ll follow my journey.

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Image by Okan Caliskan from Pixabay

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#AtoZChallenge F is For Futile

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“We are the Borg. You will be assimilated. Resistance is futile.“

Much like resistance to the cybernetic humanoids of Star Trek fame was futile, resistance to the process of grief is futile.

Trust me, I tried.

I filled my days with blogging book tours, book reviews and author spotlights, and my nights sitting in Den’s recliner staring at the walls.

I’ve always enjoyed cooking, so I’d spend hours browsing the Internet for new recipes to play with, and still spent my nights in Den’s recliner.

I went on a cleaning spree, practically making the place sterile, and it still wasn’t enough. I decided to tackle closets, saving the bedroom closet for last. I spent an entire day in that closet, organizing and packing up Den’s clothes to donate to a homeless shelter, then I spent the entire night putting everything back in the closet, including his clothes.

I was making myself crazy, but it was a secret crazy. No one except me knew the lengths I went to simply for distraction.

My personal dam broke over morning coffee.

I have eleventy-hundred strange, weird, and funny coffee mugs.

Den disliked coffee and had ONE mug for his tea.

Guess which mug I pulled out the cabinet that morning?

I cannot describe the anguish and the pain I felt at that moment.

After what seemed like hours of crying, I had to admit to myself that I couldn’t make myself better.

All the busy activities were futile.

I couldn’t pack the pain away.

I couldn’t choose not to mourn.

Grief would not be ignored.

When I stopped fighting grief, I at last understood that mourning a loss wasn’t a sign of weakness, but a path to healing.

Resistance to it was futile.

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On May 30, 2019, I lost Dennis, my husband of over thirty-five years. Ten short weeks later on August 18, 2019, I lost my eighty-four-year-old mother. My grief journey has not been an easy one. While we know grief has five stages, there are many situations and feelings some bereaved never get to express, and I’m using my first AtoZ Challenge to say things I’ve never been able to give voice to. I hope you’ll follow my journey.

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Image from Pinterest.CO.UK

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#AtoZChallenge E is For Emotions

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The loss of a loved one is naturally an emotional time, regardless of the relationship to the deceased.

Sadness from the shock of the loss, whether expected or not, follows through to the sharing of the news with family and friends, the planning and attending of the service, and well into the weeks and months (and years) ahead.

However, the grief journey is full of emotions that build upon or standalone from the sadness.

If the loss is of a spouse, the emotional roller coaster can be debilitating.

There’s anger and betrayal for being abandoned;

Shame and embarrassment for being alone;

Anguish, melancholy and fear of being alone forever;

Guilt and remorse for words unspoken;

Despair and inadequacy at being unworthy;

Forgotten and ignored when you believe your grief is pushed aside.

Some of these emotions are irrational, some are not, but they’re all valid and personal.

I’ve felt every emotion and thought on this list… some several times. And also heartbreak, heartsick, vulnerable, rejected, and helpless.

Because people don’t often talk about their emotional struggles outside of counseling or their inner circles, I didn’t know my feelings were not unusual until I joined a support group, and entered counseling.

Sharing your issues doesn’t necessarily ease your emotional pain, but it will let you know you’re not alone, weird, or losing your mind.

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On May 30, 2019, I lost Dennis, my husband of over thirty-five years. Ten short weeks later on August 18, 2019, I lost my eighty-four-year-old mother. My grief journey has not been an easy one. While we know grief has five stages, there are many situations and feelings some bereaved never get to express, and I’m using my first AtoZ Challenge to say things I’ve never been able to give voice to. I hope you’ll follow my journey.

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Image by Gino Crescoli from Pixabay

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#AtoZChallenge D is For Died

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“My cell phone died.”

“My laptop died.”

“The fridge died.”

“That doggone car battery died.”

Things around us die every day.  Think about how many times a day we say something died. It’s a regular word—a verb—we use when something is inactive or no longer has life.

However, when loved ones die, it becomes a four-letter word.

I couldn’t say the word for several weeks after Den died without bursting into tears. I say, “He’s gone.”

But, I noticed most folks who reached out to me couldn’t say it either.

They’d say Den, “passed away,” “passed on,” “was in a better place,” “was in heaven,” “sleeping,” and believe or not… “checked out.” Seriously?

I believe for me it was hard to say until I accepted the fact Den was NOT coming back. No matter how many times I looked out the window for him or “heard” his keys in the front door, it changed nothing.

Our three adult children were all very close to their dad, each with their own unique relationship. Lindsey, the youngest, has no problem saying the word. And she talks more about Den than her brothers, Drew and David. They still have a problem using the word died, and I never said anything about it, knowing they would in their own time.

However, when David spoke of “Dad’s departure” just two weeks ago, I knew it was time.

I told him his dad didn’t catch a flight to San Diego or a train to Dallas. He DIED. End of story.

