Touched by loss. Empowered through community.

The Blur

Date: 
Monday, April 2, 2018
Posted By: 
Kris

The Blur

 

This week’s to-do list:

Plan the memorial service, Order flowers, Talk to the cemetery, Arrange luncheon

As I move through the tasks above, due to the recent passing of my Mom, they are all unfamiliar to me. I don’t recognize having done any of them when my husband passed. They happened, I know they did, because it all came together and he had as good a send off as anyone could.  But, looking back to six years ago, I’ll be honest and say that I have no idea how that planning got done, nor who did it. You see, it was all a blur.

The blur, is hard to explain.  Perhaps it’s different for everyone, or sadly, perhaps it’s not. For me, it felt like a fog, or like I was some kind of walking zombie. I could perform manual repetitious tasks, but I had no real concept of what I was doing. I was present, I was where I was expected to be, but the entirety of my thoughts were adrift at sea, longing for what I’d lost.  Whenever someone would try to talk to me, I felt like I was just waking up, every time. I forgot things, a lot. Thank goodness nice family and friends brought dinner, because I didn’t do much of that either. From what I can recall, the blur lasted many months after my husband passed.   

I felt the blur again, when my Mom just passed. When my siblings and I left the hospital, I got in my car to drive home and turned on the road towards the house I haven’t lived in for almost a year. The blur was back. The blur steals your appetite, and your sleep.  It is dark, it is sad, it is numbing, and now it is deja vue. When it came over me, I remember thinking, no, no, not this feeling, I hate this feeling!  But, it came anyway. Losing my Mom, I’ve lost another person who truly defined my being. I tried to see or talk to my Mom every day. She was the last living parental figure for our family of nine. Without her, it feels like we have lost our last compass.   

Mom was about a month shy of 91. She lived two lifetimes in comparison to my husband.  She courageously fought cancer three times, and won. She was an inspiration romantically, happy to go another two rounds of marriage after my Dad passed, only to find herself outliving those husbands as well.  She kept her smile, her laugh and her witty sense of humor all the way to the end of her life journey.  She was fortunate not to have lost those in this world before she left, as many do. She appreciated companionship above all else, putting people on pedestals, not things.  In the end, it’s the people that surround us that make the difference anyway.

 

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