Grieving Yourself

Grieving for yourself and your death - is that normal?

I've kicked around plans and ideas for my service, etc. for awhile.  I made a list of songs, etc.  I've got a will, an advance directive and hopefully, some plan for the disposal of my body (I hope to go to the Body Farm in Knoxville!)

There are times when I'm sad about other things and I think about what happens after I leave.  My children are 27 and 29.  Will they be ok?  Have I done enough for them?  Well, I don't like my answers to myself and that causes me great despair.

But I grieve, for their loss but mostly for mine.  I won't see them become 40 years old, maybe not even see Lynn turn 30.  I grieve because I won't see my grandchildren become adults.  The oldest one just turned four - who am I kidding?

If history repeats itself, I've got somewhere between 9 and 15 months left.  My dad died at 58 - so did his dad.  I will be 58 on June 1 - so I'm fully expecting to go next winter when my semi-yearly battle with MRSA comes to call. 

But I'm going to refuse to go!  I've built so much strength the last few months - I refuse to think there is so little time left.

And, when I do let that reality creep into my mind, I grieve.  For a life that I've loved, even in  it's harshest moments, to the babies I will leave behind, because they will all always be babies to me.

A Mother's Tears

In the last thirty years, I've shed tears for many reasons.  Happiness, pride swelling in my chest to almost burst my eyeballs out, physical pain that left me barely able to whimper, fear that left me speechless and silent heartbreak at losing a loved one I couldn't imagine being in this world without.

But, none of those compare to a mother's tears when her child is bawling their eyes out in anguish and pain and confusion and despair.

I've had to see both of my children with these kind of tears this week.  They are in very different situations, but, they are both hurting.  And no mother can stand that - there's nothing to do with these times but just keep pushing.  It will get better, it will get different, and this won't seem so bad a year from now.  Mostly because there'll be the next rung of the ladder that will probably be worse!

How do you encourage your child to keep going, even when that going is so hard and rough?  Because that's the only choice. 

Today my son has threatened to take his life.  This is not the first time, and probably won't be the last.  But today his anguish is palatable, I can taste it, I feel it in my bones and hear it in his sobs. 

And in all their anguish, I cry.  Rivers of tears.  And I cry out to God, please help me to help them!  Tell me what to do or say to ease their pain.  Help them, dear Lord, to keep pushing.

And today, I want my own mother to cry to.

What ye sow, so shall ye reap!

Well, if I never knew the meaning of these words, I do now.

I'm very sad, more sad that I've ever been that I can remember.  I've blogged many times about being a mom and some of those hardships, but the last seven days have been so bad that I truly wonder why I'm still breathing.

Last Monday my daughter, whom I love so very dearly, and have been so very proud of her whole life, came to tell me she was pregnant.  That should have been a very happy announcement and one that I've actually prayed about.  She's 29, has Protein S deficiency and PCOS.  Becoming pregnant and maintaining a pregnancy full term would be a huge accomplishment, if it happened at all, and we've known this and discussed it.

She has been married almost six years to a man she dated five, but in the last few months they'd hit a rough spot.  I guess more than a rough spot, since her husband is not the father of her child.

I have no clue what to say.  The thoughts in my head are not nice.  And I've cussed out a few people in the last week that probably didn't deserve it, but I'm lashing out. 

There's no fixing any of this.  Her husband is heartbroken, but standing beside her.  I can't decide if he's a saint or stupid beyond words.  The sperm donor is not free - he has a wife and child that is almost two.  He doesn't work consistently, still lives with his mom and not someone I think I can ever accept the way I have her husband, nor love either.  Right now, I think I hate him.

BUT that may be because 30 years I was in a similar situation.  The man I married, before I got pregnant, had to get divorced first.  And they didn't have any children.  But today none of that is any comfort.  I set a pattern, I sowed a bad seed and now I will reap what I've sown. 

I will not only know the heartbreak my mother felt, but feel it times ten.  And I know that in 7 1/2 months, if we have a little baby, I will be so filled with love that some of this will fade.

The worse part is having no one to turn to - no one to share the pain with.  My mom and dad are gone and her dad wouldn't care that this hurts me, in fact he'd probably find it perfectly fine and funny.  So, not only do I feel the weight of ten worlds on my shoulders and my heart hurts so bad, I don't know why it beats, I am standing alone.

Years ago, my Mom told me I was making a bed so hard I couldn't lie in it.  I thought she was crazy, but I now understand.  I'm paying, and I suspect I've only scratched the surface.