Dave said he never used the word around ME for fear of upsetting ME.

Wait. What?

We talked and straightened it out—with Lin and Drew laughing on the sidelines—and I reminded them all we promised not to tread lightly around each other.

Though the word still stings at times, I got through this post without crying, so I know I’m making progress.

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On May 30, 2019, I lost Dennis, my husband of over thirty-five years. Ten short weeks later on August 18, 2019, I lost my eighty-four-year-old mother. My grief journey has not been an easy one. While we know grief has five stages, there are many situations and feelings some bereaved never get to express, and I’m using my first AtoZ Challenge to say things I’ve never been able to give voice to. I hope you’ll follow my journey.

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#AtoZChallenge Update #1

 

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I’ve never participated in the A to Z Challenge before.

It wasn’t my intention to join the challenge this year either. Just over a week ago, commenting on a friend’s blog about her entry, I said, “This isn’t my year.”

But when inspiration comes, you have to go with the flow.

I’ve written very little about losing Den and Mom. It was always too raw, too close, too real. The words were in my head and heart, but there was a blockage somewhere holding them all inside, suffocating me and exacerbating my grief. So I walked away.

A few weeks ago, my therapist suggested I try writing letters to myself on bad days when my emotions and feelings were out of control.

I did, and it helped. While there were tears, I noticed there was no longer a blockage and the words flowed from me.

This milestone inspired me to use the A to Z Challenge to chronicle my grief journey thus far.

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On May 30, 2019, I lost Dennis, my husband of over thirty-five years. Ten short weeks later on August 18, 2019, I lost my eighty-four-year-old mother. My grief journey has not been an easy one. While we know grief has five stages, there are many situations and feelings some bereaved never get to express, and I’m using my first AtoZ Challenge to say things I’ve never been able to give voice to. I hope you’ll follow my journey.

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#AtoZChallenge C is For Couple

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Married folks have several names for each other inside the marriage… husband, wife, mate, spouse, partner. These labels can also used by those outside the marriage, but one thing all marriages have in common is they’re considered a couple.

I’m no longer part of a couple.

I’m now the single woman, the poor widow, the fifth wheel.

It’s an odd feeling.

It wasn’t that long ago Den and I hosted dinners and cookouts. While so many of the guests were married couples or people in long-term relationships, we always made sure to include our widowed friends. We didn’t want them to ever feel forgotten or left out.

Now that I’m a member of Team Widow, I can understand why widows turned down so many invitations.

It’s hard to attend a gathering of couples… and widows. Even if it’s family.

I’ve accepted exactly one dinner invitation since becoming a widow. Everyone was nice and welcoming. There were no awkward moments or conversations, but I felt out of place… out of sync, and knew it would be a long time before I accepted another dinner invitation. (In the spring of 2020, covid-19 became a pandemic and I didn’t have to worry about dinner invitations.)

Like most couples, Den and I had our shtick. Making faces at each other across the room. Snarky comments at the drink table. And of course, once we got home, a recap of the evening with many movie references and one-liners.

I went to bed one night a married woman, part of a couple, and woke up a widow.  I trembled as I dialed 9-1-1, knowing my life was about to change in ways I wasn’t ready for, and that I would have to face them as a party of one.

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On May 30, 2019, I lost Dennis, my husband of over thirty-five years. Ten short weeks later on August 18, 2019, I lost my eighty-four-year-old mother. My grief journey has not been an easy one. While we know grief has five stages, there are many situations and feelings some bereaved never get to express, and I’m using my first AtoZ Challenge to say things I’ve never been able to give voice to. I hope you’ll follow my journey.

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Photo by Samuel Rodriguez on Unsplash

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#AtoZChallenge B is For Be

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Phrases I have come to hate.

“Time heals all wounds.”

“Give it time.”

“Death is a part of life.”

“The pain will eventually go away.”

“Just let it go.”

“Have you thought about taking up a new hobby?”

These things are said with the best of intentions. But it’s also said the road to hell is paved with good intentions.

It’s a sad Catch-22.

The loss of a loved one is a difficult time, even for those who care about you and want to reach out and let you know you’re on their minds and hearts. Communicating those feelings can be awkward and misunderstood… especially when the person who suffered the loss is in a downward spiral.

It was only days after losing my husband that I began to pull away from people, more so for their sake than my own. I felt guilty as they stumbled over words, trying to find the right ones. I’d smile, thank them, and say I was fine.

But I wasn’t, and I didn’t realize at the time the harm I was doing to myself.

Before she returned home, my daughter found an online support group for me. I wandered in one night and found a long-time member I’ll call Millie.

Well into her eighties, Millie joined the group after losing her husband of more than fifty years. She said she was a retired elementary school teacher, but I believe she would have made a great prison warden! When Millie spoke, you listened, end of story.

I got more insight into myself and the grief journey that night than I’d thought possible.

