Grief is all about, in my opinion, unexpected feelings. Unexpected in when they occur, unexpected in what triggers them, unexpected in what part of you they grab and take hold of, and unexpected in the strength of the emotional impact.
Many of the articles and books I have read are very consistent in the randomness of grief and the lack of predictability of when "its done." It happens when it happens and it done when it is done.
Yesterday was really tough for some reason. For dinner, I seared the 2nd piece of tuna, prepared corn on the cob and had another glass of wine from the bottle I had opened on Sunday.
The feelings of loss, missing Mary, uncertainty in my future, and not knowing how or when I will be through this was weighing me down. As I have written before, I have no regrets about the years from 1990 until she died. Absolutely none. Well, except for never doing our Ireland trip--but that is minor compared to all the wonderful aspects of our relationship that created such joy for both of us.
Maybe because I spent time with the Farmers a week ago, I am feeling especially down about "back then." Our 1968 breakup actually defined my life for the next 15 months which led to decisions that set the path for my second score. And I made decisions that were, as is typical for a young adult, both great and awful. I have never regretted moving to California and setting upon a career in electronics. I do not regret the decisions that led to my two kids, they are great.
I am experiencing feelings of sadness over what Mary and I lost because of what happened in those few months at the beginning of 1968. When we got back together in the early 90s, we had talked through that experience several times and I thought it was resolved. I am surprised by the strength of how it is coming at me now.
Perhaps I am now, finally, grieving over the first time I lost her, I really don't know. But I do know I am having very strong recurring feelings about our college years leading up to when she got married in August of 1969. I don't know how the mind and memory work, but I do know these thoughts and feelings have been front and center for the past 30 hours or so. And they have presented themselves many times since she died.
The William Shakespeare (below) recommends writing to capture the feelings and relieve the heart of its burden. Thus, this blog entry. I hope it helps.
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
From William Shakespeare
Give sorrow words; the grief that does not speak
Whispers the o’er fraught heart and bids it break." ~ William Shakespeare
This quote was attached to a grief email encouraging talking or writing about the experiences of grief. I guess this blog is my expression of my feelings.
Whispers the o’er fraught heart and bids it break." ~ William Shakespeare
This quote was attached to a grief email encouraging talking or writing about the experiences of grief. I guess this blog is my expression of my feelings.
Sunday, July 25, 2010
Sunday Evening
I just finished a seared tuna, corn on the cob and Acme olive bread dinner. Mary would have made note of the lack of greens and the doubling up of starches with the corn and bread. Oh, well, it is what it is.
I biked yesterday for a good 1.5 hours. Today didn't quite work out with aobut a total of 35 minutes of biking just before breakfast and a bit tonight before sunset. Not what I had in mind at all.
Grief is interesting. At some point today, I found myself with tears as I moved the clean flatware from the dishwasher to the drawer. I have no idea why tears appeared, they just did. This grief thing is absolutely unpredictable.
I spent some time on the phone with Tim today as a follow up to our call on Friday. Good discussion, partly personal, partly business...
Next post will be the wrap up to the Minnesota trip. Things are good here on Sunday evening.
P
I biked yesterday for a good 1.5 hours. Today didn't quite work out with aobut a total of 35 minutes of biking just before breakfast and a bit tonight before sunset. Not what I had in mind at all.
Grief is interesting. At some point today, I found myself with tears as I moved the clean flatware from the dishwasher to the drawer. I have no idea why tears appeared, they just did. This grief thing is absolutely unpredictable.
I spent some time on the phone with Tim today as a follow up to our call on Friday. Good discussion, partly personal, partly business...
Next post will be the wrap up to the Minnesota trip. Things are good here on Sunday evening.
P
Minnesota Weekend #4 -- Sunday
Other than a really vicious hang over, Sunday started rather pleasantly. Steve delivered my iToys with a comment that he tried to deliver them to my room but I was so sound asleep (passed out) he kept them in his room until he saw the whites of my eyes. Make that the bloodshot areas of my eyes.
The morning was unstructured. After breakfast, we had a discussion of Tom O'C writing a book about the farm experiences. That was a discussion I could not contribute to at all, unfortunately. However, I did think of a question that I posed to the group at dinner and it is, "Cast yourselves back to the spring of junior year (1968) and in your best possible mood and memory, try to remember what you thought you would be doing without the Farm after graduation. Then compare what did happen."
After lunch, a group of us went for a walk and we somehow ended up on the woods trail instead of the meadow trail. We met no fewer than a bazillion small, flying residents of Minnesota during this part of the walk. We took a fork in the path and headed for the "Old College Road" which relieved us of the bugs but put us in full sunlight. Someone said at lunch that the walk would be buggy and sweaty. Damn right.
