tapmyshoulder

Well, it happened again today. “It” comes over you at the most random times. It’s not always a convenient time, it’s not always in the privacy of your home and it’s not always explainable. What is “it”? Grief. That moment when you really feel that hole in your life that has been created by losing that special person. And this afternoon, “it” happened at Central Maine Medical Center in Lewiston, Maine.

On our way home this afternoon, Mark and I stopped to visit a very dear lady who has played such a huge role in my life. She was in the same section of the hospital as my mom was when she was recovering from heart surgery. Back in 2008, Naomi, Sarah and I were waiting for my mom to come out of bypass surgery. While we waited in the family waiting room, Naomi found a small booklet that explained the history of the hospital. My sister loved doing dramatic readings for our entertainment purposes. On that day, 9 years ago, she had Sarah and I crying from laughing. Apparently, Naomi thought the history of the hospital was a wee bit too dry so she added a little drama to the story so it soon resembled a Harlequin Romance novel. (We were actually laughing and crying so hard that the volunteer at the desk called for a chaplain to come check on us to make sure we weren’t having a nervous breakdown from the stress of waiting for news of our mom’s surgery!) Only Naomi could turn a stressful situation into a time of laughing and just enjoying each other’s company.

Today, when I stepped off the elevator into that same waiting area that the three of us spent so much time in nine years ago, I was taken right back to that day. I told Mark that it was almost as if I had opened the door and saw Naomi, Sarah and myself sitting right there in that sunny waiting room, laughing and begging Naomi to stop because Sarah and my stomach hurt from laughing. And then “it” happened. I stopped, looked at the chairs where we were sitting just a few years ago and started to cry. And poor Mark had no idea what was going on. It took me a moment to gather myself and tell him what I was feeling.

Now the reason that I write this is not to get sympathy. I write so others understand and have compassion and patience for those who have lost a very important person in their lives. So many of our friends and loved ones are just starting their Journey of Grief. There are so many things I want to tell them as they take their first baby steps in this lifelong voyage.

• You are not going crazy! The week after my sister’s passing, I stood in the bathroom with the plug of my hair dryer, staring at the light switch wondering how I was supposed to get this plug to fit into the light switch! Please be patient with yourself. Give yourself permission to realize that your brain has suffered a shock and you are adjusting. You are going to do really strange and random things. You will feel as though you have forgotten almost everything you have learned. Be gentle on yourself. You are not going crazy!
• Give yourself permission to feel your emotions! For those who grieve, the grocery store is notorious for bringing on waves of emotions. I used to tease Naomi that her beef stew was really just cans of Alpo (dog food) dumped into a crockpot. From experience, I know that you will get strange looks when you cry at the sight of Alpo dog food in the grocery store. Friends have told me that the cereal aisle brings them to tears. Don’t be embarrassed to show those emotions.
• Talk about your loved one! We talk about those whom we love. I feel as though it is my responsibility to the Farrar Five (my nieces and nephew) to talk about their mother with them. Who will share the memories that her and I shared? Who will tell them about the time she colored my Siamese cat blue while I was at school? Who will tell them that she was one of the bravest people I know; she was always the first one to jump off the 8 foot tower on our raft each summer?! Who will tell them about the spy club that Naomi, Angela Moro Barkhouse and I had?
  I am so grateful for our friends and family who do not feel uncomfortable when I talk about my sister. She was a huge part of my life even if it was for 41 short years. And as long as I live, I will continue to talk about her, especially for those five very special “kids” that she left us to care for.

And yes, there are days when I feel as though I’ve taken baby steps in this grief journey but as long as I’m still moving forward, somedays it’s at the pace of a turtle but… I’m not stuck!

2 Corinthians 1:3-4   “Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God.”