Last night I took a trip back to the time Mike was in the hospital. I have stayed away from those memories as much as possible, but I felt the need to go back and face it since it is still affecting me in a pretty profound way. Last weekend, I was with a friend and we had to take the same exit I had to take every day to go visit Mike in the hospital. When we took that exit and drove past the hospital, I kinda lost it and started crying. I felt silly, but it was totally beyond my control. So last night, I went there in my head. I allowed myself to recall all those days sitting with Mike in the hospital, urging him to wake up, begging him to wake up, YELLING at him to wake up. Pleading with God to wake him up. Crying. Sitting in silence and prayer. Talking to the nurses. The anger I felt almost daily at whichever hospitalist was on Mike's case for the day. The daily roller coaster of emotions. The fear. The fear was the worst. Not knowing what was going to happen from one minute to the next, always hoping but fearing the worst. Among the many moments of pain and fear and sadness, there were very few moments of comfort and peace. Some days I would just sit there and hold Mike's hand and spend quiet time feeling his spirit and pushing everything I had from me into him. I know he knew I was there. Some days I would get a surprise at the hospital - a pizza from a friend, a care package with little comfort items to make my hospital life a little more bearable, an unexpected visitor, and occasionally someone from the church to pray with us. The bad things are what stand out the most and are still affecting my life today. I had to face those down and beat the crap out of them so that I can move on and not allow them to take me down when I least expect it. I think I've got a good handle on it now. My husband's death didn't take me down, nor will the haunting memories surrounding it. FUCK YOU!
I'm having some concerns about the upcoming memorial. Thank God for Ellen and Barb doing most of the planning for it. I just felt like there was no way I could take that on and do it justice. It's all in good hands and will be a beautiful service. My concerns are that I will be meeting people for the first time that I should have met while Mike was still alive. Friends from his childhood, etc. I will not be having any family here. Mike's family ARE my family, but I still feel a little lopsided. I feel a little alone. And a little scared. I mean....I've got this, and people will only see that I am strong and mostly holding myself together. But inside, I am scared, insecure, and sad. I'm good at putting on my "coping face." I also try to avoid one-on-one conversations. Very well-meaning people feel the need to share how they understand my pain because they lost their dog...or their friend...or some other loved one. As I've said many times, losing your beloved pet does not compare to losing my husband, my life partner, my child's father, my best friend, my personal sounding board, my love....all rolled into one. I'd rather not hear it in that context because when I'm already feeling raw and emotional, I'm going to feel very tempted to punch you in the face.
I have essentially put my life on hold until after the memorial. I want to give Mike and my final goodbye to him my full attention. I don't have room for more right now, in my day-to-day life, nor in my heart and my thoughts. It's an all-consuming need to do this right, out of respect for Mike. He deserves this. He deserves for all of those that loved him to gather and be good to each other and send him off with respect and joy. Don't get me wrong, I feel no joy in saying goodbye to my love. I feel joy in celebrating the time I had with him. I had almost 15 very good years with him, and I will treasure every moment I was given with him. As time goes on, I will feel that joy more than I will feel the sadness of it ending. In fact, that has already started. I have so many fond memories of Mike, and it becomes easier to look at those for what they are. Of course there are many not-so-fond memories, but those are so blurry now and easy to forget.
This has been really rambly. I have a lot going through my head lately, and it's hard to sort out. So I just kinda dumped.
I'm having some concerns about the upcoming memorial. Thank God for Ellen and Barb doing most of the planning for it. I just felt like there was no way I could take that on and do it justice. It's all in good hands and will be a beautiful service. My concerns are that I will be meeting people for the first time that I should have met while Mike was still alive. Friends from his childhood, etc. I will not be having any family here. Mike's family ARE my family, but I still feel a little lopsided. I feel a little alone. And a little scared. I mean....I've got this, and people will only see that I am strong and mostly holding myself together. But inside, I am scared, insecure, and sad. I'm good at putting on my "coping face." I also try to avoid one-on-one conversations. Very well-meaning people feel the need to share how they understand my pain because they lost their dog...or their friend...or some other loved one. As I've said many times, losing your beloved pet does not compare to losing my husband, my life partner, my child's father, my best friend, my personal sounding board, my love....all rolled into one. I'd rather not hear it in that context because when I'm already feeling raw and emotional, I'm going to feel very tempted to punch you in the face.
I have essentially put my life on hold until after the memorial. I want to give Mike and my final goodbye to him my full attention. I don't have room for more right now, in my day-to-day life, nor in my heart and my thoughts. It's an all-consuming need to do this right, out of respect for Mike. He deserves this. He deserves for all of those that loved him to gather and be good to each other and send him off with respect and joy. Don't get me wrong, I feel no joy in saying goodbye to my love. I feel joy in celebrating the time I had with him. I had almost 15 very good years with him, and I will treasure every moment I was given with him. As time goes on, I will feel that joy more than I will feel the sadness of it ending. In fact, that has already started. I have so many fond memories of Mike, and it becomes easier to look at those for what they are. Of course there are many not-so-fond memories, but those are so blurry now and easy to forget.
This has been really rambly. I have a lot going through my head lately, and it's hard to sort out. So I just kinda dumped.