The Old Collegeville Road used to be the main entrance to the campus. When the interstate was put in, they moved the entry road. The new approach has the benefit of putting the well known belfry in full view as you drive towards the campus. The old road was at the perfect angle to see the narrowest part of the belfry so it often wasn't recognized until you were on the commons area. In comparison, it is clear how the belfry is now a tremendous visual element on the skyline above the tree line as you approach the campus from the new direction.
I messed up (again) and did not put on the exercise clothes I brought along for the walk. That means I DEETED and sweated into one of my "see me in public" outfits. I solved this problem on Monday by buying a St. Bens polo shirt to go with the cap. In the meantime, the Farmers had to suffer my day old clothes. No one grabbed their noses and collapsed on the floor, so it could not have been too bad.
The Old Collegville Road does cross the interstate but it has been reduced to a walking/bike path at that point. We met a Bennie walking from St Johns to St Bens and she explained that she stayed on the old road until she reached the Lake Wobegon Trail (there really is such a thing) and the trail took her to within a few blocks of the St. Benedict's campus. Total distance is 6 miles or a touch more. (I later confirmed with the counter clerk at the Guest House who was a Bennie. She said it was 6.5 miles and she only biked it, never walked it.)
Arriving at the Guest House, I found David in the cafe area messing with his new Nikon D5000. I brought my D200 and we had quite a session comparing functions, swapping lenses and componetry and helping David understand how the new digital SLR behaved compared to his former film based SLR. Basically, it was a couple of guys with a selection of modern electronics trying to figure things out without reading the manuals. Works for me!
After I had showered to get rid of the sweat and DEET, David and I headed to the McKeown center. At that point, Diana approached me for help with her electronic devices: a new iPad and a new iPhone 4. We worked through them, including setting up her Amazon account and downloading two books she wanted to get her started.
On Sunday, I was much more alert and aware than I was on Saturday--something to do with two martinis and wine chasers, I assume.
Dinner was great as always. Good discussions of all sorts. We had a guest for Sunday, Fr Hillary who was instrumental in making the Farm happen in 1968. In fact, he had hoped to be the faculty member in residence but he was named Dean in the summer of 1968 so Fr. Patrick became the resident faculty member. The quilt came together as part of the evening and I am not posting pictures until we have a chance to review all taken by the group. Its a really cool quilt!
Next posting, Duluth or otherwise know at Doo Loot.
The morning was unstructured. After breakfast, we had a discussion of Tom O'C writing a book about the farm experiences. That was a discussion I could not contribute to at all, unfortunately. However, I did think of a question that I posed to the group at dinner and it is, "Cast yourselves back to the spring of junior year (1968) and in your best possible mood and memory, try to remember what you thought you would be doing without the Farm after graduation. Then compare what did happen."
After lunch, a group of us went for a walk and we somehow ended up on the woods trail instead of the meadow trail. We met no fewer than a bazillion small, flying residents of Minnesota during this part of the walk. We took a fork in the path and headed for the "Old College Road" which relieved us of the bugs but put us in full sunlight. Someone said at lunch that the walk would be buggy and sweaty. Damn right.
The Old Collegeville Road used to be the main entrance to the campus. When the interstate was put in, they moved the entry road. The new approach has the benefit of putting the well known belfry in full view as you drive towards the campus. The old road was at the perfect angle to see the narrowest part of the belfry so it often wasn't recognized until you were on the commons area. In comparison, it is clear how the belfry is now a tremendous visual element on the skyline above the tree line as you approach the campus from the new direction.
I messed up (again) and did not put on the exercise clothes I brought along for the walk. That means I DEETED and sweated into one of my "see me in public" outfits. I solved this problem on Monday by buying a St. Bens polo shirt to go with the cap. In the meantime, the Farmers had to suffer my day old clothes. No one grabbed their noses and collapsed on the floor, so it could not have been too bad.
The Old Collegville Road does cross the interstate but it has been reduced to a walking/bike path at that point. We met a Bennie walking from St Johns to St Bens and she explained that she stayed on the old road until she reached the Lake Wobegon Trail (there really is such a thing) and the trail took her to within a few blocks of the St. Benedict's campus. Total distance is 6 miles or a touch more. (I later confirmed with the counter clerk at the Guest House who was a Bennie. She said it was 6.5 miles and she only biked it, never walked it.)
Arriving at the Guest House, I found David in the cafe area messing with his new Nikon D5000. I brought my D200 and we had quite a session comparing functions, swapping lenses and componetry and helping David understand how the new digital SLR behaved compared to his former film based SLR. Basically, it was a couple of guys with a selection of modern electronics trying to figure things out without reading the manuals. Works for me!
