Time Heals!

Its been a couple of weeks since the anniversary of Mark’s death. In my last post I talked about the difference between mourning and grief. Mourning is time related. In most cultures a year. Grief continues on forever, but with the passage of time it sinks from the surface. Never very far, but coping with those moments of grief brings less tears and heartache. I am here to report that this premise holds true, even more than I believed it would. The tears are fewer and farther between. The weight of grief has diminished. It’s still there, but easier.

In 1994 my parents were nearing the end. My brother and I had made the trip to Indiana once again. This was the hardest one because, we had to return Mom to the care of a nursing home. My brother and I agree it was the hardest thing we had experienced in our lives up to that time.

I was at the nursing home before I left for the trip back to Minnesota. I stood at the door and watched this final scene.

“Mom had the left-leaning list left behind by her stroke, as she shuffled down the hall on Dad’s arm.  Dad had a slightly bent-over walk with his trousers, held up by his suspenders, situated too far above his waist and the tops of his white socks showing -- high water pants is what she would have called them.  They had finally taken on the feeble look of the very old.  Against the bright light, reflecting off the polished beige tiled floor, they moved slowly away from where I stood, supporting each other, moving gently into the light.

The next day, I started back to Minnesota.  As I drove along, I couldn’t get that image out of my mind, and suddenly tears began to flow like the torrents of a summer thunderstorm beating against the windshield.  I pulled to the side of the road, where I sat crying -- unashamedly.  Eventually, the storm of tears subsided and the clouds of mourning cleared away.  I felt as if a heavy burden had been lifted from my shoulders.  In retrospect, that moment on the highway was my period of mourning for the loss of my parents because from that moment on, I cried very little.  I realized the time had come to take my seat in the front row of life, as the older generation, and someday, I too would walk gently into the light. “

These experiences are consistent, although the facts of the circumstances are a little different. Mourning passes and grieve subsides to a little below the surface of your emotions.  Time heals, even though it doesn’t heal completely.

As I wrote about my grandfather' s funeral on what it felt like when it was all over.

'"As we walked back to our car in silence, I took a quick glance over my shoulder to catch a final glimpse of where my grandfather would be buried forever.  Dad started the engine, and we eased our way out of the cemetery and on to the road back to Grandma’s house.  The silence was broken when my father reached over and turned on the radio.  As the music began to play, I can clearly remember feeling the great burden of grief being lifted from my body.  Suddenly, I felt better.  The program on the radio was normal.  The traffic was normal.  The sunshine was normal.  The green of the trees and grass was normal.  Everything was normal, and the world was indeed going on as usual.  I guess it was my first realization that death’s rituals pass and the world, as it had done while I was away, goes on about its daily business.
'

There is a new day!

Sam