In the last few weeks I've experienced the loss of an old friend and ex-stepmother. It's the most difficult time for those who were close to these passed souls. A time of tears, a time of sadness, a time of change. The awkward realization of a present void. Stopping yourself from picking up the phone and calling someone who will no longer answer at the other end. A half-empty bed, one less person at the dinner table and the deep searing pain of loss. Just getting through the day is the biggest challenge. The minutes drag only to remind you of your heartfelt grief, and time can't pass quickly enough. Quickly enough to get to a place of less pain, less sorrow and maybe a hint of something resembling happiness will come and quash the desperate pain that pierces your heart.
Five years ago I was feeling all this and more. Five years ago my husband died suddenly and I was left with a tidal wave of consuming emotions. I was forced to start a new life, but first I had to get through my grieving and sorrow. I didn't care about anything, not even myself. I just tried to get through the day and wanted time to pass more quickly so I could get to the other side of grief. Grief is similar to having the flu. The icky feeling never seems to go away and you can't wait to get over it so you can carry on with your life as usual. But "usual" after loss doesn't apply anymore. You are forced to start a new "usual", a new routine and a new life.
While I was trying to sort through all these profound emotions, I did have to take care of myself. I had to eat, sleep, bathe and dress myself. But each task required great effort on some days. One day I decided I needed to get out and maybe treat myself to some beautification. I went to see my hairdresser for a haircut and told her of my horrible news. She was floored and deeply sympathetic. And for once she was speechless. She was so kind to me and it was apparent that she wanted to do more for me, but like most people, she was helpless to my situation. As I was leaving to pay my bill I was talking to her at the reception desk. We were still discussing my news and another woman was at the counter and overhead our conversation. She interjected and told me to be good to myself. Good to myself? Yes. She, too, had lost her husband in recent years and fully understood my pain and grief. But she insisted that I treat myself to something that I normally wouldn't do for myself. She was probably 25 years my senior and had a kind face. She talked to me the way your favorite grandmother talked to you. It was endearing and coming from a stranger had meant more to me than hearing it from a close friend or relative. She was sincere and I felt the warmth in her voice. Her hand, decorated with a stunning wedding ring and signs of years of caring and cleaning, touched my hand as she offered her words of wisdom. At that moment I scheduled a massage for myself at the spa for the following week.
As I continued on my journey of grief and discovery, I also took care of myself. It was up to me to take care of myself. To go beyond the daily routines of being human and to indulge in a massage, a nice dinner at a new restaurant, a facial to exfoliate the pain from my face, to purchase a new outfit at a better department store and maybe to sleep in once in a while. A leisurely day of doing...nothing. Maybe a drive in the country or to visit an old friend. Just to take the time to pamper myself a little, a reminder that I deserve to feel good, even if only for a few minutes.
A stranger's kind words evoked a feeling of hope within me. Hope that one day I could truly enjoy and embrace the warmth of the sun on my face. Hope that one day sadness has been pushed out by contentment, and maybe a glimmer of happiness. Perhaps these words from this stranger meant more because she, too, had once been in my shoes. She understood the desperate pain that overcomes you when you're in the abyss of sorrow. She was a kind of kindred spirit and I will never forget her and her gesture of kindness.
To all my friends and family who are suffering now with grief and sorrow, please, be good to yourself.
Friday, February 15, 2013
Monday, February 11, 2013
Time To Heal, Time To Forgive
It's time to heal. Not a bruise or bump type of healing. Healing of the heart and mind. Time to mend some scars and let the past stay in the past. Last week my ex-stepmother died. No need to be sorry or sad for me. This was a woman who tortured my brother and me for 13 years. And got away with it, more or less.
My parents divorced when I was 5 years old, and my father remarried when I was 7 years old. At first she seemed nice and kind. But once the gold band was placed on her finger, that all changed. She humiliated us, spanked us, slapped us, washed out my mouth with soap for saying "Oh my God", continually insulted our mother, and was just plain mean to us. And without good reason. We were good kids, but we felt so alone. No one believed us, no one saw what she did, no one seemed to care. At least in the eyes of an innocent child. I was never disrespectful towards her nor sarcastic. But it made no difference how well behaved we were, she would still punish us. My father finally divorced her when I was 20 years old. By then the damage was done. But she was no longer my stepmother. Just a nightmare of my past.
She left a lot of scars. In some ways, she destroyed my childhood. The innocent years were no more. Sure, I can justify or find reason for her cruelty, but it doesn't take away the pain nor does it make it right. Whatever was hurting her and making her so angry against the world, was taken out on me, my brother, and even my stepbrother, her son. I'm sure she didn't think that what she was doing was wrong or harmful. But it was. In some small miniscule region of my heart I do feel for her, and I knew she was suffering from something painful, too. I don't know why she did what she did, but does it really matter? Two wrongs don't make a right, right? It's a domino effect. When someone hurts someone else, that pain can turn into anger and be inflicted upon someone else, and so on, and so on. And those people that have been hurt can affect others in other ways, too, besides abuse. It starts out as a small snowball and turns into an avalanche of pain and sadness.
She's dead now. I don't feel sad for her death. If she died lonely or miserable, it was her own doing. Help is always available. But I'm not a psychologist or counselor. I'm a victim of someone else's pain. And I have found it very difficult to forgive her. How do you forgive so much pain? Regardless if they knew what they were doing was wrong or not? Regardless of anything. How do you forgive? I don't want to be a victim anymore. I'm a survivor. Maybe now is the time to help others with similar stories and similar pain. Maybe now is the time to let sleeping dogs lie.
