The Realities of Grief

The realities of my grief have been as opposite as the east to the west. 

In one moment you can have clear blue, sunny, happy skies over to the West hovering over the islands and to the East, the darkest, meanest black skies coming down in vertical stripes as the clouds open flood gates across the mountains. There is an actual line drawn in the weather pattern that separates the two skies. 

Grief is, and can be, as tumultuous as the stormy skies or as hopeful as a clear blue sunset to the West. 

Because many have asked how my family and I are doing, I thought I'd let you into my world for a brief moment and tell you what the past three months have looked like for us. 

In one word, I'd say it's been 

HARD.

The first month after Traci passed was busy making sure the services were handled per her requests, getting her apartment cleared out, managing final accounts and trying to prepare for our pre-planned family trip. The second month was all about finding a routine once again and making it through a day in one piece. We now passed the three month marker since she left this earth and I find some days harder then those in the beginning. Suffocating really.
Finding the motivation to do anything more then meeting everyone's basic needs was, and still can be, an exhausting task. Some days I find myself walking in circles not knowing what to do. Other days my one task is getting to the gym for class so I can at least keep moving. 

There is an unsaid expectation that the first year after someone passes is the hardest simply because of all the firsts you have to emotionally manage. That can't be more true.

April 30th, Traci would have celebrated her 38th birthday. The entire weekend felt heavy, burdened and caught me off guard in many ways. I found myself wrestling with moments of extreme sadness coupled with components of undeniable joy and peace. I'm so thankful for my stable husband who has been my rock because honestly folks, I seem a bit bipolar these days with my happy/sad tears. 

The day started with church. What a mess I was. We've started this new sermon series about Heaven. You'd think it was a funny joke, but it's not and probably is good timing once I can get past the topic word Heaven. My third row family are familiar with my tears as they usually start during worship. I'm easily moved these days and tissues go with me wherever I go. That particular Sunday I was deeply touched by Pastor Kurt's words and was wrecked all service long. 

We packed up our tribe and went to visit Auntie's resting place on our way to my parents place. Myriam and Addison drew some pictures which we secured in Ziploc bags and placed by her spot under the maple tree. Charlie's flower still stood tall and bright in it's cheerful teal vase.  Myriam insisted on singing 'Happy Birthday' which she did beautifully. 

It was a moment of pause, reflection, remembrance and utter grief that I could not put my arms around her to wish her the best damn birthday a girl could have. 

As perfect timing would have it, Jason and his family along with Melissa and Mickey showed up as we were about to leave. A party in a cemetery. This should not be.

That afternoon I took the girls shopping as Auntie so loved to do, grabbed coffee drinks which she spoiled us with often and played by the Marina as the sun beat down our backs. We then surrounded Papa and Nana with a family dinner and just being with each other. Myriam once again insisted we celebrate with cake which she and Papa picked out together.
"I'm getting a birthday cake for my Auntie!" she cheerfully explained to the cashier at Haggen's.
Friends in Portland took to Traci's favorite hiking spots and the Pink's remembered her on the water.

The first birthday was met with complete honesty in our emotions. 

HARD.

 { New birthday traditions; do things Auntie loved to do. }

Some of the other realities of grief I've experienced was exposed at the dentist office. 

Clenching. 

Yep. That explains the jaw pain, ear pain and fatigued mornings when I wake up. Now that I'm aware of it, I've been catching myself lock down and hopefully, not causing permanent damage. I fight back tears clenching my jaw. I fall asleep to images of the last few hours and minutes bearing down on my jaw. I drive tense and feel the knots form all over my body from sore muscles. 

I have no shame telling you I probably have, as do others, PTSD from being with my sister in her final fight. 

I hate being sad. It's not like me. My Cheer Doterra oils are not doing their job well. I started taking St. John's Wart as an herbal anti-depressant. I have no shame and will tell you I think after a month of popping Mr. John's I can feel a difference. 

I drove my sisters car and smelled the steering wheel in attempts to gain one last scent of her presence. Her sunglasses stared at me from the dash. Hanging from her rear view mirror a necklace with the words: 

HOPE FAITH LOVE

Grief is hard on kids. 

This month marks a year since my Grandma Van Dyken passed away. Our kids were very close to Gigi and were present up to the day she passed visiting her, kissing her and telling her they loved her. Addi and I sat with Aunt Betty after she passed and watched hospice gently wash Grandma with lavender before they took her body. 

We made the conscience decision to fly Charlie down to be with Auntie those last few hours. Addison spent Auntie's last week here with us, and with Nana, in Portland, playing card games, taking naps together and just being in each others presence. Charlie witnessed his Auntie march into Heaven. Our kids were present in her passing and we don't regret having them there, but it does affect them. There are high highs and low lows. Random temperaments, anger outbursts, lying, tears listening to worship songs and on the other side beaming smiles remembering a funny moment together. Auntie's paddling medals hang directly above Charlie's pillow. Some of her blankets continue to tuck us in at night as we climb in bed. 

I find that I get angry when the kids snip at each other in a flash of jealousy and longing to be able to have that still with my sister. A few times I have reminded them that you never know when your sibling will leave this earth so appreciate and use wisely the time you have with them. 

Cleaning our rooms we'll all come across something that was gifted to us by our spoiling Auntie and instantly be brought back to that celebration, or for what ever reason why, she blessed us with a card, a toy or simple note to say she loved us. 

Grief is present as it faces you daily.

When Mom went to buy her summer patio flowers there was no choice in the color; pink. A few weeks ago we planted the dogwood tree purchased in memory of my sister and I stood watching from the living room with tears and anger thinking how no little sister should have to go on without her big sister or worse yet, remember her with a tree. There are many tokens of pink in our yard that will only grow to bigger sizes as a memory, reminder and sweet scent of my big sister.
When Mom plays on Sunday's it's a given the box of tissues will be used. Dad looks at the clock every night at 5:15pm expecting his daughter to call and let him know about her day. The door to Traci's bedroom at home stays shut; the bed with new bedding and position not being used.
There is an almost unsaid identity crisis as my parents for ten years were Mom and Dad plus doctor and nurse. Thursday's are for driving to Portland; Friday's for treatment;
Saturday's for cleaning and driving back home.
HARD.

There are moments where I have guilt for not thinking about Traci and then moments I long to not have her death consume me as it seems all that passes my thoughts are about my sister. Her computer sits under my prayer chair as I still need to deal with it and all her journals are in the bag off to the side of my safe place. I catch myself sending her text messages, dialing to Face Time or talk on the phone. I hear the word Portland and think to myself, "I should plan a trip to visit...."
Accepting the reality is part of this grief process.
There are no more phone calls, Face Time laughter's and kisses from the kids or sleep overs at Auntie's place in the summer to splash in her pool.
There was a page in her story that wrote:
The End.

On our way home a couple weekends ago, we saw grief displayed in the most beautiful way. Out to the East, the rain was falling vertically, the sun rays from a small white patch of clouds were attempting to break through at a diagonal while the clouds were horizontal and in one area twirling in a spinning motion. 

And yet, when you looked closer in the depressing skies you saw a beautiful rainbow from the couple of rays that were trying to press through the weather pattern. 

It was a circle of color that reminded us that there is hope through the grief and despair.
Broken but hopeful.
We'll all get there eventually, but for now time is our gift in this process because no one needs to rush it and we all process at a different pace. The hole in our hearts both here and in Portland are wide open and we continue to thank you for the prayers as we heal, move forward and remember our sweet sister, daughter and amazing friend.