The Holidays Can be Especially Tough for Some of Us

The holidays can be a stressful time for most of us.  People who have lost special people from their lives can find it even harder right now.

I was watching an episode of Scorpion, and part of it dealt with one character's grief.  I ended up crying and thinking way too much about my late sister Kim and other people we miss all the time.

The holidays, whether it be Christmas, Hanukkah, New Year's Eve, or any other special occasion can just make us wish so, so much for our loved ones to be here with us.  The pain can be pretty unbearable, at times.

We can do things in their memory, such as blogging, writing in a journal, or just thinking about them for a while.  Also, try to be of comfort to others who are grieving, whether they are grieving for the same people that we are or not.

The only other things I know of to do are keep busy, help those in need, think of making things good for children, and just appreciate the present moment and the people we have here.

It's easy to get stressed out by so many little things during the holidays, but the other day I was thinking about how I wish our Aunt Dee Dee was here to annoy me in little ways like she used to (chomping gum loudly or singing along to Christmas music in the back of the car when we drove around looking at Christmas decorations).  I mean, how silly to get annoyed by such ridiculous things, when later you would just wish that the person was back with you again.

So, just try to cherish the people you love, and enjoy them and all their little faults (since we all have them - I know that I have many myself).  Try to relax and breathe, stay in the moment as much as you can, and find all the little good things to enjoy during this season.

Sometimes Grief is Never-Ending

This is an appropriate picture of our late sister Kim, because that is how I think of her - happy, bubbly, enjoying life.  I wish I could be like that.  I hope to be able to be that way someday again.  I used to be more like that, at times, before we had to deal with so much of this grieving.

It's also fitting that there is an angel in this photo (on Juli and Kevin's Christmas tree), because I think of Kim as being an angel now.  Many people who loved her thought of her as an angel even when she was here and alive.  She had so many friends and was so outgoing and fun and friendly.

I've probably said this before, but don't ever let anyone tell you that you are grieving wrong.  Everyone is different.  Some people may distract themselves or seem to move on quickly, or possibly even wish that you were doing the same.  Other people might want to think or talk about the person, or talk about feelings.  Whatever way you grieve is whatever is best for you at the time.

I worry so much about Kim's son Ethan.  Some of us adults are not coping well with this loss, more than two years after her passing, so how can a child understand and cope with it?  We talk about his mom when he wants to, and bring her up when memories occur, and we look at the beautiful book that my sister Juli made with photos and memories of Kim.  Most of the time, Ethan is trying to distract himself with video games and things, probably trying to not feel most of his pain.  I do the same things, too.

In my younger days, I experienced some losses that didn't feel very difficult, like the loss of grandparents I wasn't very close to, or other people I didn't have a strong connection to.  In recent years, though, there have been important and serious losses, like my sister very quickly passing away from cancer.  Other big losses have been my in-laws, and my husband's aunt, all of whom felt like real parents to me.  Plus, we all lived in the same house.  I feel that the grief over these recent, big losses will never really go away.  It seems to stay and stay, and continue to cause a lot of pain for my husband and for me (as Kim's loss also does for Mom and Ethan and Juli and others).

Grief isn't limited to just people, either.  My husband and I still feel grief over some of the most special cats we've had, too.  As anyone who has truly loved a pet knows, they are like little, furry people.  We love them and care for them and miss them a lot when they are gone.

I guess this is what getting older is like - dealing with loss after loss, if you are lucky enough to be someone who remains alive yourself.  It's a very hard thing.  Like I said in my previous post, I keep calling this compound grief.  It's as if each loss opens the previous wounds again, or as if the crack in your broken heart gets bigger each time.  Then you try to heal a bit, and experience another loss and it rips back open.  Each loss seems to remind us more and more of all of the others who are gone, and we aren't coping too well with it, at times.

We keep trying.  We keep setting goals, making plans, trying to live our lives, but as any grieving person knows, there are constant reminders that make you think of the people over and over.  Sometimes we have funny or happy thoughts or memories, but other times it's just painful.

It's not like I'm enjoying this continued blogging about grief, but I have these thoughts and they need to get out.  Writing these things makes me cry and it feels very hard, but maybe someone can relate to something that I say, and it might make them feel less alone, less odd.

