The Tao of Té - Part 2

The Tao of Té – Part 2

Absolute numbness had, indeed, set in but it was not until I hugged my mother as she came out of the hallway that I began to cry. Her pain was a living, breathing entity in itself. It surrounded her and she looked decades older. (I’m sure she is overjoyed at me writing that but it accurately describes how acutely the loss hit her.)

I was exhausted from the flight and long drive so I went to their bedroom to sleep. Sasha was on the couch, Courtney in her room and mom was just going to try to catch a nap in my Dad’s room.

 

There are some people that would argue all day long that physical objects are simply those…physical objects. They do not have emotion. This is true and I do agree. However our mind attaches a physical emotion and a mental connection to objects and places. That is how the human mind operates. You, your emotions and your mind begin to associate times and feelings with things.

My dad’s room was one of these very powerful places in the house. He had been in the spare bedroom for a while due to him not sleeping well and his concern that his up and down movement throughout the night was keeping mom awake. He took his naps in there, his music equipment was stored in there and it felt as if he was in there.

I later found out he had passed away in there. I didn’t walk in the room the night I arrived. I just couldn’t. I just wanted to sleep and then tackle the morning.

I didn’t sleep even with sleeping pills.

I think the reality of the situation really sank in the next day.

My mother has always taken care of us. We come to visit and she feeds us, makes us breakfast and is a busy woman. For years she took care of Dad when he was ill and shouldered most of the burden around the home. It is just my mom’s way. She stays busy. Sasha and I definitely inherited that aspect of our psyche and personality from her. We constantly stay busy doing something and often are multitasking.  (It is Sunday morning and I’m writing this while playing Farmville. I don’t “do” downtime and relaxation. I just can’t.)

Walking into the living room and watching my mother ghost around the house finally opened a little bit of the grief valve. For weeks I had prepared myself, talked to myself, about what Dad meant to me and who is actually was in life.

I lost a father the previous day but my mother lost her best friend, lover, confidant and sole companion for 38+ years. My parents were of the generation where married people did not have “girls/boys nights out.” They did every single thing together. Her best friend was gone.

I’m sitting here, tears once again streaming down my face, merely thinking of these things. Of me never being able to see Kat and Kerri again, never talking to them again of them being gone forever and it pains me.

I hurt for my mother that day. I still had not really opened myself up to the grief welling inside. That came later because it has to come.

 

We sat at the table and discussed the memorial arrangements. We talked about family and friends. We looked at pictures and tried to come up with a plan.

Each time my mind tried to gently poke me, “Hey…you can cry now. Your daddy is dead and he is never coming back. This isn’t a joke. It isn’t a dream. Let it out.” I would clamp it firmly back down.

That day was hard but it was not the hardest by far. 24 hours had passed and I was still pretty numb. I was emotionally distanced from everything. I tried to do the “Shonté” and interject humor when things became intense and tried to get my family to focus on brevity or good memories for just a few moments, to lighten their burden. My humor is my main defense and offense. It has been for years but I use it quite a lot to help others and myself.

I think it comes quite a lot from Dad. He was a very empathic person and I am too. In a room filled with people, I can identify instantly which mood a person is in without talking to them. Yes…I do read body language and what they say but it is this feeling that I get. I can feel if they are irritated, angry, sad or upset. It is like a palpable pulse beating through the room.

 

As my best friend goes through her journey through the emotions surrounding her father’s passing, I want her to remember that it is okay to check out for a while. It is okay to find something to busy your hands and to just stop thinking. I saw my mom do that quite often and we all did it with Dad. It is a way to stop from breaking completely. You have to be strong for each other.

I would say that the stage after Numbness is Reality. Planning a memorial is REALITY. Coming to grips with the fact that you are never going to see your father again (we had Dad cremated) is REALITY. And it is a hard, bitter, jagged pill. Reality opens the door for true grief. The type of grief when your soul feels like it is crushing. Your heart hurts, head hurts and you cry so hard you cannot breathe.  I had that moment when it crashed down on me and all I could do was drop to my knees in the front yard. I became mad at myself for not calling more, not visiting more, not loving more and doing more for him and with him over the course of my life. Then I turned to pleading with God, the Creator, the Stars above…to do something. To give me back my daddy! I tried to bargain with any entity listening that I just needed time. 36 was too young to lose my dad and I still had things to say. We never got closure. I didn’t get to tell him the things I NEEDED to say. It wasn’t fair and I collapsed like a deck of cards.

The beginnings of true grief had set in.

 

Tao of Té - Part 1

The Tao of Té

 

It may seem rather presumptuous to base a philosophy upon oneself but this blog series is really just a walk through guide, so to speak, of the real stages of grief. The reality that self-help books will not just spell plain and simple about the grieving process and what REAL people do when they love someone. It is not a step by step guide. Your experience with grief is different than mine but by me sharing what me and my loved ones went through…it may help you create your own guide to help you when the darkness is too much and there is no light to guide the way.

