More Baby Steps...

Today, they had the annual "drop off" unused narcotics day at our local police station. And I still had some Fentanyl patches in the cupboard.  So I took them to the police station and dropped them off. And got back into the car and broke down in tears....

And another thing, been going on, is our cordless phone is "dying" -- and I've not changed the "greeting" message at all since Bob died.

A little backstory -- our former cordless phone "died" after Bob's stroke. It still had the "greeting" with Bob's voice sounding perfectly normal and when the phone died, we went and bought a new one and I thought, jeepers, I'll have to record the "greeting" and then, had a "brilliant" idea, because Bob was still here and maybe he could record a greeting.

So I worked a simple script for him. And of course, with his aphasia, he kept screwing it up. So I finally thought, okay, we can do one of those "cute couple's" messages, you know the ones, where two are talking saying "Hi, this is Diane and" and the other says "Bob" and figured all he needed to remember was his name and after I say "leave a message", he was supposed to say "Bye" at the end.

We tried this, I don't know, 16-20 times, and he kept screwing up, to the point we were both laughing so hard, then finally when re-recording he got the"Bob" part right! Yay! --  but when it was time to say "Bye" he said "Diane" instead and I started laughing, he was laughing then silent and finally said Bye bye -- and when I played it back Bob said "That's funny!" so I kept it plus I was tired... and I figured there was time to retry again.. but we never did.

And after he died I just kept that last "greeting" on our answering machine... Bob and me, laughing.... jeepers. The good old, bad old times... and I couldn't bare to erase it.

Some people have told me "never change it!" and that it's beautiful and makes them laugh but others have told me "it's morbid" as he's dead, and then others (like my pool cleaning service) were surprised and confused, thinking Bob was still here....

So I guess, it's time to change the greeting... jeepers will be 3 years next month... But I still didn't want erase that old message, felt so much erasing another part of Bob...

And as the phone has been acting up, ready to die -- I went from the police station dropped off the patches then, in tears, drove to Best Buy, and got a new cordless phone, because I don't want to lose that 'greeting' message, figuring if I "save" the phone it before it dies, I will always have that recording to listen to and maybe can get that recording transferred to a flash drive or something.

Today, I experimented using my TracPhone to call our number and my camera to record the greeting message:    Here it is: hope you can hear it! Click to enlarge if you can't hear it... and to those of you who are used to calling me, there will probably be a bland automated greeting, soon...  but know you got the right number...

Mourning

"Mourning" I like that word, better than "grieving". Softer word, I don't why people don't use it anymore. The Victorians had it right, a whole protocol on "mourning" which involved black draped windows and mirrors and a black wreath at the door, so everyone would know a tragedy had occurred -- then there was the dress "code".

Proper mourning periods in the Victorian period were as follows:

Death of husband: 30 months

Death of parent: 24 months

Death of grandparent: 9 months

Death of child: 9 months

Death of sibling: 6 months

Death of aunt/uncle: 3 months

Death of wife: 3 months

Okay, the last one sucks and is sexist... I admit!

"Deep mourning" was the first year after a husband died. Victorian widows in "deep mourning" wore black crepe dresses without trimmings. Plain black crepe veils were worn covering their faces. The veils were worn with wider hems at the beginning of the deep mourning period. Crepe, in it's finest form, is a very fragile material, tends to shred, tear easily and also black crepe will turn brown after much wear. This tattered, brown appearance lead to the phrase "widow's weeds".

After a year, the widow could discard crepe as a fabric, but still dressed in all black be it silk or satin or serge. But black, unbroken by any color. She would not wear jewels or any embellishment considered too frivolous.

After 18 months, the widow entered "half mourning" which meant she could wear black dresses trimmed with black ribbons or black lace, as well as white cuffs or a white collar. Other suitable trimmings included black embroidery, bands of black velvet, jet or black beads -- but these must be "dull" in color.

It was not suitable for a widow to go out socially during "deep mourning".

Okay, you all are wondering why am I writing this --- those who know me well, know that I have always loved the Victorian era and wrote and published a book on Victorian fashion, which I started collecting in my teenage years and am considered somewhat of an "expert" on...

