Getting Back in the Blog
As we speed toward the end of 2018, I can’t help but think about and reflect on where I was last year at this time. Jay was getting weaker day by day, and we were both recovering from the onslaught of family who made their way to Michigan from near and far to spend the Christmas holiday with us. Although no one said it out loud, it was apparent to everyone that this would likely be Jay’s last Christmas, and all his nieces and nephews, as well as my siblings and their spouses, wanted to spend the holiday with him. I remember letting everyone know they were welcome to come, but not to expect my usual “hostess with the mostest” approach to such visits. In keeping with the very special people they are, they were totally self sufficient the entire time they were here and I didn’t have to do anything except be with Jay and make sure he was managing okay with the chaos going on around him. I have some very sweet pictures from that visit. Jay had a lot of trouble holding up his end of any conversation due to the brain tumor eating away at his language controls, but he clearly enjoyed seeing everyone and felt the love that surrounded him.
Fast forward a year and so much has happened in my life. From losing Jay in February, to Conrad moving to New York, to preparing for and hosting Jay’s Appreciation Event in early May, to a six week traveling odyssey in June and July to Tanzania, Ireland and Romania, to going back to work in August, to adopting a rescue puppy in September, to beginning a major renovation project to add more livable space to my small house, to just learning to live with the sorrow inside me, this year has been a true test of my resolve to discover and rebuild my identity after the whirlwind eight months that thrust me into widowhood. (apologies to all you English majors for the unusually long sentence…)
I have not written a Kindness Continuum entry since early September. I could say that all of the above sapped my reserves or that I just didn’t have the time. While writing and posting the blog does require a certain amount of time and effort to develop a blog topic worthy of publication, the real truth is that every time I thought about starting a topic, I simply didn’t feel that I had anything useful to say. I found myself wondering what compelled me to start this blog in the first place and why did I think that my previous blog posts were interesting to anyone but me? What kind of hubris does it take to put one’s self “out there” regularly and expect others to take the time to read and be interested in my writings? Who am I to think that I have something to say that hasn’t been said before and better by someone else?
So I went into a writing hiatus and instead concentrated on learning how to navigate my new widowed lifestyle. I worked on settling into work, spending time with friends, staying in touch with family, and training my puppy. What’s changed now? I’m not really sure, but I’ve always been a person who is pretty much an open book when it comes to my thoughts and feelings. Somehow it continues to be cathartic to write down some of the things that are on my mind and offer them up for comment and conversation. So far the overall experience hosting this blog has been more positive than negative so I figure when the “spirit” moves me to put myself into the world I’ll just do it. While I hope my words are interesting or inspiring or otherwise satisfying for others to read, that has never been my primary motive (although I do enjoy your responses, and I continue to invite others to contribute your own writings to this blog).
Grieving Through the First Year
Grief experts will tell you that after losing someone close, one of the major tasks, which can be challenging, is getting through all the “firsts.” And yes, I have been methodically mourning my way through various “firsts” associated with the loss of Jay. Our wedding anniversary on March 22, Jay’s birthday on May 2, Thanksgiving, the annual Michigan/Ohio State football match up, and now Christmas and New Year’s (with more to come in 2019 as we approach my birthday in January and the final end on February 11). But as I think about these “firsts,” I am also realizing that it isn’t the “firsts” that are hardest for me. Those are the times I tend to spend with friends or family, people with whom I feel nurtured and supported and comforted. It is the rest of the time, the daily living, that can be just as hard, if not harder, than those “special” days.
Based on my own experience (admittedly a rather small sample…), I believe that when you have spent your daily life with someone for many years (37 in my case), it is all the little intimacies that only the two of you experienced together that you miss the most. The conversations and memories we had that we didn’t have with anyone else. The expectations we had of each other day to day. The way we balanced each other in social situations. The easy way we could communicate without even talking. The comfort and significance of touches, smells, voices, humor. The physical warmth and security we provided each other. Jay’s intimate presence in my life every day whether he was next to me in bed, riding with me in the car, sitting at the table, watching TV, working in the next room, listening on the other end of the phone while on the other side of the country or world, etc. etc.
The fact is that we were there for each other and shared the most private and personal aspects of our daily lives without even realizing that’s what we were doing. In general, I think that the significance of these everyday moments, and the frequency with which they occur over the years of a long term relationship, is rarely appreciated by the participants while they are happening. That’s what joining lives together is all about. We are separate people, but by the same token we behave as one cohesive, seamless unit in so many ways. With Jay gone, that which was “us” is now broken, and the separate person that was “I” is now a different “I” because who I was separate from Jay was influenced by and grew out of the oneness that was “us” when we were together.
When the “us” broke apart, the world that was our daily life together also broke apart. Out of necessity I am slowly but surely building another sense of self, another separate person, but this time without the anchor of the “us” that was. The fact that various significant anniversaries and holidays are occurring around me is incidental to the overall transformation of my life without Jay. Every day is its own struggle. Every day sees new opportunities for the new person that is becoming the new me.
Who am I without Jay? I don’t know yet, but I am definitely a work in progress, and definitely someone new and different than I was before. Stay tuned (and subscribe to the blog) if you are interested in taking the journey with me.
Sue, I appreciate your writing and the invitation you extend to us to know you better. You’ve been resourceful, tenacious, and connected to others in your grief. You have my deepest respect for these things. But more than that, you’re just being your Susan self; infinitely human and infinitely lovable. Your voice, your experiences, and your wisdom feel like a warm blanket to me; comforting, familiar, and warm. Keep up the writing. Thanks!
When I read you writing, I savor the way your “Susan Voice” shines through. I hear your tone and inflection and feel every word. I’m so glad to see this unique aspect of your individual identity flourish, for it is wise and creative and so helpful to others on this journey. How magnificent your evolution is.