 

On November 8^th, 2012 I lost the most important man in my life. That is not a slight to my husband but a dad holds a very different spot than any other man can ever fill. A father is a provider, a punisher, a friend, a confidant and the one person who loves you even when you are not being very loveable.

Father’s are who guide us in life and give us a foundation on the partner we were meant to be with. He gives us advice, largely ignored until we finally settle down, on how to raise our children, how to be a good spouse and how to be a good adult.

I’ll clarify and further say that a Father does not have to be one biologically related to us. It is any man that has stepped into your life and been there for you.

 

The journey you have begun is not an easy one and I will not tell you that I know what you are going through because each person’s grief, and method of coping with that grief, is different. There will be some crying moments as you read this and there will be some that stop you in your tracks and maybe even a few that cause a laugh or two. Grieving takes many forms and it is different across the globe. Even within a small selection of people, no two people grieve alike.

 

And so the journey begins…..

 

The Numb Stage/A.K.A Disbelief

 

My call came at 4:00 AM Pacific Time. I knew when I picked up my cell phone and saw missed calls and many messages what had happened. Instantly my brain went numb and I became very detached. I knew what those calls were about and when the phone rang again, I picked it up.

Courtney said, “Come home now.”

My response, “No. No. No. Don’t do this Courtney. It isn’t true. Don’t tell me this. No.”

Courtney sobbed and in the background I could hear my sister wailing in grief. “He’s gone.”

I instantly froze. Why would my sister be playing this joke on me? My dad was not dead. No! He couldn’t be dead because I had meant to call him the night before to discuss “Abraham Lincoln Vampire Hunter” with him and chat to compare notes on the movie versus the book.

He could NOT be dead. My dad does not die. He may get sick and things look rocky but he does NOT die. That happens to other people.

I listened to her and very calmly told her I’d fly in immediately. I sat down at the computer and booked my flight. I had moments of tears as I told Maesin and made calls to friends and my daughter Kennedy.

 

But it didn’t seem real. It was very detached. I felt clinical in my approach. I walked downstairs, after packing my suitcase, and prepared a cup of coffee. I sat there waiting until time to go to the airport. I didn’t think of anything other than getting to the airport, onto the plane and then off the plane.

The plane ride, in and of itself, was sheer misery. It was a waiting game which is a deadly game for your brain to play when your loved one has passed away. I could not break down into hysterical tears as I wanted to do but instead had to find other things to think of so that I would not become a squalling, bawling mess.

I had moments of anger that day while waiting to touchdown in Little Rock. Portland, Oregon to Little Rock, Arkansas is a very long series of plane rides and waiting. I was irritated that I had to find out about my father’s arrangements and visitation from Facebook. I imagined tons of scenarios in which the family would bicker and fall apart, which some families do when a loved one passes away.

I felt shoved aside at times. I would talk to my best friends periodically throughout the day and they would try their best to comfort me. I still felt numb. It just was not real to me.

My lifelong friend Kerri picked me up from the airport and just seeing her was a bright spot in my very dark day. I had moments, during the car ride home, that grief and madness seemed to blur into my brain and emotions but largely I remained stoic. That was a feeling that was not going to last long.

I look back and realize that I was in complete denial. The logical side of my brain said, “Dad isn’t in pain anymore and that is a good thing.”

The emotional side of my brain said, “I want my daddy back! I didn’t get to say goodbye. I will never see my daddy again.”

Even typing those words now, almost four months later, still brings tears coursing down my face.

That emotional side appears often some days. It is that thought that invades the mind and you try to grasp that concept. There are people from my past that I probably will never see again but it is not because of death. Those separations were painful, and felt heartbreaking at the time, but they do not compare, in the least, to the idea that one of the people you loved more than life itself, is gone forever.

Kerri and I talked non-stop during the drive to my parent’s house. I tried to avoid talking about Dad by focusing the conversation on other matters.

Let me stop and clarify something: grief sometimes has to have a break. I truly do believe that you can still be racked with pain and still talk about other things. I believe it is our mind taking a break lest it break.

So Kerri and I laughed over things from our past, current events and books. It was a way of focusing on something other than the dark shadow in my heart and mind.

 

Pulling up to Mom and Dad’s was horrific. Every step towards the door felt like it was mired in concrete. I did NOT want to walk into that living room because the last time I had been home…Dad was alive. I had some tiny spark of hope that I would walk in and he would be sitting there in the recliner. My sisters and mom were wrong and had played a mean joke on me just to get me to pay everyone a visit.

It was not a joke. Walking in and seeing that recliner empty was a slap of reality.

Every time I’ve ever been back to my parents, over the years, I could always count on Dad being in that chair or walking into the room to call of the pack of dogs. He’d come walking up, hug me tightly, and say, “What’s going on Red?” or he’d say, “Look what the cat dragged in.”

He was not there. He did not greet me. The house did not feel any different than normal except he wasn’t sitting in his chair. He wasn’t sitting at the dining room table.

