Loss hurts, and bereavement can be a full time job. Here are the real things at play when nearing losing someone.
What we really grieve
The memories of our life before they passed away.
The inability to create new memories.
The conversations that can no longer happen.
Unfulfilled plans for the future.
The sense of safety and comfort.
The familiar day-to-day activities.
Someone to confide in.
The emotional closeness.
All the milestones.
A unique and irreplaceable bond.
The advice and wisdom they provided.
The sight of empty chairs at the dinner table.
Life without them in upcoming events.
Changes in friend's circles and social life.
My mother is ninety-two years old, is lucid, and is comfortable. She has adapted to assisted living, because she realizes she needs their care. Having broken her back multiple times, she needs assistance moving. Often assisted living gets a bum rap, and there may be facilities that skimp on actual care. It probably is more the norm. Covid made elder care more challenging. In reality they get her up in the morning, they dress her, they bring or take her to meals, and they administer medication. It is a challenging and laborious job to work in such a facility. I am appreciative these facilities exist, and that my mother saw fit to buy long term care insurance. It was my number one goal to make sure she used it. Almost two years later, it is a blur. The amount of work and dedication needed to make your loved one comfortable is formidable. I learned to change gears in my life and apply effort to new things. Her care has been the most recent. Hidden in the blankets of elder care are many life-effecting scenarios. When discovered easily they become a full time job, because the path is set, and there is no changing it. You will make the best of your time, but you cannot avoid the ending. The list compiled above is accurate. When I look at my digital photographs in iPhoto on my Mac, my heart aches. The photos that are the most disturbing are the ones documenting our familiar past, the past that existed before the newest chapter began. (the newest chapter being injury, hospital, rehabilitation, and assisted living) This year and nine months is the most recent and familiar, but a peculiar thing has happened. On a dime both of our lives changed drastically. There was not time to think about it much less lament loss. You hadn't lost anything yet. You are still living in the same house (me), and I still have my mother. Perhaps time is the seeming evil sword that inflicts the wound in your heart. As things resolve as best they can, you have more time to understand what has changed, how this effects you, and what you are missing. The only thing I miss is my musical activity, and I don't openly grieve it, because I know I still have it. It will not go away. When I look at those infernal digital photographs in their rich vibrant hues, I see in retrospect for the first time the penultimate chapter of our lives. They were productive, creative, and industrious years. Most of all they were artistic. We made the best of our situation, and it was fruitful. My mother lived to be ninety, and she was healthy all of that time. I learned to cook gourmet meals for the both of us, I landscaped our yard, and I rebuilt vintage musical instruments. I designed a collegiate level jazz music history course, and I expanded my music collection greatly, both classical and jazz. I have not missed these things, because other than the yard suffering neglect, I still can benefit from these investments. (You have to be proactive though) I actively have to take advantage of these resources, and this I am trying to do. It's those photographs! To see what we had accomplished is heart breaking. I planted flowers in pots, in the ground, and tended them through the summer. Our yard was a botanical garden. It was because this is where I focused my creative energy. Cooking was the same. It is not dissimilar to jazz. You mix things up to get a pleasing product. I am sure some of the grief I feel is from my mother. She works hard to disguise it, because ninety-years is a productive lifetime. She is grateful for what she has had. I am realizing I am better off not looking at the photographs. Herein lies the rub. This is the quintessential challenge of losing a family member, especially a parent. The process of cleansing is tedious, time-consuming, and sorrowful. There is no escaping it. Most defer the experience by using an estate company to sift through their family belongings. We did not have enough stuff to merit that, so I pledged to do it myself, and I am. In essence I am grieving my mother's passing proactively, and the true bereavement is in the list above. It is all true, and when I look at the photographs the loss is stark and painful. The beauty we created now creates intense pain. I know that in myself these things are possible again, because they, life music, have become a part of you. I could plant flowers again. I could remember how to cook gourmet meals. As I do these things, the absence of my mother is dire. I would not have done these things if it had not been for her.