Please be kind and gentle with yourself if you are experiencing grief.  Take care of yourself and give yourself credit for just getting through each day and doing the best you can.  It's such a difficult thing, especially for extremely sensitive and caring people.  Loving and caring about people brings us much happiness, but also pain.

I wish you peace and comfort and joy in the future.

Compound Grief

 

I know that I keep using too many of the same photos.  I just don't have the time or energy to search around for other ones right now.

 

These two people are the ones we lost most recently - my sister Kim and my husband's Aunt Dee Dee.  I never know whether I'm supposed to say my Aunt Dee Dee or just call her his aunt.  I tried Googling it once, and came up with the wrong results to answer my question.

 

One thing I've noticed in all of these recent years, with several more of the important people we love being gone is that each loss seems to make the previous ones hurt even more.  I've been calling it compound grief when talking with my husband about it.  I don't even know if that's a term that anyone uses, but it's just what I've been saying.

 

I guess how I'm feeling is that with each loss, there is one less person who loves and cares about us, and who cares about the same people that we miss.  It seems to keep dwindling down to a few of us who are really sad about all of those who are gone.

 

I don't even feel like I'm explaining this correctly.  Perhaps a lot of my pain and my husband's is because four of the losses we've experienced have been very important people, and three of those were people who lived in this house.  We all had our separate areas to live in, but could all visit and talk and care about each other, which was wonderful.

 

I know it's strange to many people, in this day and age, to stay at home with the older folks and live together.  The fact is, we never could afford to leave, but also we didn't want to.  We loved these people.  Dean's mom never wanted us to leave - ever - she told us that.  She wanted us all to stay together, and we all felt the same way.  Sure, we all could've used more room, but being together meant more to us.  So, even if we would've had the money to move ourselves, my husband and I always said that we wouldn't move unless we had enough money to move all of us to a larger place (or attached condos or something).

 

Getting back to the compound grief concept - each loss we experienced was terrible, but there were still people who we did things with and took care of, in this house.  When Dean's dad, Ray, passed away, we focused on doing things with and for his wife Milly (lots of gifts and cards, cooking and baking for her, going out to dinner, etc.).  We had something to do - care for her, and knew she was here caring about us and our pain, too.

 

When Milly passed away, we focused more attention on her sister Dee Dee and doing things for her.  When my sister Kim passed away, Dee Dee was here to comfort and console us.  We were still together, some of us.

 

Of course, the most important person in my life (my husband) is still here, and I am supremely grateful for that.  I still have my mom and my sister Juli and other loved ones, which I am also very grateful for. 

 

When my husband had his heart attack and heart surgery and I had some time at home (when I wasn't at the hospital), no one was here for me at home, other than the cats.  Mom and Juli and people on Dean's side of the family were supportive, but no one was here in this house with me, talking with me and comforting me, so it was hard.

 

I guess, in a way, that I will be glad to leave this house someday, when we can afford to go someplace else.  Too many memories are here.  People's things are all over, because we don't have the emotional or physical strength to clean them out.  We are in Dee Dee's old place, and almost all of her things are still here.  It all feels so strange, all of them being gone.  We just feel constant, daily emotional pain - not that I think it will lessen much when we move anyway.

 

I know this might be sounding too personal, too much like a journal entry and not a blog, but I'm still hoping that it will help others who are grieving, and make some difference to anyone who can relate to any of these posts.  I know I could just be writing all of this in a simple journal and keep it all to myself, but if it helps even one person, then it's worth putting it out here.  I know that sounds like such a cliché, but that's how I feel.

 

If you yourself are experiencing any type of grief, I wish you comfort and peace. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Grief just keeps kicking my ass.

Anyone who is grieving will understand what I mean.  Grief can really kick you in the ass some days.

We can stay busy and try to involve ourselves in good things and try to have happy days, but then something we hear or read or see will make us think of the loved one we've lost, and the pain is like a sock in the gut.

Of course, we think of them every day.  Sometimes we try not to, because the pain is too much, but then we feel guilty for not wanting to think about them.

People say that one day you will just remember the good times and not feel the pain so much, but I'm certainly not at that point yet.