There are 5 recognized stages of grief.
1. Denial and Isolation
2. Anger
3. Bargaining
4. Depression
5. Acceptance
Denial and Isolation
When I first got the phone call that something was wrong, I was sure that it was just a misunderstanding. She was in the shower, the cell reception was bad, the landline was down. It couldn't be anything more serious than that.
But it was. It was the most serious thing of all, and we were stuck here. Hours from home with no way to help, or no way to change it. Luckily, the isolation didn't come because I had so many people to help fill the silence. Mostly my babies. Any mother knows, that time alone is hard to come by, and my boys were there with me. A few months later, when I became pregnant with Foo Foo, I knew my mom was with me, and that baby helped keep me out of the dark hole I wanted to crawl into.
There are times that I'm still a bit in denial. I'm shocked that she's not here, and that she will never be here again.
Anger
I was never mad at God. I thought I would be, but maybe I'm just in a better place now with my faith then when I was younger. This week, my pastor spoke on grief and reaffirmed my belief that God doesn't do this to us. I believe he's there with us, grieving with us, knows that it's going to happen, but that sometimes our earthly bodies just can't go on.
Bargaining
I wanted to know why her body gave out. What happened to make this seemingly healthy woman just die. Put her head back and die? Did she stop taking her blood pressure medication? The pills were hard for her to swallow. Did she stop taking them because of that? What if we had gotten her smaller pills? Would it have mattered? She had a headache the weekend before and missed work? What if we would have forced her to go to the doctor? Was she in heart failure? Could they have caught it? But her cardiologist told Dad that even if she had been in a hospital, there was nothing they could have done to save her.
Depression
I am still SO overwhelmingly sad about her absence. I cried the last night of vacation because she wasn't with us. I knew how much she was missing out on, and how much my babies were having to miss out on. I saw a therapist for a while, but I just got tired of it. I feel like I should be "over it" or at least be a little more ok with it.
Running became my therapy. I do it to try to keep myself healthier, so that maybe it will be around longer for my babies, than my mom was for me. It also helps me clear my head. I never thought I would be addicted to it, but I can feel the tension building in me when it's been too long since a run.
Acceptance?
I accept that she is dead. I saw her body. I felt my soul being torn from my body in that instant. But I don't think accepting it will ever mean that I'm ok with it.
But what about this other stage I'm in now? It's not healthy, but where does it fit? I've tried to pull myself out of it, I know it's not right but it's there and I don't know what to do about it. For me, the sixth stage of grief is
Jealousy
I've become some sort of morbid mathematical savant. It happens when I watch the news, read the paper (especially the obituary section), or log in to Facebook. It usually goes something like this.
Status update: We just celebrated Mother/Grandmother/Auntie/etcs 75th/85th/95th birthday. Even when I am happy for them, my mind is doing the math. Their loved one is 12/22/32 years older than my mom got to be.
How is that fair? Is it Anger that I'm feeling? Because it definitely feels like Jealousy. I'm not angry that their loved one is still here, I'm jealous that mine is not.
It's not healthy. It's not fair to those who are blessed to still have their loved ones here. I know people who lost a loved one decades before who still struggle. Is this ugly green monster my new reality? Is this how I have to live now? Running helps, but I don't know how many miles I have to run to get that out of my head. Are there enough miles?
