Waves

It comes in waves, this grief thing.  One minute I'm fine and the next minute, I'm swimming (sometimes drowning) in an ocean of sadness.  Unlike real waves though, grief waves are invisible and unpredictable; there is no regular ebb and flow, just seemingly random tidal waves that knock you over in the midst of everyday life.   

Ah... but there are triggers, and part of the learning curve to the whole grief process is realizing what your triggers are, and learning how to appropriately interact with them.  Last night, Jay and I were out doing some Christmas shopping, trying really hard to feel "in the holiday spirit".  There's nothing jolly or festive about grief, even though it is coinciding with Christmas.  Grief just dims everything.  But there we were, out co-mingling with the masses in the madness of a shopping center.  I had tucked my grief away for the day; I folded it up and put it in my pocket.  I traded it in for my best "happy face" and went out in search of joy and holiday cheer, via consumerism.  I have to say, it kind of worked.  Not that I felt jolly by any means, but it was pretty fun to walk around and make fun of all the crap that people waste their money on.  And it was fun to join them and buy some crap for Christmas.  I do every other year, so I might as well this year, too.  It helps to feel normal, in any way you can, in the midst of upheaval. 

In between stores we stopped at a Five Guys for a quick burger.  It was delicious, and was really hittin' the spot... until it hit the spot: the grief spot.  You see, the last meal I shared with my Dad was Five Guys.  It was one week before his death, and in retrospect, it was the first day of his final decline.  There was a lot that he couldn't do that day, but when I asked him if he wanted a cheeseburger from Five Guys, he said (in a way that only my family can appreciate), "Yah", and so I went out and got us all burgers.  We sat around the kitchen table (dad in his wheelchair) and ate Five Guys Burgers and Fries.  That was the last meal I had with him...  And so there I was at Five Guys, during the holidays, amongst happy shoppers when all of a sudden a tidal wave came and knocked me over.  Tidal waves are dangerous enough as it is, but even more so when eating a cheeseburger.  Talk about a choking hazard. 

Then today, as I was cleaning up the huge pile of clothes that are permanently parked at the foot of my bed, I found the dress I wore to his funeral.  Ouch.  Another wave.  What am I supposed to do with this dress?  Do I hang it in the closet with all of my non-funeral clothes and pretend that it's just a regular dress?  Do I fold it up and put it in storage?  Do I burn it?  

So- now I know; Five Guys and that dress are triggers for me.  Maybe they won't always be, but for now, when everything is recent and feels so raw, they are.  Now the question is, what do I do about that?  Do I avoid that place and hide that dress?  Do I do the opposite and go to Five Guys weekly, and incorporate the dress into my regular winter wardrobe?  How do I interact with these tangible reminders that my dad actually died.  It feels wrong to ignore them, like ignoring them means that I'm ignoring the truth of what happened.  It's tempting; ignorance is bliss, after all.  But ignorance is still ignorance, and the truth is still the truth, and and no matter how much I want to fold up my grief and fold up my dress and eat a cheeseburger without thinking about death, I'm simply not there yet.  

The truth is that my dad died (even typing that hurts), and we ate cheeseburgers on his deathbed, and I wore a black nondescript dress to his funeral.  Sure, I can take away the things that remind me of the awful reality of his death, but taking them away will not bring him back.  Similarly, I can eat Five Guys while wearing that dress every single day and it won't change a thing.  If anything, I would have a heart-attack from too many cheeseburgers, and well, that's just sad.  

And as for tidal waves and triggers, they are messy at times and don't always present themselves at convenient times, but I'm learning that they are a necessary part of the grieving process.  So I think I'm going to embrace my triggers when they come -- not totally avoid them, nor immerse myself in them -- and let the waves wash over me.  Dad always taught me to respect the ocean and not to fight the waves but to go with them.  He also taught me that no matter how bad I got slammed by a wave, I should always get up and get back out there.  So that's what I'm gonna do... one day at a time.