Forgiveness

It's taken me a couple of weeks to collect my thoughts and feelings as I journeyed through the stages of grief.  Originally I began because I felt as if I needed to truly feel that anger stage.  I am a very mild person in that it is difficult for me to get very angry and to hold on to that anger.  I think the same holds true in this case as well.  As I wrote in the "Anger" post, it was a brunch date with a girlfriend that triggered it.  In the following days after, I shared my anger with a few friends... sharing both the feeling and the reasoning behind it.  It wasn't long after that I felt better and I didn't feel so angry anymore.  I felt them, shared them, and was able to let them go.  I used this forum to see if there were any other pieces of anger hiding that I could uncover as I explored and reflected on my thoughts and feelings through the different stages.  What I realized was that it was a bit of each of the stages that held me up.  Shock, denial, guilt, and sadness all played a role in my bottling up my anger.  More so than any other I would have to say was guilt.  It is hard to admit honest truths to not only to others, but to yourself as well.  It is hard to genuinely feel your feeling of anger towards someone who essentially took their own life because of their actions and feelings that they felt about themselves inside.  However, I have let that sickness control my actions for far too long and because I was continuing to let it control me almost two years later, I was also letting it create a new anger and resentment towards my husband.  I don't want that nor does he deserve that.

I do feel that the reasons why I was angry were valid reasons.  I think the reason why that brunch date triggered that anger was because I felt as if I was being forced to see him in only one way.  My real thoughts were just swimming inside of my head.  Stewing.  Stagnant.  Never really shared.  I think it was important for me to share that anger with the friends that I did and even here, to random strangers.  It's when words are spoken or shared that they become alive.  These are my words, I need to choose them carefully and stand by them.  I acknowledged my anger.  And now I can forgive.  I couldn't forgive before because I didn't know what exactly it was that I was forgiving. 

Back in November, I wrote the post "Black and White."  This is actually one of my favorite posts because to me, the insight was significant.  I am, he was, our marriage was a combination of black and white.  Good and bad.  The good wasn't just good.  It was amazingly good.  The bad wasn't just bad.  It was extremely hurtful and devastating at times.  I feel more comfortable accepting that and expressing that.  I feel like I found some balance. 

I know that my husband tried his best as did I.  I know that I was loved as was our son.  His illness is not an excuse for behaviors, actions, and choices made.  I hold him accountable.  And now that I can, I can let go and forgive. 

Acceptance

It is hard to accept the loss of someone that you love.  Not only is it hard to accept the loss of their life, it is also hard to accept the loss of everything that you build around that person.  It is hard to accept that the future you planned is no longer something that you can ever step into.  Never.

It is hard to accept that not only did you lose someone that you loved, but that you lost that person to suicide.  It is hard to accept that your life took a turn that you never would have imagined in your wildest dreams or worst of nightmares.

Time is both a great friend and healer.  There are times when I look back at what happened and find it is so hard to believe that it actually occurred, it still doesn't seem real that this is my life.  However, as time has passed I can now say to myself that he really is gone without a jolt of shock passing through my body.  I can even say now to myself that he is dead without the how constantly attached.  Sometimes I don't think the how is as important as I used to think it was.  He is just gone. 

What is also difficult to accept is that my husband was a very sick man.  I never saw him that way.  I saw the life and good in him.  But, when you read a book or the newspaper or watch a movie or the news and you hear or see what people with severe depression and even those people who decided to take their life are like through unbiased eyes, you realize how ill they really must be.  When I look at him as an individual it is hard to see and accept that.  When I compare him to others, yes he is different, but there are commonalities that are hard to accept.  My husband suffered for most of his life and it took its toll and eventually his life, that is how bad it was. 

A final hard reality was the toll that this sickness took on myself and our marriage.  In my last post, I wrote about some of the things that made me angry.  I am angry for ways that he treated me:  controlling, manipulating, even degrading at times.  It was and still is very confusing to me when he was genuine and when he was acting in a way that was more of a self medicating or self survival mode.  That really has tainted some of my memories.  I have had to and am still working on accepting that hindsight is 20/20 and in the moment, I was very happy in the majority of my memories and marriage.  I need to accept that is okay and not try to break apart and analyze so much because I will never be able to truly get the honest truth that I so desire.  I need to accept my life with him as it was and just learn from it. 


