Tuesday, June 14, 2005

6:45 a.m.

 

One of the most disconcerting aspects of being a surviving long-term caregiver, is having to become reacquainted with yourself. It’s almost as if you have become so different that you can walk up to a mirror and ask: “Well, how am I today?” If the reflection could talk back, the answers would be quite revealing. Perhaps writing is my personal mirror.

 

I am realizing how easily an emotional nerve can be touched thorough words. Every aspect of my life has changed as a result being consumed by the illness and death of Linda. She took a large chunk of my life with her when she died. It is a matter of knowing how to reclaim what was taken. My personal world has been turned completely upside down.

 

When losing a loved one, the changes are more severe for some than others. It has everything to do with the depth of the relationship between the person who has died, and the one providing the care. For me, it was as if each time I touched Linda, during her remaining weeks of life, she was taking a small part of me with her. Small fragments of the emotional attachment we had, was reserved in a special place in my mind to be wept for later. Each time I kissed Linda’s lips, cheeks, forehead or hand was different. It’s as if they weren’t simple kisses, but each individual one took a small part of Linda, and became entrenched deeply within in my mind. I couldn’t provide enough kisses as I watched her deteriorate daily. So many times I wanted to wrap myself around her and let her pain be mine. I would have done anything to take away the suffering she was experiencing.

 

What so many people do not understand is how so many emotions are put on hold, when taking care of someone who is ill. The caregiver doesn’t even know this is happening. Even though tears are shed, they are not the ones which express how much mental pain is being experienced by the caregiver. It may take weeks, or months, to experience the tears that have been put on hold. My tears come in different degrees. Some can stop within seconds, while others have taken up to 30 minutes to call a cease fire. Being bombarded with an artillery of tears can be a personal tsunami. If wrinkles could be formed by tears alone, I would have the appearance of a 90-year-old man.

 

What if a mirror could reflect how much a person has aged due to grief? What if there was a reflection given back, and the person grieving could truly see the impact death has had? An alarming picture would be revealed. It wouldn’t be pleasant.

 

When grieving, sadness and anguish become unwanted companions. So many times I have tried to erect a No Trespassing sign for the different emotions associated with my grief. I’ve tried to erect 100-foot walls to stop the flood of tears, but the mental barriers erected simply don’t hold up to the realities of life. A person grieving cannot will for something to take place. God is present, but He allows a humbling process to take place. Perhaps he doesn’t want 100-foot walls erected or mental barriers put in place.

 

Never in my wildest dreams would I have ever imagined what impact Linda’s death would have upon me. Never would I have thought that in week number eleven, I would be talking about reclaiming who I am. The degree’s of understanding all of this is amazing. There is a dimension beyond the norm that a person comes to see. A shallow thinker never reaches this dimension, but a deep analytical perspective is understood by someone who wants to deeply reach inside of the dark side of the human experience because of how death is such a mystery.

 

My personal emotional battle continues. A figurative Red Sea faces me today, and it’s a matter of how far it will part in order for me to cross to the other side. So far I am taking two steps forward and one step back. Hopefully there will be fewer setbacks in the days ahead.