This morning my brother and sister-in-law flew in. Tonight we had dinner at our house, with Hub and I cooking breakfast for dinner. My father came over, one of my brothers who lives locally came over, and the my SIL and brother from out of town. It was kind of a last minute get-together, but that’s fine. I didn’t want to go out to dinner again (Hub and I took Dad out last night), so we volunteered to cook for everyone tonight.
Tomorrow, we go to the cemetery to have a very small and short ceremony to reveal Mom’s headstone.
Everyone left an hour ago and since then, I’ve been feeling…not ready for tomorrow. There’s absolutely nothing I have to do for the ceremony. We’ve already bought and prepared some food for afterward at my parents’ house, and there’s nothing left to do tonight. I don’t even know if the phrase “not ready” is appropriate.
I don’t wanna go tomorrow. I just don’t wanna.
I’ve known for weeks this was coming up. And as this last week has approached, I’ve felt more and more pain in my body. And more and more angry. And more and more upset. And amazingly enough, I’ve been sleeping even less. No matter how I try to fall asleep, or stay asleep, or get comfortable, or turn out the lights early, or try to linger in bed longer…I’m even more tired.
I’ve talked to T about some of this. She gave me some insights on William Worden’s “grief tasks” which are a slightly different theory from the five stages of grief (1. Denial and isolation; 2. Anger; 3. Bargaining; 4. Depression; 5. Acceptance). The four grief tasks are:
1. Accept the reality of the loss
2. Work through the pain of grief
3. Adjust to an environment in which the deceased is missing
4. Find an enduring connection with the deceased while embarking on a new life
These tasks are supposed to be wrapped up in each other, so that even while you are working one, you are likely working others at the same time.
Right now, all I know is that I don’t want to go tomorrow. I don’t want to be wrapped up in sadness. I want to talk about Mom and about the good parts of her life. I don’t want to stand there and focus on the grief of it all.
No one really wants to talk about her. I want to remember her life, not languish in her sickness and her death. There was so much more to her than her last two years. So much more to her than cancer. So much more to her than metastases. So much more to her than her death. She had a life! A long and amazing life. A life full of love and travel and learning and joy and … life.
Tomorrow will come and go. Another day marked off our calendar, another task completed (the installation of the headstone and the “reveal”)…and still she is gone.
I used to write poetry, just like I used to write fiction books. I tried to write a poem for tomorrow but came up empty. The words don’t come anymore. There’s just this emptiness and the fervent wish to express myself somehow. And then the inability to do so.