Millie told me to: stop letting people off the hook, stop apologizing, stop hiding my true feelings.

We talked for hours, but in the end, she made me see all I had to do was BE. Happy, sad, angry, confused… it didn’t matter.  Instead of suppressing feelings and emotions, I should just follow them to wherever they took. I didn’t owe anyone anything. This was my personal journey and I had to travel it the best way I could, and that didn’t include hiding from others or myself.

That twenty months ago, and while I have had some huge, horrible bumps in the road, when I allow myself to simply BE, I always find my way again.

 

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Image by Larisa Koshkina from Pixabay

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#AtoZChallenge A is for Alone

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The loss of a spouse or partner can be devastating and life altering.

It can also be suffocating. At least for me it was.

While I was in shock and trying to wake up from a nightmare, there were notifications to be made and a service to be planned. Our three adult children and my stepson and his family arrived in quick fashion and split up the work, but they were also in shock and emotional pain too.

My sisters kept the kitchen full of food and made sure everyone ate something, and that everyone had a place to rest at night.

Despite being surrounded by people I love, I still felt alone.

My daughter stayed ten days with me after the rest of the family had to return to their lives. But she also had to get back to life as her husband was deploying soon.

The morning we said goodbye was almost as painful as the morning my husband didn’t wake up.

It wasn’t simply that I was saying goodbye to my baby and was anxious about her returning home safely, but when I walked back inside and closed the door, for the first time in thirty-eight years, I was alone. I crawled up into his favorite recliner and cried for the entire day, believing life couldn’t hurt any worse than it did at that moment.

Of course, I was wrong.

Life doesn’t care about anyone’s personal grief.  The legalities of death have to be dealt with and there are time constraints and deadlines. Over the next few days and weeks,  I had to present legal documents and death certificates to change/remove names to comply with the law. I had to erase a lifetime and restart alone.

I died a little each time I had to remove a copy of the death certificate from my file. But it was a visit to our doctor’s office that sent me over the edge.

I’m sure the receptionist meant no harm or disrespect, but as she updated the file, she asked if I now wanted to be addressed as Ms.

I had a meltdown.

Seriously? You want me to erase any evidence I was ever a Mrs. and that the Mr. is now gone? Why don’t I just wear a sign that says, “ALONE?”

I was a total mess and the office staff went above and beyond that day, assisted by two patients who were “seasoned” widows.

One of the women shared a link to the Kubler-Ross Five Stages of Grief—which I’ve received one-hundred gazillion times—but the other woman had a more salty nature and said after three years as a widow, she was tired of being told her feelings about her new life alone were valid and normal.

I understood her words that day, and they still resonate with me.

We take for granted being married or in relationships, but no one ever misses a chance to remind us we’re alone.

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Image by chezbeate from Pixabay

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#MarchWritingChallenge – Thank you, Marquessa!

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I must thank Marquessa for hosting the 31-day March Writing Challenge with questions from Alexandra Franzen‘s “100 questions to spark conversation and connect.

The questions were all unique, with some being light and fun, and others that were thought-provoking, requiring a face-to-face with the man-in-the-mirror.

But most importantly, the challenge helped me achieve a major accomplishment… writing daily for the first time in almost two years.

Thank you, my friend.

Follow Marquessa’s AtoZChallenge during the month of April as she shares her personal thoughts and insights on the devastating issue of domestic violence.

~~~ Image by RitaE from Pixabay ~~~

#MarchWritingChallenge – Day 31 – What are you most grateful for, right now, in this moment?

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This March Writing Challenge of thirty-one questions is hosted by Marquessa, with questions from Alexandra Franzen‘s “100 questions to spark conversation and connect.

All are welcome to join in and a list of the questions can be found here.

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Den and I worked hard to raise our three children to be respectful, grateful, and helpful.

We strayed from that path several times over the years and had many “Why did we have kids?” moments. The teenage years are a penance for everything parents ever did wrong… before becoming parents.

However, we had as many teary, proud mama and papa moments, watching them grow into responsible, caring adults who never missed a chance to help a friend or reach out to someone in need.

But I never thought I’d be the one they reached out to.

I’m the Mom-Beast, the Warden, 5-0, Darth Vader’s mom, the Terminator, and Cruella de Ville… and so many other names my children have given me over that years to describe my protectiveness and fierce nature. But in the spring and summer of 2019, I broke.

However, I wasn’t the only one to experience loss. My children lost their father and maternal grandmother, after losing their paternal grandmother the year before.

But they came together to hold each other up so they could hold me up.

Sometimes I cry when I think of all the flowers and teddy bear deliveries, phone calls, chats and extra doses of love I’ve received from them.

So, I’m most grateful for having  David, Drew, and Lindsey for children because I wouldn’t have made it this far without them.

 

~~~ Image by congerdesign from Pixabay ~~~