I haven't written in this blog in a while, but a close loss drives me to write again.
My secretary's 25 year old son and 5 month old granddaughter were killed in a car accident Sunday. I have since been awake every night crying.
I wonder how to help her and my staff work through this. They want to know what to do when she returns to work, how to be helpful, what she might need.
I am a resource in some ways and in other ways everyone's experience is different, and everyone's needs are different.
Also, I don't think it's possible for me to truly convey what I believe Gillian is now experiencing in any way that would help anyone.
I was wondering if in my early blog posts I had something helpful or insightful about my return to work that would be helpful, so I after thinking about reading them all night, I got up and looked at it. But, I just got stuck in the awful experience of reading those first couple months of posts. I have been reliving, thinking about those first few weeks and months a lot in the last few days.
In the end I think any post I wrote is too personal to be helpful, and not professional enough for me to share.
So, I'm stuck with a knot in my stomach, unable to go to the gym this morning because I'm drained of energy, unable to get enough sleep, eating sugar, and wondering how we all keep going.
Yesterday I realized it will take me until August to climb out of this hole I am falling in. I was already having a hard time with the change of season and the few sunny days we had. Then comes my birthday later this month, which has been hard since my fabulous 40th before Lev died. And then comes the end of school, which is always hard, but at least Lev's friends aren't graduating. And then July, which is always hard with Lev's birthday and death anniversary.
So, I thought giving myself until August before I expect to actually feel okay again is reasonable. I was hoping that somehow realizing that's the situation I'm in might help me get some sleep.
But, then when Liana climbed in to cuddle at 2:30am I couldn't get back to sleep. Here I am, blathering on, hoping that maybe this is what I need to sleep tomorrow. Maybe it's writing.
I suppose this answers the question of how I'm doing. My plan is to get to work early and go for a walk in the woods. Then I'm sure I'll pull it together and be fine today. Let's hope for sleep tonight.
Below is the post I thought might somehow be helpful, but I decided not to share it.
August 29, 2010 (Lev died July 9, 2010 of bacterial meningitis, without gaining consciousness or being able to say goodbye.)
The enormity of the loss
My mind struggles to comprehend the enormity of the loss. How can one so close to my heart, so much a part of who I am just be gone? So quickly and definitively.
Last week I wrote about how I was "in denial", but I think it's just too much to comprehend. I read in the book The Worst Loss that parents have two versions of their child, the one that is the real child, the one with the body that stands in front of you, and then the ongoing dialog with your child that you have as a parent. The dialog is the one that lets me know at the moment that Jaal slept over at Joe's house, but he might be home in half an hour for breakfast. It is the one that knows he is going to college in a few weeks, thinks about if he has everything he needs, hopes one day that he will grow up, follow his dreams, get married, have children (I told him he needs to have double now, but he wasn't so keen on that idea). That is the other parent, the one that is proud of your kids when they have done nothing in particular, the one that looks at the calendar and thinks of all the nice things they will be doing, that puts their clothes in the laundry because you know they will be wearing them soon.
It is that side of the mom of Lev that I am not able to let go of and that causes me the most grief. I know he is gone. I saw him die, I put him in the cremation chamber and watched my mom push the button. Yet a part of me keeps waiting and hoping. As I write, I glance up at the door, thinking maybe I am wrong, maybe I am crazy, in a coma, dreaming, hallucinating - maybe I will wake up to a life that has Lev's body and soul still in it instead of this "sub life" as Tony calls it. I want to buy his favorite foods at the store, I think about when he is coming down for breakfast, I remember to save some berries for him, my mind always goes to thoughts of Lev, second nature, before the jolt of reality comes back to remind me that I actually won't be doing those things.
Why us? We see so many people with their children, sometimes yelling at them, sometimes overweight and unhealthy, eating crap, but they still go on. Why Lev? He was strong. On our trip to Canada he was saying how great he felt, how healthy, how good. Just two days prior. He was making plans to see Zay and his cousins, to go to French camp, to keep on enjoying his life. He deserved that. He has been cheated of his future.
I fear the calendar. I fear looking at it, and I fear the future. I fear the future without Lev. How can we just continue with life without him? The days, weeks, and months pass with an emptiness. It has been over seven weeks, yet it seems like it happened just last week, with life in a fog. Every day, I am so thankful when it is over. I welcome sleep and the passing of the day. I know with time the hurt will feel less urgent. I know that although we will forever feel this new depth of sadness that we had never imagined before, we will also be able to laugh and enjoy things. I know it is possible, because I have read that it happens to other parents. They find a way to add joy back into their lives along with the grief. "Learning to live with the loss." I know it will happen, but not soon enough. If we just make it through the days, eventually we will arrive at a new normal. So, we make it through the days.
There will be a time when it will be enough, just Tony, Jaal, and me, we will be three and we will be enough. That time is not now. Now we are still four minus one. The empty chair, the gap in our circle. But there will be a time when we can be happy with just three. I have faith that it will come in time. I do. Yet, somehow that doesn't help with the now. The now wakes up every day unmotivated to do anything. Yet, doing things feels good. I could just lay outside in the grass with Snowy for hours, yet something always gets me up. Work has been good that way. It gets me up and going. And, I am able to do it, and I am good at it. My staff is relieved that I am back, and supportive of the journey. It is difficult, all consuming, with so many demands at once, but with so many demands, the missing of Lev sits further at the back of my mind for a few hours. And, I guess that it a kind of temporary relief to keep me sane.