My parents divorced when I was 5 years old, and my father remarried when I was 7 years old. At first she seemed nice and kind. But once the gold band was placed on her finger, that all changed. She humiliated us, spanked us, slapped us, washed out my mouth with soap for saying "Oh my God", continually insulted our mother, and was just plain mean to us. And without good reason. We were good kids, but we felt so alone. No one believed us, no one saw what she did, no one seemed to care. At least in the eyes of an innocent child. I was never disrespectful towards her nor sarcastic. But it made no difference how well behaved we were, she would still punish us. My father finally divorced her when I was 20 years old. By then the damage was done. But she was no longer my stepmother. Just a nightmare of my past.
She left a lot of scars. In some ways, she destroyed my childhood. The innocent years were no more. Sure, I can justify or find reason for her cruelty, but it doesn't take away the pain nor does it make it right. Whatever was hurting her and making her so angry against the world, was taken out on me, my brother, and even my stepbrother, her son. I'm sure she didn't think that what she was doing was wrong or harmful. But it was. In some small miniscule region of my heart I do feel for her, and I knew she was suffering from something painful, too. I don't know why she did what she did, but does it really matter? Two wrongs don't make a right, right? It's a domino effect. When someone hurts someone else, that pain can turn into anger and be inflicted upon someone else, and so on, and so on. And those people that have been hurt can affect others in other ways, too, besides abuse. It starts out as a small snowball and turns into an avalanche of pain and sadness.
She's dead now. I don't feel sad for her death. If she died lonely or miserable, it was her own doing. Help is always available. But I'm not a psychologist or counselor. I'm a victim of someone else's pain. And I have found it very difficult to forgive her. How do you forgive so much pain? Regardless if they knew what they were doing was wrong or not? Regardless of anything. How do you forgive? I don't want to be a victim anymore. I'm a survivor. Maybe now is the time to help others with similar stories and similar pain. Maybe now is the time to let sleeping dogs lie.
Monday, February 4, 2013
Alive in our Hearts
It's so difficult to say goodbye to a loved one who has passed away. Regardless of how old they were, we never want to lose our loved ones. Whether they were 96 or 46, it's always too soon. A few days ago, many friends and family had to muster up the strength to do such a thing when Marla was laid to rest. Now Lombard has a void. A deep void. A long time resident, a teacher, a community helper, a student of life, a mother, a wife, a daughter and a dear friend is gone.
I was one of hundreds who paid their last respects last week at Marla's wake. Quite frankly, her name doesn't belong in that sentence. She was taken too young and too soon. As I stood in the receiving line, I became reacquainted with Marla. There were numerous collages of pictures of her throughout the funeral home. Each collage represented a different era in her shortened life. And in every picture was her infectious smile and radiating warmth. I even saw a childlike quality in those pictures. A quality that perhaps explains why so many people were drawn to her. I overheard several conversations in that funeral home, too. Many friends, old and new, were recalling good times with Marla; driving to work together when her car broke down and laughing about it was one of many stories shared that night. Other people remembered her smile. A smile that never seemed to leave her face.
Another close friend talked about how Marla was everyone's cheerleader. Whether you were going through a difficult time in your life or just lost a pound on a diet, Marla would cheer you on, encourage you and celebrate your victories. She was the epitomy of a good friend. I hadn't seen her in many years, but she clearly hadn't changed. A good thing for everyone who knew her.
Even though Marla is gone, (again, her name doesn't belong there) her legacy will live on through her family, friends, co-workers, students and neighbors. She left a deep footprint in the hearts of many, and through them, her memory will be kept alive for generations to come.
I found myself inspired by Marla and how she lived. So much so, that I've decided to become involved in volunteer work again. To give back, to help others and become more involved in my community. I want to become a little bit like Marla.
I was one of hundreds who paid their last respects last week at Marla's wake. Quite frankly, her name doesn't belong in that sentence. She was taken too young and too soon. As I stood in the receiving line, I became reacquainted with Marla. There were numerous collages of pictures of her throughout the funeral home. Each collage represented a different era in her shortened life. And in every picture was her infectious smile and radiating warmth. I even saw a childlike quality in those pictures. A quality that perhaps explains why so many people were drawn to her. I overheard several conversations in that funeral home, too. Many friends, old and new, were recalling good times with Marla; driving to work together when her car broke down and laughing about it was one of many stories shared that night. Other people remembered her smile. A smile that never seemed to leave her face.
Another close friend talked about how Marla was everyone's cheerleader. Whether you were going through a difficult time in your life or just lost a pound on a diet, Marla would cheer you on, encourage you and celebrate your victories. She was the epitomy of a good friend. I hadn't seen her in many years, but she clearly hadn't changed. A good thing for everyone who knew her.
Even though Marla is gone, (again, her name doesn't belong there) her legacy will live on through her family, friends, co-workers, students and neighbors. She left a deep footprint in the hearts of many, and through them, her memory will be kept alive for generations to come.
I found myself inspired by Marla and how she lived. So much so, that I've decided to become involved in volunteer work again. To give back, to help others and become more involved in my community. I want to become a little bit like Marla.
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