July 26         grief revisited

I’m sitting on the deck, or was a moment ago, and I notice a single leaf floating down from some unknown tree onto the gutter of my house. And of course, my mind goes catawampus and I think…

The leaf is obviously no longer alive – it is disconnected from its life source – the branch that it was once attached to. It is dis-abled. Dying. Almost dead. Does the tree that gave it life grieve?  I have no idea. But I do know that grief takes many forms and is a response to many deaths and losses. Loss of a loved job – or even a well-paying one.  Loss of a friendship, for whatever reason. Death of a loved one – sibling, parent grandparent, friend, spouse, to name a few. But of late I’m also experiencing the loss of physical ability. I’m not dis-abled as some are. I can still get in my car - move somewhat freely - do some of my former activities.

But….not well. And with a modicum of pain all the time. A small amount compared to some – but this is not a pissing contest.  My physical struggles are uniquely my own - and so I grieve for what once was. So - add this to the grief I still feel for Glenn’s death and I am almost  always at a loss. My hip replacement has not healed to my satisfaction and I have a degenerative disc issue with my back.  Simple movements are a challenge and often painful.  But I persevere - I do what I must - and then some.

But I grieve nonetheless. For all of what was – Glenn, my health and mobility – my youth - my ability to move my body as even a 50 something could.

Is grieving about the death of something? Yes – but not always the death of a beloved person.  It could be, and often is, the death of an ability.   

So, what to do. I suppose count my blessings – and they are many (in spite of my current attitude). But learning of a new way to live is not easy – I think it might be like moving to a foreign country where you don’t know the culture or the language. 

I’m still learning this language and culture of grief.  It’s been 2 years plus.  I had read somewhere that the second year is harder than the first.  And I believe that. But I’m also thinking that year 3 will be no picnic either…  at least not for me.

Does all this sound negative? I suppose it does. But that is where I am.  For now. 

Grieving losses.