Life moves on and it didn't pause for even just a moment throughout all of this.  Reality has made acceptance occur whether I have wanted it to or not.  We all have our battles and misfortunes, this just happens to be mine.  But that is life and despite everything, life is good. 
 

Anger

Shortly after my husband's death, I spoke to some people who expressed their anger towards him for what he did.  Some friends and even his sister told me they were so mad they yelled at him.  That was not the case for me.  There were times when I looked at my son and thought to myself, "How could you?"  For a moment or two I would be mad at him because our beautiful, amazing son doesn't have a father.  Often in those first few months I would say "Oh, what did you do?" out loud to myself.  But the tone in that was absent of anger.  I never really felt anger to the extent where I would feel as if I had dealt with the anger stage as I feel I have with the other grieving stages. 

***
Last week while I was home visiting my family over my spring break, I was chatting with one of my cousins.  We were talking about my grandmother and death and that led to my husband's passing.  I shared some more details with her that I don't think that she was aware of and then she began to share some about her own life.  She was able to make some connections with me and complimented me on being able to do what I did in staying here in NYC essentially alone and raising my child, alone.  She shared with me how angry she would have been had her husband left her in such a way with so much to take care of (aside from now living and raising a child alone).  And there is so much to take care of after one passes.  They are the little unseen things such as funeral expenses, closing bank accounts, settling credit card balances, and so many other things that had to be done at the worst possible time, but had to because we didn't have a will and nothing was in writing. These are often the common things that the people left behind get angry at.  Not only all of that, but the emotional side as well.  The confusing, emotional turmoil that the survivors are left behind to deal with.

I never held that kind of anger towards him.  I am extremely sad that I am raising my son without him.  I am sad for all that my son is missing out on by the absence of his father.  However, I am not angry that I was left the task of having to raise him by myself.  I have had my share of bad days, but it is both a priviledge and an honor to call such an incredible little boy my son.  Being a single mom is not easy, but it is not a burden either. One burden that I do feel is having to tell my son the truth one day about his father's death.  That is not a day I look forward to.  The only thing that I can do, is to build a foundation now of love and stability so that one day, he will be able to handle that devastation truth.  However, I can't say that I am angry at my husband for that either.  He loved our son so much, it only shows how desperate he felt to not consider that.  Again, sadness.  Financially, I am still able to afford and live in the same apartment which has been important not only for the convenience factor, but more importantly, the stability factor which I think was crucial in that first year after.  He left me with no debt of his own.  I have been able to maintain a similar lifestyle for both myself and my son.  How can I find anger when I am left with the best of him in our son and am financially stable?

Again, sadness overrode anger in the emotional side as well.  You cannot even being to express the sadness felt when someone that you love, someone you have an intimate relationship with, someone you are married to takes their own life.  I feel as if I understand why he did it, but the question I am left with is what caused him to feel that way inside?  I never understood the magnitude of the emptiness that he felt until it was too late.  There are questions that I have now that I wish I had asked, however, he never truly answered the questions that I did ask.  I was and still am consumed with sadness surrounding his death.

A few weeks ago, I met up with a friend of his just to catch up and she had wanted to see my son, whom she hasn't seen in well over a year.  We met for brunch and as we were eating she kept commenting on expressions that my son makes that are so much like his father.  She was telling me about things that made her think of him, etc.  For some reason, this meeting with her triggered within me, real anger for the very first time.  But, perhaps not the type of anger expected.  My anger was not directed at him for that final act.  My anger was directed at what was done, or not done, before his death.

I am angry at him for never taking care of himself.  He never went to a doctor the entire time I was with him.  He was asked and encouraged by both me and his family to.  But he never did.  He wouldn't even try St. John's Wart, just to see if it would help.  He refused any kind of treatment.

I am angry that he placed the key to his happiness, his well-being, in my hands.  That is a power too great to hand over to anyone else.  It was a burden that I carried for years without ever knowing.  He was so desperate to find self love and self worth, he took and he took from me.  And as his wife who loved him and could see the beauty within him, I gave and I gave.  Happiness comes from within, so what I gave to him was never good enough.  I am angry at him for making me feel that I wasn't good enough. 

