Wednesday, April 20, 2005

7:30 a.m.

 

I’ve been taking a badly needed break by writing poetry. It is less controversial, when writing words many can identify with, if experiencing grief in their lives.

 

In my mind, I continue to reject writing about this experience. As the days go by, I am realizing the personal nature of my battles more and more. Little do people realize the type of hell this is when getting to the root cause of how a person is affected by the loss of someone. Countless people are fighting this battle everyday, and yet so few are willing to be completely open to others.

 

Sunday, I worked on the flower garden for about 9 hours. The mistake I made was not to think of Linda. This can seem odd to others, but by being distracted, I crashed mentally when I went into the bathroom to wash my hands. Out of nowhere, memories of the expression Linda had on her face, when she would be in the room, came back. So many times I had to leave the bathroom door partially open in order to make sure Linda didn’t trip and fall. I will never forget the look she had day in and day out. These memories cause me to cry over and over.

 

The personal hell being fought, are my memories of the day after day pain Linda went through. For people to say not to dwell on this is a tall order. I have to face what is bothering me, and this is the number one battle being fought at this time.

 

I have a grief counseling session tomorrow morning at 9:00 . It is badly needed because I want to know just how deep rooted this is. Only when being around so much suffering, is it realized the impact it has later. You don’t spiritualize something like this away. Yes, I pray to God concerning this, but by never seeing someone suffer, as Linda did, I simply didn’t realize how much I was putting my emotions on hold. Of all the people I had to share a personal hell with, it regrettably had to be the very person I loved more than anyone else.

 

A nerve is touched everyday when I think of how Linda didn’t deserve what happened, and how I was so occupied with taking care of her for so long. I knew nothing else. It is the first memory I have when waking up, and it is what is pictured in my mind throughout the day at any given moment. I am still deeply bothered by the day when Linda made the sound of a wounded animal. The sound stays with me. The constant expression on her face also touches a nerve. I have an increasing number of people tell me they can’t imagine what it would be like to be around this everyday, and yet comments are also made to not dwell on this. How can I heal, however, if I don’t face this nightmare head on so that I can know what is really bothering me.

 

Only those who have been through this know what it is like. I know there are others, and hopefully I will be able to come in contact with someone who has. Susan, at Hospice, is the one person I can talk with, and hopefully she will help me to understand what is happening. I’ll be glad when tomorrow gets here.