June Days

 

I'm dreading Father's day as much as I dreaded Mother's day. Another awful reminder of Andrew not being here. I'm dreading it for Ray and for me and Nadia. This whole month so far has been hard. I feel this darkness, this hopelessness, this sadness and pain. The pain had sort of receded or maybe I was just relieved at getting through May. Either way the pain was just there one morning. And now I feel like I'm carrying a gray fog inside and out. Receding at times, closer at times.

 I'm trudging along, head down. I tell myself to look up. The birds are a diversion. They seem free or at least wild; not bound to the hard world, to gravity. And the perspective of above. I've always wanted to fly just to see the world from slightly above. 

Climbing mountains helps with a larger perspective. Last year, I failed to climb one. It was six weeks after Andrew passed. Physically, I could have done it albeit slower than the group but mentally, emotionally; I was exhausted, tearful, hopeless. I was carrying this new, heavy grief up the mountain too. 

I'm reading a book called Endure. Its about the mental and physical components of endurance. Endure talks about some athletes having a greater capacity to endure pain. A greater mental mindset about pain. It's some of what allows them to do athletic feats.

Yes, it's one way to see this grief and loss. I'll always have it. My capacity to endure, to work with constant pain has increased. Another perspective which comforts me about this pain is the mothers of all the soldiers in all the wars. Often, they lost their sons earlier; in their lives and their sons lives. They endured war, loss. I like to think they were strengthened by enduring their pain to live fully, bravely. It's idealistic and not entirely possible all the time, for everyone. But I've seen, heard and believe it through my clients, through stories. Its a direction to go. 

So, okay, I can endure more. Which means I can live the best and happiest that I can with the rest of my life. I've always felt this obligation, this urgency to live; to not waste this time I've been given. I so wished and tried to give that to both my children. But it just sounds so trite to say it. Like one of those cliches everyone agrees with but doesn't have much meaning in daily life.

 I really think Andrew and my Mom and Dad, in fact, everyone whose passed over, wants me, all of us, to not waste whats left of our lives. Be happy. Be happy to honor them. I believe I'll want that for the people I leave behind as well. It's like that sappy moment which I love in the film Titanic. Where the lead actress dies and walks down the stairs to the applause of everyone who has passed before. I want that. 

Having said that, I've treated chronic pain before. Life has its ups and downs and if you're already coping with a down day, a bad day is made worse by pain. What's working now that the pain is stronger is seeing my life as one day at a time. I can try harder to have a good day today. That's all. Which also works with the pandemic and the uncertainty of the future. 

I'm hoping for a good day today and yes, I'm hoping Father's Day isn't too horrible. Keeping my expectations low around these events has definitely helped. In today's version of "what I've learned" is I'm learning how to endure more pain and know I still have the possibility of having a good day.  When I look back and it's been okay, had good moments... I'm more glad, more grateful for that.