I am angry for the way that he treated me over the years.  I am angry at him for his need to control situations and me as well.  I am angry at him for manipulating me so that he could retain that sense of control.  I am angry that I always felt like I was walking on eggshells.

I am angry that I have been left with tainted memories.  I am angry that I have been left confused about what was real and genuine and what was created out of a self survival need.  

I am angry that he couldn't give me time.  Time to heal and time to think about us and what to do.

I am angry that he couldn't just let our worst case scenario be a divorce. 

The button, that this friend pushed, was that I am always remembering him and speaking of him in a positive way.  But the hard truth is, he did some awful things in our relationship.  I am angry that I am still being ruled by his illness and the need to feel like I need to protect him.  I am angry because of this, I am painting him in a such a way as if the bad never existed.  This is not out of denial, but that in the way that he died, I have let it take away my freedom of expression.  And I am angry about that.  
I am angry that even as I write all of this, I can read back on all of my thoughts and emotions and find that many of them can be rationalized away.  I can see the effect that the disease had on him.  I am angry that I don't know what was genuinely caused by his disease and what was just him.  I am angry that he let it get to the point where I can no longer see him and his sickness as two separate entities as I had in the beginning. 

I am angry that he was sick.  


 

An Update

Yesterday I received some very good news about my dog.  Her blood test results came back normal!  She doesn't have any kidney damage or disease.  That ham wreaked havoc on her little body.  But, she was able to come back home yesterday.  The problem now is that she is not eating.  I'm wondering if she is just scared to.  One time I shut the window on her head in the car... yah, she never popped her head out again.  One time I slammed the door on her tail and actually took the tip off... good God that was awful, but from then on, she always runs out the door.  (I really wasn't that bad of a dog mom!)  I just hope she starts eating soon so that other complications don't arise. 

I was at work when my father called me with the news.  My eyes immediately filled with tears and I had to take a moment to compose myself.  I was just so happy and relieved.  My spirits truly lifted, until tonight...

Unfortunately, my grandmother's diagnosis has not improved.  Actually, I was told just a few hours ago that she is now on a morphine drip which means that the end is coming very soon.  I know that my grandfather, my mother and her sisters are all there with her and will be until the very end.  I hope for my grandmother that she can feel the love surrounding her and that her passing is indeed a peaceful one.  For my family, I hope it comes sooner than later.  I'm sure they want to embrace every last moment, but waiting for the inevitable is grueling. 

This is all part of life though, isn't it?  :'(

A Double Punch to the Kidneys

It was my plan to focus in on those stages of grieving that I felt I needed to reflect on, however, I have other things that are on my mind tonight and ironically, they are fitting to follow my last post "Sadness."

My grandmother is dying.  It was confirmed for me tonight and the doctors are predicting that she will pass within the next two weeks.  My grandmother is not a healthy woman.  She has had her share of ailments over the years... diabetes, heart disease, dementia, and she can no longer see... but it is essentially her kidneys that are going to give out.  So until that time comes, she is going to be made as comfortable as possible and I was told that her passing will most likely occur in her sleep and it should be a peaceful passing.

I was very fortunate to have had last week off and that I was able to visit my family, including my grandmother during that time.  Just last week, the diagnosis was not yet determined to be as bad as it is now.  I figured though that it would be my last time seeing her, but there was still that possibility of hope that it wouldn't be.  She was in a rehabilitation center when I went to visit her.  I didn't stay for very long either time as she was tired one time and a bit aloof the other.  But I am glad I got to see her and talk to her a bit.


It is sad to know that your grandmother is dying even though it has come to the point where you wish for it to happen quickly so that she is no longer suffering in any way.  I was dealing with it well, until today.  Perhaps it was finding out that it will only be a matter of days to weeks or maybe it was the second dose of bad news that I got today.

My dog also has bad kidneys.  This I just found out today as well.  On Sunday, my dog got into some Easter ham and boy did it make her sick!  Since she now lives with my parents, my father took her to the vet on Tuesday.  They didn't do to much but to tell him to bring her back in if she is still ill in a couple of days.  So after eating and drinking little to nothing for the next day, my father brought her back in today.  They took blood work and her kidneys are not well.  They put her on an IV to clear out her system from all the junk that was in the ham and in the morning they will do another blood test.  The doctor said that her kidneys were not 100% to begin with, but will not know how bad it is for sure until tomorrow.  He gave my father hope that after clearing out her system, her numbers could come down.  If they do not, it is a very real possibility that she will need to be put down.

