Walking with You Series - Entry #2

Clinging in the Pit

The early grief was not all that long ago for me.  Several months.  Honestly, most of it  is a haze.  I remember the days in the hospital and the days leading up to Alfy's funeral and the day of the funeral and after that time melt together.  The first week I remember sitting on the couch, willing myself from bed to the couch and maybe a shower in there somewhere.  I remember a Saturday, it would have been April 14.  It was a cold, gloomy, damp day.  Tony wanted to put something on the smoker and he did and it rained on him most of the afternoon.  I made chocolate chip and peanut butter chip cookie that day.  It was a good thing I did because I think I lived off the cookies for the next month.  I remember not having an appetite.  Really, I haven't gotten my appetite back until the past few weeks, almost nine months later.  

The early grief was almost like being numb when I look back.  I know there were lots of tears and day of sobbing until you think you couldn't anymore, but it was so "normal" for me that I almost became numb to the process.  There was a day in May when I was reading the news and I read about something that happened on April 27 and I had thought, "What day is it?  April 27 has already passed, there's no way that's possible."  I looked up the date and sure enough, it was May.  I had no idea where the past month had gone.  I had few definitive memories after losing Alfy, just a haze of being.  I continued this way well into July, even after I had gone back to work.  

I do remember days here and there in the haze.  Tony and I really made a point to do things with each other this past year and for that I am so thankful.  We went fishing all the time at the lake down the street, we visited the Omaha Henry Doorly Zoo, we took a trip to Adventureland in Des Moines, IA, we went out to eat at least one night a week.  We made time for each other, to enjoy each other.  Those are the days that gave me hope that we would get out of the pit.

There were also the dark, hard moments.  I remember sitting in the shower crying for what felt like hours, lying on the floor crying, breaking down in random stores because someone just walked by you with a newborn.  I started keeping a journal after I lost track of April.  There are lots of memories written down in it, 50 or 60 pages worth.  I haven't gone back to read it, but I'm glad that I have some record of the early days.  I haven't written in it as much, is it crazy to say it's become extremely hard to find the time?  I need to get back to being better at taking some time just for me.

The pit for me was just a haze.  Writing in a journal helped me with the pit and taking time for myself helped me while I was in the pit.  The climb out is a long slow climb, one I didn't realize I was doing until I had reached the top and thought, wow, I have come out on the other side.  My grief counselor and my husband are probably the two people I have to give the most credit to in getting me out.  Without having them to talk to and be with, I don't know where I would be now.  I think the most important part of being in the pit and climbing out, do it on your own time and do what you need to for you.  No one else knows exactly what you're going through.  Don't compare yourself to others either, you will experience grief in your own way and that's okay. 

Most importantly, there is no right or wrong way, there is just your way.

I wanted to take a quick moment to thank all of those who read Alfy's story.  Thank you for letting me know that I'm not alone in this walk.