Grief, for me, is a wee hours thing
February 15th, 2012
Grief, for me, is a wee hours thing.
I wake, disturbed, and see the hour on my bedside clock glowing 4 or 5.
My heart is heavy, with thoughts of Rachel or her beloved Anthony. Once again, I feel the troubling dissonance between pink bows and teddy bears and the disfigurement and death that is the reality of this disease.
I feel pain at her loss, bewildered by my lack of space for grief. On the surface my life moves forward, but I know inside my friend is gone.
Mourning, for me, is done best in the comforting receptive presence of others. I have had to search for that.
Life online is good for building community and making friends.
But it is overfull with voices, noise, and words.
My loss is an absence in my virtual world but online life is a place that offers me little comfort or healing.
The greatest comfort has been my blog, which has given me the chance to speak my grief. The comments I have received feel the closest to comforting receptiveness.
Thank you for that. It means a lot.
This entry was posted on Wednesday, February 15th, 2012 at 6:19 am and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.
I’m sorry you feel so alone. I understand. I think many of us awaken during the wee hours, I know I often do. Those are often the loneliest and most fearful times. I agree with you about the lack of space in the on-line world, as well as the ‘real world,’ for grief. That’s one reason I specifically wanted to include grief as a topic for my blog when I started it. All grieving is tough and it’s still such a neglected subject. Losing Rachel was a stunning blow that’s going to hurt for a long time and we will always miss her. You might feel all alone, Lani, but you’re not. Keep blogging and sharing your pain if that helps. Hugs to you.
I was up yesterday at 4 am., too. What kept me from sinking: the dog. She is an ever-present reminder to get up, and do what I can.
But the grief is there.
xxoo
What a thoughtful and thought provoking post. The wee hours are a time I also struggle with – when worries blossom, fears grow and thoughts break through their boundaries of rationality. You also highlight this whole area of how ill equipped we are to deal with the depth of emotion emanating from online friendships, and the lack of protocols in this new virtual landscape. All I can do is send you love and hold you in my thoughts as we process what has happened.
P xoxox
I know what you mean. I find Twitter too busy and just not for grief, overfull, as you say. And this last week has been busy for so many of us around Rachel. So I think the time for grief is now, now the initial shock is passing, and one of the places for it is in here.
I’ve been really grateful this past week, alone as it’s mostly been, to have Sarah’s blog space to borrow and to mourn in. Even as a stand in I’ve loved and needed the connections it’s made for me with you and others. I am deeply grateful. xx
Lani,
Often I find myself reading your blog as an “interloper” a word you reminded me of one time last year, in jest. I refrain from commentary because I don’t really know what you are going through and I don’t want to sound trite. I try to understand because I love Adam and you and your beautiful children. Last week I read your post about Susan Niebur and her fight with inflammatory breast cancer. I read her last blog post and sadly her husbands final post. I was moved beyond tears because here is all this love around a beautiful family, fighting, struggling to stay alive and this insidious disease looms, lingers and eventually destroys. The “whymommy” “whydaddy” thing really touched me and I thought of you, with all your responsibilities and personal concerns to have that enduring patience a modern mom must have for the 10,000 “why mommy” moments in you life. I know you have a support system in place. A virtual community which is a great source of information. So, I imagine in the wee and private hours, the sadness you must feel for your lost friends and families. It is not lost on the no comment-er.
I think of you often and fondly.
I lost my dad then 2 siblings before I was 29…and I am the oldest. Being the oldest, there was no time for grief because I was the one everyone depended on. The only time and place where I could be with my grief was alone in the dark. Having now lost the person who completed me, the grief is so much more profound that if I don’t keep moving, it could consume me. So, the time that scares me the most is night…quiet time…when there is no one else around. During my work day, I can’t really express or deal with my grief, so again it comes at night. Sleep comes hard…and doesn’t last long. I too, wake and agonize…or cry… from dreams that I have no defense against. Rachel now becomes part of my nighttime… Keeping track of her progress, we could see where the road was leading, but there is no preparation that can be done in advance. True for so many of us, Rachel could light me up and hold off the darkness a little longer. My wonderful friends in the Twitter World have sustained me over the last 2 years, but the Twitter circle we travel in, leaves us very vulnerable to more loss. I have now lost 4 very good virtual friends. But I have to tell you, I would not trade one of those friends for peaceful sleep. My love to you Lani. You help keep the darkness away too. Thank you.
I’m sorry you’re hurting, Lani.
Wrapping my arms around you, Lani. And sending you love and support….. xoxox
Lani,
I know what you mean. I’ve been having trouble sleeping and feel overwhelmed by cyberspace sometimes. Yet, I feel these online friends are so tangible.
It’s been a rough time lately. I’m so glad you have your blog and comments to help you.
I’m glad you can get all of this out in your blog. I hope you catch up on your sleep. xx
Hugs to you. I more or less know what you’re going through. I am fighting breast cancer right now. A very tough fight. I’m glad your blog helps. I just started one. Here’s a link: http://twitterissoweird.blogspot.com
Blogging is the biggest comfort, isn’t it? I wake up each morning to see what my fellow bloggers may be saying so I don’t miss anything. Their comments are always supportive, comforting and encouraging. XX
I just got to read your posting now. I know how you are feeling. Sending cyberhugs.