Posted by Benjamin on: 05.02.2008 /
The wikipedia article on grief starts out:
Grief is a single-faceted response to loss. Although conventionally focused on the emotional response to loss, it also has physical, cognitive, behavioral, social and philosophical dimensions. Common to human experience is the death of a loved one, whether it be a friend, family, or other close companion. While the terms are often used interchangeably, bereavement often refers to the state of loss, and grief to the reaction to loss
My lovely mom is at the final stage of terminal ovarian cancer. No food goes through her GIT, because it’s blocked by cancer, and so she gets hardly any nutrition. She’s lost another 20 pounds in the last 3 weeks or so. I’ve never seen her so skinny–I can see the shape of her facial bones more distinctly than ever in my life.
She called me up Wednesday morning to say “This morning when I woke up I felt like God had grabbed hold of my big toe and was pulling on it saying ‘Time to come home, Sue.’ So I just wanted to say good bye, and I love you, and I’ll see you in heaven, and I hope you find a good church so that your lovely amazing little girls will grow up to love the Lord. In case I don’t get to talk to you again.”
In response to that I cried.
So we went out to hang out with her on Wednesday afternoon. And my lovely Nana Kay was there. Nana Kay is my mom’s mom. She must be 80 something years old. She looks a lot healthier than my mom. It must be really hard to have to watch your child die.
I think I’m experiencing grief. I never really had this experience before, so I’m having to feel it out as I go. I’m not functioning nearly as well as I normally do (not that my “normal” is all that brilliant, actually). I’m in my last quarter at school, and I can feel myself seriously screwing up in terms of my grades this quarter, and I can’t really seem to care that much (which is no doubt partially a function of the fact that it’s my last quarter).
About 5 days ago I texted a good friend of mine “My mom is dying, therefore I hate God. QED.”
Today I asked Megan
B: “Do you have to believe in life after death to be a Christian?” She said
M: “No”.
B: “But isn’t it in the Apostles Creed?”
M: “Oh–yeah, that ‘resurrection of the body’ bit. But you don’t have to believe the whole Apostles Creed to be a Christian. You just have to believe that if you want to work for World Vision or IJM.”
B: “Oh. Do you think one could get a job with them if one only believed it very occasionally?”
M: “Well, that would be very honest, to tell them that, wouldn’t it?”
My poor dad is very sad, I think. My best objective guess is that this whole thing is not only harder on him than it is on anyone else, but that it’s *much* harder on him than on anyone else. How shall I encourage him? I don’t know. I’m such a mess myself I’m not really in any postion to encourage him. Alas. They’ve been married since … ‘72, I think. Or maybe ‘71. Right in there somewhere.
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Comment by: Rachel
1 05/2/08 1:31 PM | Comment Link |Benjamin and Megan, I love you guys. I know what it is to lose a parent and it hurts like hell. I wish I was there so I could give you a hug in person. Call or email me if you want to talk.
Comment by: Helen
2 05/2/08 3:47 PM | Comment Link |Benjamin, I can’t imagine what you’re going through.
I’m impressed you’re still functioning at all.
You rock because you’re Benjamin. QED :)
Comment by: Randy
3 05/2/08 3:48 PM | Comment Link |Me, too.
My mom died of cancer back in 01. Dad still isn’t right in the head (or heart) over losing her. Our whole family went to hell, relationally, once mom passed. We’re just beginning to figure out how to live our lives together without her (dad is still withdrawn). For our extremely dysfunctional clan, mom was the glue, the interpreter, he healer, the mediator, and the creator/maintainer of the perpetual illusion that all was well. Reality has been hard for us to deal with, but so far two of my siblings have gotten sober, which is a really good thing. We are healthier now than ever, I think, but still have a long way to go.
I know that’s not very encouraging, but it’s only to say that I think I can feel a bit of your pain here in Sparks, NV. I wish I could make the pain go away for us both, but I cannot. And I don’t think God will, even though I believe he could. Suffering seems to be part of the master plan, and pain is not always a bad thing. Sometimes it’s all we have to assure ourselves we’re still alive.
Praying for you and your family today, B. Peace to you all.