This is a complete shock!  She was completely herself the entire week that I was there and she wasn't showing any signs of slowing down and sickness before I arrived either.  I am really holding out hope for her and that her numbers (not sure exactly what that means and what numbers are considered "healthy") come down.  I will not let her live in pain and suffering, but if she is still capable of living pain free and can maintain a quality of life for as long as her kidneys will hold out, I can accept that.

She is an older dog.  She will be 11 in July, but I am just not ready to loose her.  I lost my husband in May of 2011, my other dog died in June of 2012... I don't want to say goodbye to her yet.  In many ways she represents to me the last link to my old life.  She isn't just a picture or a card.  She is a living reminder and purely authentic.

Yes, I know that I have my son and his role is a significant one.  However, when I look at the big picture, my son only took up a small portion of my time with my husband, only 20 months.  It was just the two of us and our dogs for 8 years before our son was ever even born.  We went through a lot with our dogs by our side.  This dog can remind me of those old times... when we lived in Rochester (our first apartment, our wedding day, the dog parks, the walks, the snow....), our move to Virginia (the house we purchased, swimming in the ocean, Hurricane Isabel, taking them on vacation to the Outer Banks), and finally our move to NYC (selling the house, getting used to a new way of living, a miscarriage).  This dog was the one that was with me the entire time before and after my husband passed away.  She greeted me and my son at the door when we came home from school when no one else was there to do it.  She kept me company at night after my son fell asleep and I was all alone.  Just like my son, I had to get up each morning for her to because she needed to be walked and I walked her each night as well.  She was with me for four months following my husband's death.  It was in the fall when my parents offered to take her for the winter so that I wouldn't have to take my son out in the cold to walk her.  She ended up staying with them mainly because my retired father really bonded with her and they kept each other company.  It was better for her to be there.  So I know that this comes at a terrible time for my parents as well who have come to love her even more than they already did. 

The waiting and uncertainty in both situations are triggering memories for me that I was feeling exactly two years ago with my husband.  He was in crisis mode by this time and you just didn't know what each day would bring.  It is uneasy, unsettling, and heart wrenching.  This is a difficult time of year for me to begin with, but all this is happening right now is making it all the tougher.

When and if the worst occurs, I know that there will be a great deal of pain.  I also know that time helps to heal those wounds and the pain.  Sometimes though, I don't want to scratch for a silver lining.  Sometimes it's okay to just say that things suck.  And it does.  But I will still say a prayer for my grandmother's peace.  I will also say one for my dog and that tomorrow will bring good news for her and my family. 

Sadness

Sadness is taking your 3 year old son to the cemetery and having to explain to him that this is a place where people come to remember people that you love who have died.  It's having to tell him that we will not see Daddy here, but that we are going to go to a special place where we can look at his name and leave flowers next to it.  It is standing in front of the tombstone and telling your son that its okay to talk to Daddy and tell him that you love him and miss him. 

Sadness is trying to explain to your young son when he asks where Daddy is that he is dead and that means we won't ever be able to see him again.  That it means instead we can look at pictures and watch home movies and talk about him.  It is telling him that Daddy was sick when he asks why.  It's telling him that he can't go to heaven to see him, not anytime soon as you silently pray that you will never to live to see that day.   It is hearing the sweet, innocent voice that asks these questions that are the most natural ones to be asking.  It's listening to that same voice each night saying "Good night Daddy... I love you all the way to heaven and back.  I miss you" before going to sleep. 

Sadness is watching your son grow and learn and change and not having someone there to share in all of those precious memories.  It is knowing that there will never be any new memories made.  It is looking at pictures that have been outdated so quickly by the speed at which young children grow.  

Sadness is coming home to an empty, quiet home.  When once you were greeted by two dogs and a husband.  My female dog is now the only one left of those three and she now lives with my parents.

Sadness is knowing that there were so many other options and alternatives, but to him, they no longer existed.

Sadness is thinking about those last moments.

Sadness is the final act.

Sadness is all that was lost.

Sadness is trying to understand what it must have felt like to feel that this was the only way.