But also, I am writing this because the Victorians had it right in many ways (except the widower thing, ha!). By wearing mourning dress, people actually understood what the person was going through and treated that person with respect, gentleness and care. No one would dare say such things as "get over it", "go on with your life",  etc. etc.

And I do wish we had some such signal today. Just to let people know that I am in "mourning", so please be gentle and kind.

"Mourning" went out of fashion during WWI, when the president asked the nation to stop the custom as it made for "too gloomy of a home front" for returning soldiers.

Another word I love is "melancholy" so much better than "sad" or "down" or "depressed". One of my all time favorite poems, by Tennyson is this untitled sonnet:

Check every out flash, every rudder sally

Of thought and speech; speak low and give up wholly

Thy spirit to mild-minded melancholy:

This is the place. Through yonder polar valley

Below the blue-green river windeth slowly;

But in the middle of the somber valley

The crisped waters whisper musically,

And all the haunted place is dark and holy

The nightingale, with long and low preamble,

Warbled from yonder knoll of solemn larches

And in and out the woodbine's flowery arches

The summer midges wove their wanton gambol

And all the white stemmed pinewood slept above

When in this place, first, I told my love.

I just wish more people understood. I am in mourning and sometimes give up wholly to mild-minded melancholy. It's a totally normal reaction to what I've been though.

And thank you Vindi Vin for the link you left in your comment, which finally explained a question I just asked my therapist last week (she couldn't answer it): what is the difference between "pain" and "suffering"? and that article said "Pain + Resistance = Suffering".

Makes sense to me. In other words, you need to "feel it to heal it". So -- excuse me if I linger a bit in my mourning process.

Wish black crepe and black veils were still in fashion....

Widow's Brain and other Grief Symptoms

Yes, I'm going to write about grief, because it seems no one wants to talk about it. Our society seems to think of grief as something that can be "fixed" or "gotten over" in a short period of time, but I tell you, I still suffer.

Symptoms like "Widow's Brain" -- an inability to concentrate, forgetfulness, disorientation. I can't count the number of times I've left the house to walk dog, only to find on returning, that I pocketed my car key instead of the house key and locked myself out of the house. (Now I keep a spare key hidden outside.) I still often can't remember what day it is, or month, and have to actually look up the date on the computer. The other day, I took the dog for a walk and on returning home noticed I was wearing two different shoes!  And if that wasn't bad enough, one was a grey sneaker and the other a brown slipper, and add to that I was wearing the "right" slipper on my left foot. Yeah, I wondered why my feet hurt while walking, and thought it was because my shoes were getting old.

I still cry.

I still scream at the walls.

I still have difficulty sleeping. Difficulty driving. Anxiety attacks.

I still wear our wedding rings.

I still feel like I'm living in a dream.

People say I should be "over it", and "let it go", and offer all sorts of well intentioned advice such as "volunteer" or "take a trip", join a club, etc. But when you are grieving it's not about "fixing" something, it's not about avoiding your feelings by staying busy or helping others, because death cannot be "fixed" and feelings pushed aside have ways of coming out. As someone once said, "you have to feel it in order to heal it."

Grief is a journey. A journey of the heart. A heart that has been broken into a million pieces. And, truth be told, it sucks.

Everyone deals with it in their own way.

This is my way. I own it.

That doesn't mean I like it. It means I am dealing with it in my own way. And I am doing the things I feel are right for me.

Seeing a therapist.

Swimming daily 120 laps. (OK, I admit my pool is small.)

Getting out of bed in the morning, even when I don't want to.

Writing my memoir.

Meeting up, occasionally, with friends for lunch or going to a play or movie.

These things take strength. Some days I have more strength then others. Some days, I do not cry. Some nights, I sleep better.

I am reading a book suggested to me by my therapist. It's called It's OK That You're Not OK:  Meeting grief and loss in a culture that doesn't understand by Megan Devine. I'm glad my therapist suggested it, because now I don't feel like I'm going crazy. Or that I'm "taking too long". Or that something is wrong with me. I'm just still grieving. I lost the love of my life. Grief is a normal reaction a loss that huge, and it's okay to talk about it and write about it.

And this journey is going to take some time.

I miss him, every single day.

And that's OK.



PS: Kona back to her usual nutty self! Such a relief...