After I had showered to get rid of the sweat and DEET, David and I headed to the McKeown center. At that point, Diana approached me for help with her electronic devices: a new iPad and a new iPhone 4. We worked through them, including setting up her Amazon account and downloading two books she wanted to get her started.
On Sunday, I was much more alert and aware than I was on Saturday--something to do with two martinis and wine chasers, I assume.
Dinner was great as always. Good discussions of all sorts. We had a guest for Sunday, Fr Hillary who was instrumental in making the Farm happen in 1968. In fact, he had hoped to be the faculty member in residence but he was named Dean in the summer of 1968 so Fr. Patrick became the resident faculty member. The quilt came together as part of the evening and I am not posting pictures until we have a chance to review all taken by the group. Its a really cool quilt!
Next posting, Duluth or otherwise know at Doo Loot.
Saturday, July 24, 2010
Minnesota Weekend Recap #3 -- Saturday
The walk led us around Lake Sag and to the cemetery. Hank said he often went there as a student to study because it was quiet and without the boisterous traffic found almost everywhere else in a four year men's college. As the group continued on to the pottery workshop, I lingered behind with my camera to take a few pictures. And to feel the absence of Mary again. She loved Lake Sag. I can dimly recollect Mary writing to me when we were in college about the beauty of the lake. As I recall, Mary took several classes at St John's University because of her major in biology and her minor in chemistry before her senior year at the Farm. SJU offered classes she needed that the College of St. Benedict did not have or there were schedule conflicts.
Frankly, I always responded emotionally in those days when she wrote of the lake for the simple reason that she made it sound so beautiful and romantic. She would always express a wish that we could be there together. Then, the journey made it seem like it was a million miles away. Today, the distance is infinite but I could sense her presence.
I walked among the graves and let the feelings of her loss wash over me. I don't know how long I stayed alone but I was the only one there. It wasn't where Mary is buried, but it was a place she knew and spent time, I am sure. And it was a place I could let my tears flow.
I caught up to the group as they were leaving the pottery works. I wasn't gone all that long, the works were closed. We headed to the St John's bookstore and I looked for a hat. I had forgotten to bring one. Let see, I forgot walking shorts, Mary's polka dot blouses for the quilt, the Remembrance DVDs (I had not admitted that before) and a hat for use when shooting with my camera. I was well prepared for this trip, eh? Anyway, the only hats they had were plastered with St. John's this and St. John's that. I attended St. Thomas in the Twin Cities for pre-engineering and again a decade later to earn my MBA. St Johns and St Thomas suffer the benefit of a huge, long standing and virulent rivalry in almost all aspects of college life. No way was I going to put a St Johns logo on this head. I solved the hat problem two days later when I stopped at the St. Bens bookstore and bought a bright red cap with the St. Bens logo. I can wear it when driving Mary's bright red convertible!
We then headed to the Great Hall to visit with Father Patrick. He was in very good spirits and we had a wonderful time. He was very glad to hear that not only had I brought wine for the group, I had also purchased the particular gin and vermouth he loved for his martini--apparently, it was too expensive for him to acquire on his own and he had a rather pointed commentary on the price.
After lunch in the guest house, we all ended up with differing chores. Kathy and the quilt crew began serious quilt stuff in the McKeown Center. Joyce and a team headed for town for shopping for the meals. David and I worked on the video system which consisted of a large HD TV with no DVD player whatsoever. David's computer could play the Remembrance disks but we didn't have a cable to connect them. As for the forgotten polka dot blouses I was contributing to the quilt and the Remembrance DVDs, I had asked MaryR to ship them for me--hold at Kinko's-FedEx. Mick and I headed into town to pick up the shipment, buy a cable and visit a crafts shop in an attempt to finalize his quilt square.
Everyone assembled at the meditation room in the Guest house at 4PM because Father Patrick was saying a mass just for our group in remembrance of Mary. The chairs were set up in rows when Patrick entered the room and he immediately asked we arrange in a circle instead. Everyone pitched in and started moving chairs. As the chairs were settling in, I took a seat next to Tom Maus. As the last Farmer came in and sat down, I came to realize the chair next to me was empty and I was scratching my brain as to who was missing. Then, in that instant it hit me, the missing person was Mary. It was a few seconds later when Tom Maus asked me if I wanted to do a reading. I barely croaked out to him that I was already choking up and would not be able to do a reading. The symbolism of the empty chair was so strong, I thought I would totally lose it even before we started the ceremony.