My sister was asleep on the couch but my mom was still awake. It was 2:30 AM and I was exhausted from a very long day. She walked up to me, face haggard with grief and emotion, and hugged me. I began to cry. For the first time that entire day I truly began to feel grief and the reality of the situation hit me.

My dad was gone and nothing I did, thought or said was bringing him back.

Love, Valentine's Day and the Myths of Life Dispelled

Let me preface this blog with a disclaimer: I am not against Valentine's Day. I am not against Love. I am not against Happily Ever After. In fact, I am wholeheartedly in love with love of all forms.

Now that being said, I recently read a friend's blog. He adamantly warned readers that some would be offended, many would disagree and some would (to paraphrase) be aghast at his position on love and Valentine's Day. I thought I could read it with an open mind and take it for what it was and leave behind any preconceptions. After all...I've heard the rants both for and against Valentine's Day and love, my entire life.

I was wrong. I was offended and wanted to argue with him that Valentine's Day is on the calendar and on the minds of women for a reason. That there is such a thing as lasting and abiding love that is honored on that day because men, and I'm generalizing here, tend to sweep romantic gestures under the carpet unless reminded by the shopping and greeting card industry. Most men tend to hit 3 big dates: Anniversary, Birthday and Valentine's Day.

My argument for Valentine's Day stems from countless arguments with males whom griped and groaned about being "forced to be romantic by a commercial holiday. I can be romantic and loving any day of the year." My answer:

Bull-freaking-crap.

Many men will fall back on that standard answer but fail to realize that on a day-to-day basis: they really let romance fall through the cracks.

Here is a great example and one I've confirmed with many female friends. Wife/Girlfriend comes in from a hard day of whatever she does. She is tired and exhausted but does not have the energy to cook dinner. What is the solution for the household? MAKE IT YOURSELF NIGHT!!!

Wrong Answer.

While there are some mighty fine men out there that do some wonderful cooking (I constantly drool over my brother-in-law's creations, my friend Rex's BBQ skills etc) most guys leave it to the woman to cook. The right answer to that problem, mentioned above, is for someone to volunteer to cook dinner. If you ladies are like me, I do not care what is cooked as long as I don't have to cook it. I'll eat Hamburger Helper. I'll make do with scrambled eggs. I just want to sit down and relax.

Let's move on to the flowers argument. I've heard from men and woman that they do not like giving/receiving flowers. Why? Flowers die. If we go with that argument then do not ever get a pet. They die too. And they poop. A lot. Everywhere.

So suck it up and buy some flowers. You may hate the idea of "wasting your money" but I promise that the other person truly does enjoy it. We train ourselves to not like the idea because it is frivolous and money is always tight. But there is something intrinsically beautiful about a vase decorating the table filled with fresh, bright blooms. No amount of plastic shrubbery bought from Big Lots or Family Dollar can compete. (I have to issue a summary apology to my beloved Grandma who has decorated her home with plastic flowers. They work for her because they are memories but I'm pretty sure she still loves the real ones better.)

Now back to my reading of the thought inspiring blog. I've been on both sides. I was that awkward, unattractive girl in high school that was overweight and largely (ha a pun!) ignored by the opposite sex. I did not receive Valentine's freely. I did not receive flowers unless they were sent by my Mom and Dad, which I truly loved because they made me feel INCLUDED. I was not romanced. So I loathed February 14th each year because it was a reminder of what I did NOT have.

As the years went by, along with a few marriages and relationships, I really hated Valentine's Day as a single person. I loved it because I could shower my affection on Kennedy and Maesin, but I did not have someone showering me with affection, roses and romantic gestures of a night out on the town.

I really moaned, groaned, bitched and griped about how "commercial" it all was.

It is commercial. No one is disputing that. But I forgot the essence of what makes Valentin's Day so remarkable. It is LOVE!

Yes...LOVE can be found each and every day. It does not have to be romantic love. It does not have to be sexual love. It can be the love of family, friends and even of strangers. It is the quiet little doodling of hearts and cupids.

I wish I could really share this emotion with others and truly hope that my children absorb this and take it with them throughout life. One daughter is a boy-magnet and the other is not. It does not make one better, or more popular, than the other. It does make them different and on Valentine's Day that will hurt one of them. She will see her friends get Valentine's from their boyfriends and girlfriends and she will quietly wonder why she is different and what makes them so special. She will question her looks, her personality and even her social position in life.

It is not fair. But it will happen.

So love is grand and great but it is heartbreaking and it can bring the strongest to his/her knees in anguish. It can make you curse and can make you cry. It brings peace and it brings comfort. It is the ultimate dual edged sword. Loving someone makes you vulnerable and nothing brings home that vulnerability like Cupid and his holiday.

If you are in a relationship...make the day special.

If you are not in a relationship...make the day special.

Real love all starts on the inside. It is grown from that intimate place within your own soul and then spread to others. Instead of hating the holiday, do something to bring a smile to someone else. Give them a reason to find hope and a spark rather than an empty mailbox or arms empty of flowers and treats.

Happy Love to you all!

Namaste