More than anything else, sadness is what I feel.  I feel so sad for my son who will never truly know his father.  Mostly, I am sad for my husband.  Completely, utterly sad for what was inside of him and for what may have happened in his life that made him feel that way.  I am so sad for all that he is missing out on.   Sad beyond expression.

Guilt

How do you escape thoughts and feelings of guilt?  It's like trying to shut out a storm from entering your home.  You check to make sure that all of the windows and doors are shut.  You even lock them for the extra security.  But there could always be that one you forgot and the wind and rain sneak in.  Or if not, there's that draft, just lurking letting you know its just beyond the safety you created within your home.

I mentioned previously how my therapist spent the day after he died with me focusing not on him, but on me.  She even made me repeat numerous times that it wasn't my fault.   And to be perfectly honest, I think that she, my core support group, and even his family to an extent, all tried in their own way to prepare and support me in such a way to help take away the guilt before.

What creeps up on you is just not the words, decisions, and actions made in the more immediate events leading up to it, but its so easy to look back years and years and the thoughts of "what if..." and "If only..." can capture your mind and hold it hostage if you let it.  And I went there, for sure.  But I didn't get stuck.  I had a great support group that wouldn't let me and I wouldn't let myself either.  I knew how to bring myself out or who to call to help me to get out of that potential trap.

I also think that it was important for me to explore those thoughts and work through them.  I have to admit that reading The Four Agreements really did play a significant role in my being able to not only keep the guilty feelings away, but to dissolve many of them as well.  All of the agreements helped, but the two that were especially helpful were "Don't take things personally" and "Always do your best."  Don't take things personally reminded me that I don't have that much power over somebody, even if they tell you that you do.  It really wasn't about me and what was going on in our lives and our marriage.  It was all about him and how he felt on the inside.  Did our situation have an effect?  Yes it did and that is where the draft of guilt seeped in.  But looking back on our 13+ years together, I can honestly say that I did my best.  I certainly made mistakes and I certainly was not perfect.  But I tried.  I tried my very best and I never acted out of spite or disrespect.  I really did make decisions based on love and respect.  It's easy to go back now and question things, but in the moment, I truly did my very best and that is probably the most substantial component to my ability to remain mentally healthy by keeping the guilt out.

At the time, there were many other aspects in my husband's life that were going very well for him.  He had just gotten promoted with a better paying and a better scheduled job.  Our son... was just perfect.  He had started going out a bit more with some emerging friendships.  It wasn't as if every area of his life was failing at the time.  That wasn't the case.

What I have learned is that you cannot change someone, no matter how hard you try.  You cannot make somebody see something that they do not or can not see.  You cannot force someone to want to live.  That is something that should be innately ingrained into us.  For some reason, that wasn't the case with my husband.  I don't believe that he wanted to die.  He did have so much passion for exploring the world and for living.  Therefore, I should rephrase... "You cannot force someone to want to live with an unbearable amount of pain and suffering."  You can only hold their hand and hope they will do everything available and possible to help alleviate that pain.  Unfortunately, love is not a cure.

Ultimately, I know that it was my husband's decision.  Any mistakes that I, he, family, friends, doctors made did not deserve this result.  I can see now in hindsight that his mental state was deteriorating slowly over the past few years.  But I cannot get lost in the questioning of timing or the future for that matter.  I also cannot lost in the past either.   I have found peace with those feelings of guilt.

One of the hardest feelings of guilt to admit are those of relief.  You see someone that you love and care about in so much pain that you can't help but to feel some relief that they will no longer have to suffer.  What is so difficult is knowing full well that his body was perfectly healthy.  It was all the turmoil within his mind that caused him to lose weight and to age and to act in ways that made him unrecognizable.  So there were feelings of relief for him and for myself included.  That took me a long time to be able to accept and admit that those feelings can coexist with the fact that I would never, ever wish this ending to have occurred. 

What I also have now are feelings of guilt in moving on.  I am working on now is not feeling guilty when someone else makes me feel happy.  I am trying hard not to feel guilty when someone else seems so natural that the process itself seems too easy.  I am sure that there will be other traces of guilt that will find their way in too, but now that I know they exist, I will be ready for them too.

Guilt... this is a tough one.  But it is definitely a stage that I have embraced.