Yep, today marks three months.
I adore this shirt. (In case you can’t tell from the picture, it says, “Today’s Forecast: Cloudy with a Chance of Widow Brain.”) I made the decision to just accept and maybe even embrace this new (and hopefully temporary?) normal of an often muddled brain. Laughing at myself and all my uncharacteristic-for-typical-pre-leukemia-and-then-widowhood-me mistakes feels a whole lot better than self pity or anger. Sure, there are moments of all the feelings, but I refuse to feed and indulge them. Feel and acknowledge them, yes, but not drown in them.
Frankly, I don’t like how self pity feels at all. There’s so much yuck I’m still wading through, but I. WILL. NOT. STAY. STUCK. HERE. Over the past week I have felt my natural grit and determination (stubbornness?) peeking through at moments, determined to get past this and be OK again. Learn and grow and be better from these experiences that have been forced on me. I will get through this (although never “over this”). My family will get through this. Hopefully we’ll be softer on the other side, not hardened.
One invaluable lesson I am learning is how to have compassion for myself. Because you might not be aware of this, but I’ve been through a lot the past year! It’s no wonder that my brain isn’t working at peak capacity, or sometimes small or seemingly silly things will be so hard. I know this won’t always be the case. I also know that I would be patient and loving if a close friend had gone through the experiences I did from the past year, and then was struggling during the afterward. Of course I would! It’s harder to amend those expectations for myself, but I’m choosing (forcing myself, really) to do so.
So how was Father’s Day for our little family? Certainly we braced for what was undoubtedly going to be a difficult day. There were tears, most assuredly, but for me they felt cleansing, and honoring, and even sacred. The day was harder for my kids, and in a way that I couldn’t completely relate. I never lost my father. But again, we returned to the idea of being gentle with one another. I gave the kids the choice and they opted to stay home from church and just stream the meeting at home. We shared memories, ate some of Kendall’s favorite foods. Everyone, including me, wrote a letter to Kendall and then we went to the cemetery where they could choose to read it aloud, leave it there, do whatever felt right. It was different for everyone. Thank goodness Kendall’s grave is so close to a hillside, where one particularly passionate child can energetically throw stones or pine cones to work off their anger every time we visit. And the area is secluded, so we can each have the privacy we need while we’re there.
I still feel very fragile, and it’s hard sometimes for me to be around people. But I know I do need others, and I’ll slowly start to join in life again. I will. I am. The few times I’ve forced myself to do things I have come away at the end glad that I did, even though it felt so hard at the time. I know on an intellectual level how very important connection is, even when I feel an overwhelming urge to isolate and hide away. I’m working on that.
So again, thank you to those who have still reached out to me, even though I’ve been a difficult (or at least distant) friend lately. I’m still easily overwhelmed by, well, life. I know I won’t always be here (see that self compassion at work?), but I’m trying to be gentle with myself and where I’m at right now. Cause where I’m at right now definitely involves a lot of “Widow Brain,” with all the amusing foibles and follies that follow.