Mixed Emotions

I find myself ping-ponging from one emotion to the next in rapid succession. I guess it’s a part of grief, loss, living…but it’s confusing and the worst part is that I’ve DONE. THIS. BEFORE. Not with a parent, so I assume that’s the difference. My mother is living—and I’m supporting her in her grief as best I can (as are various family members and friends.)

When I lost my grandparents, I grieved. I was very close to some of them, and I had all 4 into my 40s, so I knew them well. We all lived within 15 miles of each other, our whole lives. I was with three of them doing end-of-life care.

One of my greatest blessings was to be able to give my grandmother her last bath, after she had passed, and put a clean nightie on her, make her presentable for my mother and uncle, who were on their way. It was a gift.

There is no mystery in death for those of us who have been there. Professionals know this well, but for the layman like myself it is becoming rarer and rarer to experience. I did train as a CNA 20 years ago, but never sat with a dying patient. All my deathwatches have been with my own people, relatives or friends.

Forgive the terms I use. I understand that “deathwatch” is a weird word, an old word, an old concept. I use many terms that some may find objectionable. The next is “meat suit.” I have no illusions about the body I live in. It is not me—and their bodies were not the persons I loved. The outer shell is very dear, of course. And I just talked about washing my grandmother’s body after her spirit had gone. We can love the body, as we love any physical thing, but it is not the person. When a human dies naturally, their body looks empty. They seem lighter, in many ways (not discounting the term “dead weight.”)

I know that my body is the temple of my Lord, and I should treat it as such. It is still only a building. It is defined by what lives within it. When that is gone, the building is only a reminder, much like a photo, but less durable.

For my father, and for some of my other loved ones who have gone, the spirit seemed to separate some time before the body stopped living. The man I knew was not himself for the last several years. There were signs of him—he was not completely gone—but for the most part, for me, the difficulties he suffered in the last years overshadowed the years before. Now that he has gone, and I’m somewhat rested, I can mourn the man he was for most of my life, and grieve and rage at the things which made the last time so hard for us all.

I can also smile at memories which are returning—some triggered by the myriad photos we went through before the services. In 90 years, there are a LOT of photos. With 4 children, 10 grandchildren, 13 great-grandchildren, there are a LOT of photos. Some of them contained loved ones long gone—Dad’s dad has been gone 19 years.

So memories are springing up, and emotions are running wild. One moment I’m happy, the next I’m so angry I grind my teeth—and I don’t know why. Tears are rare, strangely.

And I’m tired all the time. Not physically, necessarily. I know emotion is tiring. I know. And I know all these things are normal—NORMAL! And that while everyone goes through it a little differently, I’m not the first, nor the last, and others have suffered the same loss as I.

In fact, most of my peers have already lost one or both parents, some long ago. Some of my peers have lost spouses and children. Those losses do not negate mine, although sometimes I feel I should just be grateful for Dad’s long life, for all the blessings I’ve had.

None of that helps.

That’s the thing about grief. We just have to go through it. In whatever fashion works for each person. So if you know someone who is grieving (and grief has no time limit) then give them grace, give them love, give them support and kindness and time to be alone, and just go on. It’s all we can do.

Thank you.