Today is the 4-month anniversary of Tim’s death. I miss him every single day.
Having said that, the last two weeks have been somewhat better. Not great, but better. We had grandkid sleepovers, I went shopping with a friend – 3 days in a row, Jim and I took a spontaneous trip to COSTCO, I did some more baking, until…I hit the proverbial wall.
I know I’m not alone in grief. Far too many friends, and friends/relatives of friends have died since Tim’s own death. Another one, and another one…sudden, tragic, death, leaving its mark on those left behind. Communal grief is that bond we never wanted yet need.
As futile as it may be, I am resisting a Christmas without my son. I do not want to look back at pictures of Christmas 2022 and not have our Timmy in any of the pictures. His last Christmas will forever be 2021. Sadly there is no stopping time from moving on.
I’ve made the decision not to decorate the inside of our house. No tree, no village, no cute little ornaments. I could change my mind tomorrow, but for today, decorating is a hard no. A good friend came over and did some outdoor decorating. It looks cheery, but for now that good cheer can just stay outside.
After Tim’s diagnosis in January 2020, I’d often (too often according to Tim) ask him how he was doing. “How’s the cancer?” The answer I wanted was “better” or “gone”. There were ups and downs but the “better” and certainly the “gone” never happened. I suspect that when friends now ask any of us, those in Tim’s family, how we are, they are hoping for “better“ in our response. Friends, I feel your disappointment when so often the answer is “the same” or “really, really sad”.
Thanks for asking anyhow.
Acknowledging what I’m learning continues to be a useful practice. So far I’ve learned or relearned:
- Grief is predictably unpredictable
- Grief is exhausting
- I need my friends
- I need lots of alone time
- I have a limitless amount of tears
- My daughter, Courtney is stronger and more caring than I could ever have imagined
- My son Landon holds his grief and sorrow close to his heart
- My heart breaks for my kids and grandkids
- Jim gets tired too
- Walks, even short ones, are helpful
- Blogging helps release some of the stress that comes alongside the grief
- Having a counselling degree doesn’t mean I can counsel me
Note: I intended to apologize if reading my blog posts leaves you feeling uncomfortable. My wise daughter said I don’t have to. This is my story, my experience and it’s not meant to harm you. It’s about me. And Tim would no doubt interject an, “isn’t it always?” right about here.
Tim and his brother Landon getting Christmas dinner ready. Jim and I were still living at the coast,
Landon, Brit and Luka had moved into their own house and Tim was living in our house while he was going to UBCO. They prepared us a tasty meal.
Until next time,
Love, Carol
Better is Possible 