*Trigger Warning:
Death, Anxiety, Ruminating Thoughts
A week prior to my 35th birthday, I lost my 8th family member. In a way, this death was the least shocking. It was my 90 year-old grandfather whose quality of life had been deteriorating, along with his mental clarity, which, for an accomplished electrical engineer was really devastating to witness. I was not happy that he passed, but had a feeling of peacefulness knowing that he was restored to the fullness of himself and surrounded once more by Love.
I wish I could say that all of the deaths I have experienced were similar in nature, but of those eight family members and an additional two friends, more than half of them occurred before the age of 75 (three didn’t even make it through their 50’s), and half died relatively suddenly after accidents or acute medical conditions. Some of them I was able to accept more or less. “He/she lived a full life…” “His quality of life can now be restored…” “He’s no longer in pain…” All of those things we tell ourselves to try to temper our loss. Others completely rocked my world, shook my foundation, had me questioning God, and left me waiting for the other shoe to drop.
See, once I had gotten multiple calls about loved ones dying or falling seriously ill, every unexpected phone call from a family member felt like potentially devastating news. I would feel my chest tightening as I answered the phone, and then gradually feel my shoulders drop just slightly as I discovered that the call was benign, never quite letting go of the fear. It felt like there was a dark cloud hanging over me.
I went to therapy. I did some serious self-work. I even started working in hospice, confronting death and dying head on. And I made some real progress. I healed from a lot of that pain. I can (usually) hold back from tears when memories of certain loved ones are triggered now. I can be really present with hospice clients and their family members as they wade through anticipatory grief. I was about to say that I can watch movies centering around loss without my own losses coming to the forefront, but then I thought of Coco. And Mary Poppins Returns. And Frozen II. Must be something about Disney, but probably more so the music.
And yet despite all of the healing that I’ve done, that anxiety still grips me when I get those unexpected calls from family members. Because accompanying my sadness, my anger, my hopelessness related to my losses, there is also a strong undercurrent of fear. Is no one safe from death? Of course the answer is “No.” What’s that saying? “Death is the great equalizer?” No one is immune from death. No one is immortal. It doesn’t matter how rich or connected you are, how “good” or “bad” of a person, how old or how young. Death comes to us all.
We all know this on some level, but we also tell ourselves stories to keep that anxiety at bay. “She’s young, she’ll bounce back from this.” “She has so much more beauty to contribute to this world. It couldn’t possibly be her time to go.” “It’s just the natural order for a parent to pass before the child.” Then when the loss happens and those stories are shattered, there’s this intense disorientation. “Wait a minute.. this was not supposed to happen! This can’t be real!” We are utterly and completely at the mercy of Death. And that is terrifying.
So how did I cope? By trying to have some semblance of control in my life. By constantly imagining the absolute worst-case scenarios so that if they came true, at least it would not be a complete shock to me. I can’t tell you the number of times I have interrupted my dreams after “witnessing” the potential death of my children by various means over and over. If my husband comes home later from work than usual, my first thought is that he was in a car accident. I start to panic at the thought of raising the kids on my own. “How will I manage our schedules? How will I manage the finances? I’ll need a new job to provide health insurance for the family…” Then I hear his car pull in the driveway and think “Whew.. okay. Not today.” But it doesn’t ease my fears about tomorrow any.
This is the part of grief that I did not anticipate, and it’s a part that doesn’t seem to be talked about all that often. It can even be tricky to recognize that it’s related to grief! My losses have completely changed the way my brain is wired; I did not experience anxiety or dread like this prior to 2006. It’s not pleasant. Zero stars. I do NOT recommend.
And yet.. The beauty in all of this is that while I can acknowledge the intensity of this journey I’ve been on, I can also extend myself grace for the way I’ve coped, and make a decision to move forward in a more intentional way. To not allow the past to define how I respond in the present. To take risks and follow my passions for whatever time I have remaining. To continue to bring light to the shadow, illuminating that which holds me back from living a life of joy, pleasure, and purpose. I know without a doubt that that is what my loved ones in Spirit want for me.
Grief is a journey, one that is likely never truly over. But those days of giving my life over to Fear are done. I am reclaiming my Sovereignty. I am reclaiming my Joy. Thank you, Fear, for keeping me safe all of these years. Thank you, Grief, for helping me learn the depth of Love. You are hereby demoted. It’s not Me, it’s You. Pack up your desks and head to the basement to be on standby for if/when your services are needed for my Highest and Best Good. If it makes you feel any better, go ahead and keep that shiny red Swingline stapler.
Peace!
Recent Comments