School starts in a few days, on Wednesday. Friday we had our first full day with staff. I was able to be there all day, although I delegated most of the day to teachers. We are moving forward with a good vision and collaboration. We spent an hour brainstorming our belief statements, why are we here? what do we believe in? how do we think we will get better? why do we need to get better? That kind of work makes me want to continue with my job. I think I really am helping to transform the school and make it better for all kids, even if our scores still suck and we are in Step 2 of not meeting AYP. Next year, when the bar increased to 85% of kids meeting standard I'm sure we'll go into Step 3. But, I know we are getting better and it makes me feel good.
How I can jump between school issues and Lev still amazes me. I am disgusted with myself for being able to go on. It seems trivial and stupid when there is a loss looming so big on the other side of my brain. It would make more sense to be dysfunctional, to pull my hair out, to break windows, to sleep all day, to walk forever. Those things would make sense to me. Being able to go to work and welcome new kids to our school with a smile, making sure they have a backpack and know where the bathrooms are, that seems incredible to me, fake and pathetic.
Friday it took me a couple hours after I got home to come off the adrenaline of the day and sit and have a good cry. Other days I'll cry on the way to and from school. I can't predict it yet. I don't know what it will be like when school starts. I'm glad I'll be half days in September. Even though the afternoons will be easy, it will be a relief to be able to go home mid day. And, see Jaal more and be with Tony.
Last week I wrote about how I was "in denial", but I think it's just too much to comprehend. I read in the book The Worst Loss that parents have two versions of their child, the one that is the real child, the one with the body that stands in front of you, and then the ongoing dialog with your child that you have as a parent. The dialog is the one that lets me know at the moment that Jaal slept over at Joe's house, but he might be home in half an hour for breakfast. It is the one that knows he is going to college in a few weeks, thinks about if he has everything he needs, hopes one day that he will grow up, follow his dreams, get married, have children (I told him he needs to have double now, but he wasn't so keen on that idea). That is the other parent, the one that is proud of your kids when they have done nothing in particular, the one that looks at the calendar and thinks of all the nice things they will be doing, that puts their clothes in the laundry because you know they will be wearing them soon.
It is that side of the mom of Lev that I am not able to let go of and that causes me the most grief. I know he is gone. I saw him die, I put him in the cremation chamber and watched my mom push the button. Yet a part of me keeps waiting and hoping. As I write, I glance up at the door, thinking maybe I am wrong, maybe I am crazy, in a coma, dreaming, hallucinating - maybe I will wake up to a life that has Lev's body and soul still in it instead of this "sub life" as Tony calls it. I want to buy his favorite foods at the store, I think about when he is coming down for breakfast, I remember to save some berries for him, my mind always goes to thoughts of Lev, second nature, before the jolt of reality comes back to remind me that I actually won't be doing those things.
Why us? We see so many people with their children, sometimes yelling at them, sometimes overweight and unhealthy, eating crap, but they still go on. Why Lev? He was strong. On our trip to Canada he was saying how great he felt, how healthy, how good. Just two days prior. He was making plans to see Zay and his cousins, to go to French camp, to keep on enjoying his life. He deserved that. He has been cheated of his future.
I fear the calendar. I fear looking at it, and I fear the future. I fear the future without Lev. How can we just continue with life without him? The days, weeks, and months pass with an emptiness. It has been over seven weeks, yet it seems like it happened just last week, with life in a fog. Every day, I am so thankful when it is over. I welcome sleep and the passing of the day. I know with time the hurt will feel less urgent. I know that although we will forever feel this new depth of sadness that we had never imagined before, we will also be able to laugh and enjoy things. I know it is possible, because I have read that it happens to other parents. They find a way to add joy back into their lives along with the grief. "Learning to live with the loss." I know it will happen, but not soon enough. If we just make it through the days, eventually we will arrive at a new normal. So, we make it through the days.
There will be a time when it will be enough, just Tony, Jaal, and me, we will be three and we will be enough. That time is not now. Now we are still four minus one. The empty chair, the gap in our circle. But there will be a time when we can be happy with just three. I have faith that it will come in time. I do. Yet, somehow that doesn't help with the now. The now wakes up every day unmotivated to do anything. Yet, doing things feels good. I could just lay outside in the grass with Snowy for hours, yet something always gets me up. Work has been good that way. It gets me up and going. And, I am able to do it, and I am good at it. My staff is relieved that I am back, and supportive of the journey. It is difficult, all consuming, with so many demands at once, but with so many demands, the missing of Lev sits further at the back of my mind for a few hours. And, I guess that it a kind of temporary relief to keep me sane.
School starts in a few days, on Wednesday. Friday we had our first full day with staff. I was able to be there all day, although I delegated most of the day to teachers. We are moving forward with a good vision and collaboration. We spent an hour brainstorming our belief statements, why are we here? what do we believe in? how do we think we will get better? why do we need to get better? That kind of work makes me want to continue with my job. I think I really am helping to transform the school and make it better for all kids, even if our scores still suck and we are in Step 2 of not meeting AYP. Next year, when the bar increased to 85% of kids meeting standard I'm sure we'll go into Step 3. But, I know we are getting better and it makes me feel good.
How I can jump between school issues and Lev still amazes me. I am disgusted with myself for being able to go on. It seems trivial and stupid when there is a loss looming so big on the other side of my brain. It would make more sense to be dysfunctional, to pull my hair out, to break windows, to sleep all day, to walk forever. Those things would make sense to me. Being able to go to work and welcome new kids to our school with a smile, making sure they have a backpack and know where the bathrooms are, that seems incredible to me, fake and pathetic.
Friday it took me a couple hours after I got home to come off the adrenaline of the day and sit and have a good cry. Other days I'll cry on the way to and from school. I can't predict it yet. I don't know what it will be like when school starts. I'm glad I'll be half days in September. Even though the afternoons will be easy, it will be a relief to be able to go home mid day. And, see Jaal more and be with Tony.
