There is a little-known fact about losing a parent: you go crazy for a while. Well, that's a fact for me. Obviously, we all live through pain. Pain is inevitable. Some pain is worse than others.
Knowing that grieving is a process doesn't help much. I know the phases of grief. Intellectually, I can take a step back and analyze my feelings. Oh, I'm in the bargaining phase again, how nice. Acceptance must be right around the corner. Look, I'm angry now.
I can tell you that the actual feeling part of the process isn't much fun. There are good days and bad days. What do we do when there is a big gaping whole in our lives? I'm trying to patch that hole up the best that I can. I visualize a hole in the fabric; I am clumsily trying to patch it up. One patch is the people who love me. You gotta have that. Thank God that I do. Another would be the people whom I love. Thank God for them, too. My children have their own patch, they just do, because children are our greatest gift. My children often heal what is broken inside of me.
I'm sewing up this hole in the fabric of my life. I don't think it's going to be a fast fix. I'm not sure this hole can be entirely filled. Maybe it will be like earning patches in Girl Scouts or Boy Scouts. Here is my self-worth patch, my humanitarian patch, my building-a-fire patch . . . .
Have you ever seen a pair of pants patched up to the extreme? They really are interesting garments. Quilts are beautiful and they are mostly bits and pieces of fabrics. I know I can make something beautiful from my bits and pieces. I'm just not seeing it yet.
Sunday, March 7, 2010
Patch Work
Posted by S.D.S at 8:20 AM
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2 comments:
I have yet to experience this one grief which I'm sure is unequaled by any other.
I think you're right - you can never completely patch that hole with family or friends. But, I think - I hope - that what helps fill that hole beyond the patching are the memories.
Fortunately for you, your dad left lots behind in the form of not just mental memories, but actual tangible items.
Lean on us...that's what we're here for.
Yup. Unique experience, losing a parent. One of the ways the world can be divided ... into those of us who have lost a parent and those who have not.
The good news is that it does get better. Like the wonderful tweed jacket that suddenly gets threadbare on the elbows, someday you'll look and find the hole in your heart has received a beautiful set of leather patches in just the right color.
The hole is always there, but it stops being such a big distraction, such a constant pain.
And then ... the really good news ... after a few years you can sit under a tree and talk with the departed parent, and probably find them much mellowed by being disembodied.
Lots of love and hugs, Dear One ... and so much pride in the out-and-proud work you're doing in this blog.
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