grief - stepping gingerly through the process

8/8/2019 Grief - Stepping Gingerly Through the Process

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talked everyday they thought Id know more than they about

her wishes. What would she want? She and I had talked about

this in our usual irrelevant way she saying, If Im on life

support, pull the plug. Id remark, Gladly to keep you bossing

me around any more! Never did I seriously think that daywould come or come so soon. It is a very painful decision, to

truly let go of a most beloved person in your life. But knowing

her as I did, and seeing her in the hospital bed as she was then,I voiced the only answer that was the right one; let her rest.

But when? She was an organ donor and in order to harvest the

organs, she must stay hooked up to the many tubes and

machines, her tongue bulging from her lips, her skin turningcold and gray. A memory I now keep as far away from myconscious when thinking of my bold, strong, andjoyful sister.

Her daughters wanted some time for other family members to

visit and say a last good-bye, but our 90 year old mother

wanted immediate release for her eldest child. Iwas being

asked to step into Ellens shoes, ones that were too big for me, Iknew.

I wanted to some kind of peace for all. Wed keep her on

support for forty-eight hours only whether the organ peoplecould be there or not.

Talking about a loved ones organs (I learned that included

skin tissue, eyes and bones and some for scientific research) as

a commodity was repulsive to me in that moment of grief. To

take her apart, to take away that which kept her moving,

laughing, hugging and living was a terrible choice to make.But it is what she wanted so two of her daughters and I forged onthrough the many forms about her life style and health history.

How could I speak openly about their mother and what they

didnt know? I weighed and balanced this somehow in my



shattered heart and muddled mind. There came a point in the

discussion about her leg bones and where it might end up that

I held firm, no you cant have that. My nieces looked at me, why?

It was a joke between my sister and I about her wee legs and

sturdy upper body and knowing shed go on to Heaven without her leg bones, I couldnt let that happen.

Decisions made while grieving dont always make sense later

or to some people, at all. But, still I had to do what my

emotions needed in that moment. I had to feel some kind of control over the uncontrollable situation of her sudden death.

The organ people were caring and kind and when the finality of

the donations came to an end, we hugged tightly. That was theend of dealing with the hospital. We left to make funeralarrangements.

The familys dependency upon me to coordinate and help with

all burial decisions continued. A role that kept my grieving

time in check for that week. In the days to follow my husbandwas the only one I showed my vulnerability and weakness too.

I cried, couldnt sleep and was on the phone 24/7 as it is said,helping each daughter, my mother,sisters and brothers and

numerous close friends through the process of, not only a

funeral, but also a wake befitting the queen she had been. Since

she and a few others of my family members were not of the

same faith two funeral rituals were planned. Some family

thinking that was wrong, others supportive. In the end we did

what was best for her, our beloved one.

One day I collapsed in the hallway sobbing, unable to get up.

My husband hovered over me, talking gently, needing to know

if he should call 911. He was scared, I was hysterical. I was

angry. I was in panic. At some point I got up to a warm cup of

tea (the Scottish answer to all things) awaiting me and



resumed the arrangements. The funeral director needed to

have the clothes shed be wearing. The obituary must be

submitted (we chose to write it ourselves), and so on and so

on. Usually when one throws a big affair it is planned months

ahead but with a funeral, it is days or a week before.

What stage of grieving is this, I wondered? Still shock? Denial?

No not that. I was faced with painful tasks. Angry. Yes, I was

angry. Anger pushed me forward and helped me to pull up theboots as she would have done.

The chapel was packed and everyone said how wonderful a

send off we gave her. I was even able to say something lovely,

read a poem and included a funny statement because peoplelaughed. Later many remarked how I lightened up the somber

event. Upon learning what I said I have no idea why or

remember saying it. Exhausted I fell into bed and feared thedays of grief to come.

One of the things I learned is how to give condolences. A

simple, Im sorry or please accept my sympathies, orlet me know

if theres anything I can do are good, but please, never, ever say

I know how you feel because my sister/mother/father/husband

etc died recently and it was. I know you might think that

you are being kind or bonding, but at that moment the griever

is so in pain quite frankly, they dont give a damn about your

grief. I didnt want to know, I didnt care. I was hurt and thatsall I could think of in my black dress and pearls hoping to begracious and make it through the tiring funeral and wake.

After it was all done I worried. Would I be able to function? Goback to work?When? My husband and sons birthdays were

coming. Daily I cried openly and loudly and then worried if

my husband would understand, he being such a gentle man but a worrywart. I couldnt talk to just anyone. Only certain family



members. But did I want to put my stuff on their already sadhearts?

Then I just didnt care. I didnt care about anyone but myself

and how I felt. I was angry withone sister that didnt help as Ithought she should. I was angry at the hospital for not alertingmy sister who passed about the real dangers of the procedure.

I was angry with myself for not going to see her the night before.

In a fog I went into the outer world. Shopping and being in

public was frightening. A panic attack could come over me at

any time. I tried going grocery shopping and some guy thought

I had cut him off in traffic. Maybe I did. I was so dazed my mindfelt like a dark hole. My body ached as though I had the flu. My

heart was splayed wide open - bleeding, I thought. My breath

jagged. My eyes swollen. He came after me across the parking

lot, saying I cut him off. Well, I cut his balls off with my ranting,

following him a store, screaming at his back. At that moment I

knew I must go home. My anger was out of control. Theyd beno dinner that night.

My anger came before the denial. Although one of her

daughters stayed living in her house, I didnt visit as I had

every week. If I stayed away if wasnt so real. I didnt go back

our spiritual group. I didnt walk the path we took to enjoy our

nature time. I didnt want anything that was shared betweenshe and I in my life. In this way I could accept she was gone but not know it, feel it and embrace the loss.

I had or to now, have had, very little guilt. I refuse it. Yes it istrue that I should have done more and not let her always take

the lead or carry the familys burdens, I could have visited her

in the hospital before she passed. Thats yesterday I decided.My grief was punishment enough. Y ou and she were two peas in

a pod andloved each other deeply family and friends said. This



Ill keep in my heart. The pain and sorrow is deep, so deep that

theres no need to talk about it or her except to a very few whowant to listen.

Pain and sorrow changes your personality, your outlook on lifeand others and can teach you how to me more compassionate.Most people ask in good faith how you doing?Are you over it

yet? I smile and say, the best I can. Crying openly is done in

only safe places, like on my walks. Yes, I resumed our paths.

With a her daughters and my husband. When I hear people say

theyre taking it hard when speaking about another who has

lost a loved one, I ask, what other way is there to take it? When

I come across (and it seems more often than naught at my age)those in grief I give them the simple, Im sorry for your loss and

leave space for them to talk if they wish to. I dont try to fix or

cheer them up. I found that quietness is compassionate. It ishealing.

Its been six months and eighteen days. Many events have

happened in that time. My mother had to go into senior living

soon after my sisters death. But also good news: My son

became engaged and the couple is expecting a baby in April.The month my sister died. Somehow that brought me to

release and resolution. I release the need to be angry, to think

only sorrowfully of her. To hide from our shared joys. I laugh a

bit more. I go out in the wee hours of the morning and look up

to the sky to say my hellos and share my thoughts and news

with her. I sense the next step is coming for me to take:returning to the willingness to love.

Blessed be.

www.juneahern.com

grief - stepping gingerly through the process

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