The 5 Stages of Grief Are Bullshit

My grief comes in waves.  I can be fine for a while, and then something sets it off.

I got hit by a big one tonight.  Worse than I've felt in at least a week.  I don't even know what started it this time.  I think I was telling one of the cats that she just had to deal with me for a while.  Next thing I knew, I was bawling.

And here's the thing:  The whole "five stages thing" -- denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance -- it doesn't work like that.  I don't have any clear emotions or stages going on here.  It's all a big maelstrom, all swirled together.

And nobody ever mentions the guilt.

What hurts me the most is the absolute certainty that everything could have been different, if only I'd acted sooner.  Insisted that she just get to a follow-up appointments sooner, even if it meant going to a cardiologist when she didn't think she needed one.

So, yeah.  I blame myself.  She didn't deserve this.  She started last year in a positive direction, her diabetes and blood pressure under control, her weight coming under control, her energy level rising.  She didn't deserve a slow deterioration of health, only to spend the last few months of her life in and out of the hospital.  To die away from home.

I failed her.  She deserved better.

Is this depression?  Anger?  It can't be denial, because I sure as hell know what happened.  I was in the goddamn room.  There's no one for me to bargain with, unless I go off the rails and start believing that Doctor Who is real.  What can I do but accept what is?  Yet, how on Earth can I accept a future without my center?

If there's any one word that comes close to describing how I feel, it's "lost."

I know I'm not tired.  I have a bad habit if saying to myself, "I'm tired."  It's from years of being actually tired, but also I'd say it when I was just unhappy.  I catch myself saying "I'm tired" now, and I know better.  I'm not tired.  I wasn't tired nearly as often as I told myself I was.  I'm just very, very unhappy,  and don't know what to do about it.

That was me tonight.

Next wave, who knows?  I might start tearing up at happy memories.  I might get stuck searching old chat logs.  I might go on a cleaning frenzy, trying to get rid of things that have no use but to bring on more waves.

Or I might successfully distract myself for another couple of weeks.

The kids have been so good to me.  Much better than I deserve.  Robin raised them very well.  They're my purpose now, and I've no intention of doing anything stupid that would cause them more grief.  I may not be as strong as I thought I was, but I will be stronger than that.  That's not what any of this is about.

When I do figure out what it's about, I'll write about that.

Alone (not alone)

Arthur and Anita (A2) have gone back to Missouri.  They put their lives on hold for us, for months.  As Anita put it, it feels like they came for Easter just last week.  But they stayed, and helped through Robin's entire illness and recovery cycle, three hospital stays, and finally sat shiva with me after her death.  (No, we're not Jewish, it just ended up being seven days.)  They were going to split up again, leaving Arthur here with me, but I told them that they have to get some balance back into their lives, be with each other.  In about a week, they'll be back for the rest of their things.

I've been alone before; I know how to do it.  The Army sent me to Korea for a whole year.  Various business trips, lasting from one week to four.  I've just never felt alone, not since we first became engaged.  I always knew it was temporary.

And I'm not really alone, even now.  Kyrie is literally only blocks away, walking distance, and I'll see her again on Monday. 

It's that hole-in-the-heart thing, again.  With constant company, it's a little easier to distract myself from it, but hasn't left me. 

I know this will improve.  No, scratch that.  I know that I can do this.  I don't know that it will get any better.

Deep breath.

Wave has passed.

We're all planning to do more together.  Possibly a Branson trip in late August.  The remembering in late September.  Kyrie suggested that she and Rick go with me on a karaoke night (side note: she doesn't really like karaoke), which would have to wait until after the next shift change.  Maybe even accompany A2 on their cruise if a larger cabin opens up. 

You know.  All the things that Robin would have done, if her health permitted.

No, that's not fair.  She did do some of these things, when she felt better in the past.  Still, I have a right to rant and rail against the universe for denying her more of them.  And a little bit against myself, if I'm being honest.

She deserved more.

She's still the glue that holds us all together.  I like to think she'd be happy about that.  I certainly still feel her love all around me, through the kids, and I hope they can feel it from me, too.  That's why I know I can do this.

Hang on, another wave.

This, more than anything, makes me want to believe in something beyond this life. 

Okay, time to stop this, and go to sleep.  

She's Gone

Early July 5, I lost my love and best friend of 39 years.

Mother of our children - both the two born to us, and the next generation, and everyone she "adopted." She was kind and generous to a fault. Complete strangers who admired a crochet project would sometimes find themselves the new owner of that same scarf, hat, or baby blanket. Neighborhood children knew her as "the book lady" at Halloween.

Constant companion and confidant - we rarely chose to do anything apart from one another. She shared all my secrets, goals, dreams, and helped me achieve many of the same.

Creative and intelligent - she mastered many crafts, played many musical instruments, and wrote beautifully. She inspired our son to music, our daughter to art, and me to be a better writer. She ran most of our family games.

A tough advocate - she would fight for those she loved. Though she lost her last fight, she never surrendered. May she find peace, if that is what she seeks, or at least a worthy adventure.

Robin, you left a hole in my life and my heart that I don't know can ever be filled again. I don't know that I would ever want to.

Her path went higher than the summit,
And she is one with the gods today.

https://pluckingmyself.blogspot.com/2010/08/quill-27-mountain-song-1991.html