At some point during the service, Becky moved next to me to provide a comforting touch (thank you, thank you, thank you for the support) but there was still an empty chair. The meaning and emotions my mind associated with the empty chair was very nearly overpowering and that was only one aspect of the entire celebration of the mass. At the part of the mass where we greet our co-celebrants, everyone got up and exchanged a bazillion hugs. I received so much warmth and feeling, for they all knew Mary and miss her very much too. I was so very, very glad Patrick offered the mass celebration for her.
Steve later admitted that he had made sure there was an extra chair for Mary. How very thoughtful and incredibly meaningful. Thank you, Steve.
We then assembled at the McKeown Center, a marvelous facility to host a group like ours. The kitchen was abuzz with the food team and the quilt team had their materials laid out on the tables as they worked their magic. At some point, we assembled to watch the two DVDs and I provided a running commentary until the last couple of pictures when I lost my voice and my not-so-silent crying overtook me.
As the evening progressed, I spent time talking to Father Patrick known in this group as Patrick or Patrick the Elder. I am Pat or Pat the Younger to simplify things. Anyway, Patrick and I talked at length about a myriad of things ranging from the year at the Farm to today. He is marvelously sharp, exudes warmth and its is very easy to see how he has always been one of Mary's favorite people.
I must admit I enjoyed a bit too much of Patrick's martinis and I washed those down with a reasonable portion of the very drinkable wines I had brought. It was my first 'bender' since--well, since a long, long time--perhaps that trip to Denver with my buddies in the spring of 1968 when I was grieving over the loss of Mary the first time. Later, when I felt it was time to head for my room, I pulled my car keys out of my pocket, held them out as if to offer them to someone, and asked if anyone would drive me back. As I recall, I vaguely remember a collective sigh of relief emanating from the group when Becky took them and said, "I'll drive you." Sandy agreed to ride along. Was I really blotto? Well, it turns out the last Farmers to head to the guest house had to collect my iPhone and iPad because I had forgotten them. To me, leaving my precious iToys was confirmation I was far gone.
Observing how this group functions is a real treat. Somehow, the group moves to accomplish its intended actions but I am not sure, even after this fifth visit with them, how it happens. It just does.
This last picture is of the belfry at the church for those who didn't click on the previous link.
Saturday and Chores
I'll get back to the Minnesota weekend later today. Right now I am getting ready for my bike ride. Because of my travels, I have not been on the bike for 13 days--8 days of travel and just not into it after work since returning late Tuesday evening.
Friday was good, a solid work day followed by a nice dinner (pasta and salad) and my late night massage by Ingrid. If anyone locally needs a top drawer, properly priced massage therapist, give Ingrid a call. http://www.massagerescue.com
I did see Kelli, my grief therapist on Thursday. It was a good session, we did a recap of Minnesota weekend and discussed my feelings and reactions to the events of the weekend. It was good to be able to express those feelings to a third party. And, it was good to confirm that my process in grief is well within normal behaviors. One of the aspects of grieving is that you don't know if you are 'over the edge' because everyone grieves differently, reacts differently and does so on a unique timeline. The sessions with Kelli helps me understand where I am in the process.
On to the trail, more later...
Friday was good, a solid work day followed by a nice dinner (pasta and salad) and my late night massage by Ingrid. If anyone locally needs a top drawer, properly priced massage therapist, give Ingrid a call. http://www.massagerescue.com
I did see Kelli, my grief therapist on Thursday. It was a good session, we did a recap of Minnesota weekend and discussed my feelings and reactions to the events of the weekend. It was good to be able to express those feelings to a third party. And, it was good to confirm that my process in grief is well within normal behaviors. One of the aspects of grieving is that you don't know if you are 'over the edge' because everyone grieves differently, reacts differently and does so on a unique timeline. The sessions with Kelli helps me understand where I am in the process.
On to the trail, more later...
Friday, July 23, 2010
From my daily grieving email
Missing, Wanting and Needing - Day #38
When your grief is new, all you can feel is the emptiness; the missing, the wanting, and the needing to see them one more time. There is truly a vacuum in your heart and life; a deeply empty space, and you’re sure nothing will ever fill the void.
And, for a long time, nothing does. In fact, I don’t think it’s a process of filling the space, but rather one where the space shrinks ever smaller. It doesn’t go away all together, but it will become less through time.
When your grief is new, all you can feel is the emptiness; the missing, the wanting, and the needing to see them one more time. There is truly a vacuum in your heart and life; a deeply empty space, and you’re sure nothing will ever fill the void.
And, for a long time, nothing does. In fact, I don’t think it’s a process of filling the space, but rather one where the space shrinks ever smaller. It doesn’t go away all together, but it will become less through time.
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