Oh God, here she goes again. I know that's what you're thinking. Tough. You know we have to talk about it. It's all around us. We all know someone who is grieving. It might even be you. Yes, time is the healer but what if the grief is so intense you don't think you've got time to heal? I can't say I'm still grieving but I will always miss my Mom.
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| Great Buddha, Lahaina Jodo Mission, Maui, February 2012, Lesley Beeton |
But, if I'm brutally honest about my grief, it's that I started grieving for Mom when we found out she was ill. I discovered the power of my mind, being able to separate myself from the horror of her situation, and still carry on with my own life. Going to work, being a wife, lover, friend. This detachment was my coping mechanism, my way of making sense of everything and ensuring that Mom and Dad had the very best treatment and support, whilst preparing for life without her.
Grief is a powerful emotion, even when you know it's coming, it punches you in the head, shakes you about and puts you down in another place. The straight lines of my ordered life were swept aside, a chaotic mess with no obvious way out.
The doctors say that they won't treat grief with drugs, as in a significant bereavement it isn't always possible to know what is grief and what is clinical depression. So they play a waiting game. And in most cases it turns out OK.
I don't know exactly when things started to get better, but it was a slow process and now six months since Mom died, I know I'm not grieving. This blog has helped, too.
It's a different story for Dad though. His grief seems more intense now than it did at the time. His health is suffering, too. I think he may have shrunk a little, or perhaps it's just that I'm standing a little taller. More grown up. Being more responsible. I don't want to, but someone has to.