Mary in the Past Tense

It never occurred to me that there would be parameters and timing in which it is appropriate to seek a type of support group for working through this tremendous journey called "grief". Yet, alas, there are and it proves to be a veritable Plinko game ala the Price is Right as to what bracket you fall into.  Being "a freshie" (newly bereaved) might bump you one way, being too young might bump you another. You'd think with the "diversity" of our loss -- losing Mom and Craig -- I could easily find a group whether it was a parent-loss, a motherless daughters, a brotherless sisters, or a 20/30 something parent-loss group to join.

This is, indeed, a precarious time in our lives defined best by a mood -- a state as fickle as the weather. There are the panic attacks that whip out of nowhere like a straight line wind; the sulky blues that hang around like an overcast day; and the days of joy when the sun is quick on the heels. Try as you might, you can't force the 'weather' to turn or predict how long it will last. All you can do is ride it out. The passing of Mom and Craig doesn't heal in two weeks. It won't heal in a few months, long after folks have returned to their lives and the swell of support has faded. And, it still won't be "normal" a year after. It will be a long hard road toward reconciling the loss and establishing a new, acceptable, but still painfully different ‘normal'.

In an effort to stay proactive in this grieving process and not sit on the sidelines expecting it to get easier on its own, I've looked on-line, called centers, even had contacts provided to me to join a group but came up wanting at every turn. Groups had already started or will not begin until March, if at all. I held hope, however, for a group organized for motherless daughters for women who lost their moms in their 20s or 30s. For months, I checked a website for information as to the date/time/location when they would meet. I finally contacted the lead for this group only to find -- wait for it -- it had already met! Yes, being uncommunicative with the grieving is a considerate route to take, me thinks, with things being so easy breezy carefree, as they are.

This was strike three in the round of support groups, which is contrary to the promises of hospice support groups when the time came for grieving. Maybe it's a secret club where you "knock three times on the ceiling...or twice on the pipe" to get in. As with other discoveries in this process, support isn't easy to find nor is it available once found. Yet, Lawlers can always find the funny and we had a good laugh at the prospect of crashing AA or gambler's anonymous, instead. Sure, the topic change would no doubt be startling when it was my turn, but at least I'd have a group. Or, we could always adjust context to fit the audience, like change "grieving" to "gambling", for instance. "I've been having a hard time with the ‘gambling' process. I've been thinking of when my Mom would take me to the -- pregnant pause -- ‘casino' and we'd play, uh, ‘roulette'. Man I miss that." Or Diane's addition, "Anyone have a share? Erin?" "Yes, I miss craps. I miss craps every minute of every day. Nothing will fill the void in my life like craps did." These are the jokes...

Life buzzes around and we do a pretty remarkable job keeping up, by all accounts. Losing one loved one is more than enough to push one on their haunches in a corner somewhere. Yet, we have two, nearly simultaneous losses to process. Right when I'm grieving one, there's a switchback and I'm grieving the other. Then another turn. There's no "easy button" for getting through this, yet I'm trying very hard to expand my universe, keep perspective, and be proactive as much as I can. I establish daily goals, self-celebrate the "wins", take myself out. But, as much as I try, there are some realms I cannot influence and just have to accept, despite the disappointment. It would be nice if the universe would align, as Babs Streisand might remark. I'd go further and add that it would be nice if that part of the universe which has it a bit easy could man up and do small things to make it a bit easier for the other part of the universe that has it a bit rough.

So, back to the support network, ever persistent, I contacted a woman who leads the motherless daughters group, as well as a parent-loss group. I quickly realized the importance of parameters when she explained to me the differences in scope and focus. Women in the motherless daughters group had lost their mothers years sometimes decades ago, at a minimum. Focus for this group was understanding how such a loss impacts every future life stage, be it marriage, childbirth, or any other milestone. Losing your mom when you're young isn't the same as losing her when you're 55 and are established/grounded in your own family. It's far different when all the major milestones still lie before you unexposed, instead of neatly wrapped in pleasant memories. Once they were hidden gems waiting for discovery, now it seems like those milestones -- falling in love, getting married, having a child -- are blissful landmines. As happy as they are, they rip open the wound again and again when considering that she will never be there to share in the experience. I saw the pain and loss in Mom when she remembered her own mother, who passed away before Mom was married, had children, etc. The same milestones were left unshared with her mother. How the wheels turn to repeat the path. (The same is true for sharing milestones with Craig.) These women are still understanding how dramatic their life stages have shifted and how they are impacted by the loss of their moms. My sisters and I are now part of that contingency, but not quite yet.

The parent-loss group is for the "freshies" like me and my family -- those in their first year of bereavement. Day to day feedback from the masses would suggest we should be well-seasoned in this thing called grief. Whether it's an accurate perception or not, it feels as though patience for grieving has a two-week window and then the expectation to don the body-glove of normalcy begins. Her describing my family's experience as still fresh and new validates all the internal feelings of "holy crap, what the hell just happened here." The parent-loss group isn't just for women or just for the young, but it is just for those who've experienced loss recently and are picking up the pieces of a fractured life.

She asked a few questions for intake into this group. As prepared as I was for the moment of question, I didn't expect to be thrown by the simple, unadorned questions she asked. There weren't many questions and, seven months ago, I wouldn't have even remembered what was asked. But context changes everything...

"What was your Mom's name?"

There it was. Mary in the past tense.

It broke my heart beyond description. "How old was your mom when she passed? What did she die from? When was she diagnosed?" And then, "what was your brother's name?"

Craig in the past tense.

"How old was your brother? What did he die from? When was he diagnosed?" 

It's interesting how the mind weeds out this noise when it lacks context, and you pay little attention to questions like "what is your mother's or brother's name"? But the moment it becomes relevant and all you have left is the past, such a simple question can knock you off-kilter, and you're hit again by that straight-line wind.

~E