Comment by: David H
4 05/2/08 5:54 PM | Comment Link |I grew up being taught that everything was part of God’s plan and good things happened to those who really believed in God. It was easy to believe when you didn’t think about it much and I remember hearing many counsel those who were sick, sad or hurting over life that they just needed to believe. I probably said it myself.
Now an adult, I find such words hollow and horrible. But the internet isn’t really conducive to sitting in silence with a friend. I weep for you.
I’m a poor poet, but a meeting a few years ago with a woman dying of cancer prompted me to write the following.
Solace
Reaching arm wavers under
weight more than it can bear.
Trembling hand asks:
Can you understand,
do you see a plan,
is there more than pain
beyond this strain
for breath?
Is life more than
grasses withering,
flowers falling, and
the word of the Lord,
the word of the Lord.
A painting recomposed
on canvas of my mind:
Man reclines with fingers reaching,
towards cloud, sky and what’s beyond.
From the blue, anthropomorphized
the other looks back from alien eyes
but extends with heart and mind
and hand a love so strong
it sifted stars to twinkle night,
crafted butterfly to fluttering alight
on flaming dandelion so
drunk with sun it tosses gold
to green grasping children.
Remember before rejection
God and man, hand-in-hand,
in the cool of day walking
through a garden
that weedless grew.
There no fruit fell too soon
no stench of rot filled a room,
no children wept from fear
of their pending doom.
There Adam heard the maker’s
voice and was not afraid,
of him who spoke and breathed
earth, heaven and all things.
Tempting, yes, to talk of paradise,
where cut flowers grow again,
to offer words of bread and wine,
that raise wall and feed flame
against silent night
and certain fall.
But what ward against forsaking
is known to those who haven’t hung
between heaven and earth, praying
for the damp embrace of dirt?
What can anyone know of torment
who has not sucked each breath
like water found in a desert vast
and hated each sustaining drop?
No words will quench the consuming pain,
no rock-a-bye quiet her into the light.
A touch is the only balm.
So I take her hand.
Comment by: benjamin ady
5 05/2/08 9:24 PM | Comment Link |Rachel Helen Randy David,
Thank you for your kind gracious words. I just now got back on line and read all your comments at once. You cuatro rock. Kind of made my day. Thank you.
Comment by: joe
6 05/3/08 1:15 PM | Comment Link |thinking of you mate.
Comment by: benjamin ady
7 05/3/08 9:54 PM | Comment Link |Joe
Thank you for your gracious words here and at oxymoron =).
Comment by: Elaine
8 05/4/08 4:17 PM | Comment Link |Benjamin -
It is hard losing our parents - when you thought you had more time…
My father died in 1997 (age 71) and mom in 2001 (age 74) - diagnosed within 4 weeks of each other - with “C”.
I’m glad you were able to spend time with your mom on Wednesday…be present with her - no words are required.
Grief comes in waves, and it will gradually diminish, but not totally fade.
your sharing has resurfaced my grief even now.
be kind to yourself and your family - give each other space - each of us responds differently to loss. however you process it will be right for you…just allow it to happen.
My mother was a wonderful cook and famous for her desserts. So, I printed up her “secret” recipes, gave them out, and invited friends to prepare their favorite “Pat” recipe for her memorial service. It is a good memory.
Find your own way.
Comment by: Janice
9 05/5/08 8:43 AM | Comment Link |((Benjamin)) I don’t really know what to say other than I feel ya’. Literally.
Janice
Comment by: Benjamin
10 05/5/08 3:27 PM | Comment Link |Elaine, Janice,
thank you =)
Comment by: Doreen
11 05/8/08 3:49 PM | Comment Link |I’m sorry for your pain Benjamin, and Megan’s. And sorry for the pain your father is feeling. Even if you felt grief before, it wouldn’t be the same as this grief; I don’t think any 2 grievings are the same.
I’m glad you cried. Crying is a wonderful thing.
Don’t know that you can encourage Dad, just like I can’t really encourage you. But you can be there for Dad, just like I can try to be here for you.
If you cry or laugh or are angry or bitter or giggle or [fill in the blank], it’s cool with me.
Comment by: Benjamin
12 05/8/08 11:34 PM | Comment Link |Doreen =)
Thank you. You are very kind. The think I love about OTM is all these amazingly kind people You, and all of you, totally rock.