Sorrow

When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight. ~Kahlil Gibran

Oppress'd with grief, oppress'd with care,
A burden more than I can bear,
I sit me down and sigh;
O, life! thou art a galling load,
Along a rough, a weary road,
To wretches such as I.
- Robert Burns

Grief is a flower as delicate and prompt to fade as happiness. Still, it does not wholly die. Like the magic rose, dried and unrecognizable, a warm air breathed on it will suffice to renew its bloom.
~Madame Gasparin

Grief knits two hearts in closer bonds than happiness ever can; and common sufferings are far stronger links than common joys.
~Alphonse de Lamartine

Most people say there are 5 stages of grief: Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, and Acceptance. I've even read of seven: Shock or Disbelief, Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Guilt, Depression, Acceptance & Hope. I know that the stages are different for everyone. I also know that the stages do not happen in a certain order and that some stages are repeated. The grieving process is so confusing and alienating.

As a person who has always been interested in Psychology, grief has always intrigued me. Some days it is a struggle to merely talk to people. Some well-meaning folks say that I have to move on, that things are going to be okay, but I don't want to be rushed through my grief. This is something that I have to deal with on my own, and only time will get me through this. I will make it through this a stronger person. I just know it.

Within the past few months, I've lost two very important people—my mother and my dear nephew Casey. I've monitored my own grief and wondered at the scale of my emotions. I'm normally a very even keeled person, so the array of feelings was very perplexing to me. Of all the emotions I've gone through, I find that anger is the most prevalent. I have always been a bit cynical, but now I feel bitterness coursing through my veins like black ink. I find myself unable to eat properly. I cannot sleep a full night without being reminded of the void in my family. I cannot listen to music, because it just becomes the soundtrack to my sadness.

Losing mom was difficult. I felt so helpless knowing that she was ravaged by cancer and that she didn't have much time left. I panicked. I wanted to hurry and make things right with her. I had so much I wanted to tell her, and I didn't really get the chance. But atleast I was able to say goodbye to her. I was able to hold her hand and tell her I love her. I felt a bit of relief, and then guilt at feeling relief. I was glad that her pain was finally over. I also thought that if there were a Heaven, she was finally reunited with my father.

Losing a mother was surreal. She was the person who carried me for 9 months and then nurtured me and helped me grow into the woman I am now. She was the one who sang old folk songs to me when I was a little girl and told me fantastic tales. She had a great imagination. She was the one who read my short stories and loved them just because I'd written them. She accepted me just as I was and loved me always.

Then suddenly she was gone and I felt as if I were alone. I felt scared. It was amazing to me that I didn't cease to be as soon as she died. I felt I'd lost my greatest supporter. She always believed in me and thought I hung the moon. She thought all her children and grandchildren did. What a sad world it is now without her cackling laughter, her strong Kentucky accent and wry sense of humor. After mom died, I could not listen to Bluegrass, eat southern cooking or watch Law & Order as I flipped through the channels. Everything reminded me of her. I felt like a zombie for a few months. I was looking forward to spring, because I knew the blooming flowers would give me hope. As Kirk Vonnegut says, "So it goes.."

But then we lost Casey.

Losing Casey was a huge blow. I had just begun to think I could start eating again and sleeping right after the dark days of January when mom passed on. My mom had been dead for 3 months. My sister called me, crying hysterically. She asked me if someone was with me. She told me she had some very bad news for me. My mind searched to try to find out what she was going to tell me before she actually did. When she said, "Casey is dead", my heart started pounding so fast that I could hear it. I felt it might explode. I fell to the ground in the hall. I was numb. I felt that everything worth living for was gone. I thought that nothing would ever be beautiful again.

I saw Casey's life flash before my mind's eye. I saw him as a baby on the day he was born, then as a cherubic child and then a baseball playing adolescent. Then I saw him as a spiky haired teen with a cynical smile and then a surfing, tanned young man. Then I saw him sleeping peacefully with a game controller in his hand—the way he was found on April 11th. God, if only I could get him out of my mind then I could sleep. Even now, that is what I see all day long. His death is particularly hard because he should have outlived me. He should have grown old with me. We were supposed to travel down this road together. From the time I was 7 and he was born, I thought that was how it would be. I was certain of it.

After mom and Casey died, I still felt them with me for a little while. I thought maybe their soul was lingering in the same way that the fragrance from orange blossom flowers hangs in the air in the late southern afternoon. Perhaps their fleeting soul was like the dust that rises up behind an old pick up truck on a dirt road long after the truck has disappeared.

After a while, I felt as if they were gone off to some place so far away that I could not feel them anymore. That is when the sadness really kicked in. I didn't want to imagine what my future would be like without Mom and Casey. I didn't want them to merely be a memory to me. I'm still quite frightened of that.

Now I sift through old photographs and remember the times I spent with mom and Casey. I try to make sense of eternity. Why did they even exist at all, if only to be taken away so abruptly? Are we ever able to accept the deaths of the ones we love? How do we move on from it? I am so afraid that I won't be able to. Above all, the death of Casey will haunt me until I'm an old withered lady, if I am lucky enough to reach that fantastic age.

The only thing that comforts me right now is reading. I read constantly. Philosophy, poetry, travel stories, history books. I've read about 20 books since mom passed. Books help me escape to another person's life. One day I'll look back on this time and learn to appreciate the fact that I had mom and Casey in my life. Death comes to us all. There is no escaping it. We must make the best of the time we have with our loved ones.

That is what this grieving process is allowing me to ponder. Because when someone dies, we always think back on the times we spent with them and the things we said to them. We must make sure that we make the most of the time we have. We must treat one another the best we can. Let the ones you love know it as often as possible. Our moments together are all we have, really. Make them count. That is what I've learned.