GRIEVING:
THE FIRST THREE MONTHS
BY
MARIE A. ROY
Published by Marie Roy at Smashwords
Copyright October 2011
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
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THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED TO
MY FAMILY
AND FRIENDS
THE BEREAVEMENT GROUP AT BRISTOL HOSPITAL
HOSPICE
WHEELER CLINIC
IN LOVING MEMORY
ROBERT G. ROY
FEBRUARY 5, 1947 – JULY 6, 2002
And if I go while you're still here...
Know that I live on.
Vibrating to a different measure
--behind a veil you cannot see through.
You will not see me,
So you must have faith.
I wait for the time when we can soar together again
--both aware of each other,
Until then, live your life to its fullest and when you need me just whisper my name in your heart...I will be there.
GOD'S GARDEN
God looked around his garden and found an empty place.
He then looked down upon the earth and saw your tired face.
He put His arm around you and lifted you to rest.
God's garden must be beautiful
He always takes the best.
He knew you were in pain
He knew that you would never get well on the earth again.
He saw that the road was getting rough and the hills were hard to climb.
So He closed your weary eyelids and whispered "Peace Be Thine."
It broke my heart to lose you, but you didn't go alone.
For part of me went with you
The day God called you home.
THE FIRST THREE MONTH'S
While going through stuff I came across a folder of the following emails that had been sent and received soon after my late husband's untimely and unexpected passing in July of 2002. Of course reading through these brought me right back to the day when he suffered a massive heart attack, an event in my life that has played itself out inside my mind ever since. No day goes by—nine plus years later--when at some point during my days and nights the memory of that tragic day plays itself fully through my mind.
I noticed at times that in a few of these emails I stated that I had felt as if I were living someone else's life. And now nine years later whenever I think back to the days, weeks, months, and years that followed his death particularly those first six years after his death, I wonder if it is really possible that I am now entering into my tenth year of widowhood.
The journey through grief and mourning is a long one. It can't be accomplished within a matter of weeks, months, and even years. It's a slow sometimes arduous journey that is made by all who suffer the loss of a loved one. Yet, the journey can be made successfully. At the end (if there really is such a thing) one learns to view life differently. Some will view it with more optimism. Some will view it with hope. And some with the knowledge that life should be lived to the fullest. No one knows when we will be called back home.
I recently came across these two lines.
"We are not human being on a spiritual journey.
"We are spiritual beings on a human journey."
I truly believed that Bob was called home to begin the next level of his own private journey, whatever that might have been, whatever it will be.
Yet, I still feel at times as if I had been scooped up from a "normal" mode of existence to one that had become somewhat quasi normal, taking on a persona that would put me on a fast moving wheel and would have me also running for my life.
I essentially became like one of those hamsters on its wheel, going as fast as I can, and sometimes getting no where fast. Whenever I look back now I also realize that I have been living my "new" life. Although it is not one I had planned to live, nonetheless a life that for all practical purposes has so far turned out okay.
Over time I've slowed myself down on the wheel where I no longer need to be somewhere else. I've become more of who I guess I am supposed to be at this time in my life, a widow whose life changed drastically in an instant when her husband died.
Yet there is a part of me that continues to wonder why it had to happen in the first place and that part keeps trying to come up with enough viable answers that actually make sense out of his passing. The only thing I can think of is that Bob was indeed called back home. His purpose was finished here on this earth, and accepting that has over time given me some of the comfort that many seek in order to move forward.
From what I read in books on the subject of grieving, mourning, death, and dying, I now tend to believe we all do have a purpose for why we are here.
Bob left a legacy behind him of educated students who were inspired by his teachings and who went forward into the world to fulfill their own purposes, whatever they might be.
Through my readings of various books that focus on the soul and soul work, l tend to believe we are here to learn certain lessons. And when we have learned them we are called back and we return to where we will hopefully go on to that next level of existence. Or we simply through rebirths come back to learn more lessons or to fulfill more purposes.
As I get older I feel I am getting closer to where my late husband is and further from where I am on this earthly plane. And why I think it helps to understand what our purpose is for being here or what lessons we might need to learn as we approach an age where we can go back at any time.
I also think it helps to try to understand life's cycles and that death is not necessarily a terrible, frightening event. Death may in fact be our only passage back to the true essence of who we were. Death may just be that only pathway back home.
We all die. It is part of life's cycle. We all must die to complete that cycle. There is no denying it, or trying to run away to prevent it from happening. And since it is part of life's cycle, then perhaps it is not as bad as we have made it out to be. Instead maybe we should not be grieving this type of loss for ourselves but instead celebrate it. I don't know yet if I can. Someday.
My late husband died sooner than anyone ever expected. I certainly did not expect him to die at the age of fifty-five. I expected at least thirty more years with him. Yet since his death I have felt his soul, his presence around me and know in my heart the day he died was the day he was called and needed to return home.
Those who passed on and go into that other dimension and then wait. They wait for the time when we will join them. I believe that is so because by believing this concept things start to make a lot more sense to me.
Whatever the purpose is for any of us, once that purpose is fulfilled or the lesson is learned, then we return.
It is that simple and maybe for some too simple an answer. It certainly isn't very complicated when you think about it. We come here to learn or fulfill a purpose and we leave here to continue on to a next level of existence.
I don't think I truly lost my best friend for he has been here with me all along and he now waits for me to either fulfill my purpose or to learn whatever lessons I need to learn.
Below are emails that started on July 8, 2002 and her they end around the last week of October, into the first week of November 2002, essentially my first three months into a grieving and mourning process.
I thought I would share them to reflect what someone like myself goes through during those first three months after someone close to us dies. It may help enlighten others to see that yes, although not easy, quite painful, not to mention depending upon the type of death it was (sudden or expected) we do get through what will be the most difficult time within the grieving process.
These emails may offer not only some enlightenment, but also guidelines, and encouragement to those who have lost a loved one.
These emails showed me that I think I put myself on the right path through the grieving process in terms of doing those things that I needed to do in order to get from point a to point b.
At point a, I am devastated, questioning every step I make, wondering if I will survive. At point b, reading the last of the emails I begin to see that it did get somewhat easier for me after those initial weeks had passed by of grieving and mourning my loss.
Toward the end of these emails I came across one email titled Just Pedal. I had forgotten about this one. Remembering it, and reading through it I realized at a certain point rather than running on the wheel, instead I had gotten off it and had begun to pedal on a virtual bike. Almost ten years later I think that I should keep on pedaling my way through or perhaps instead dance my way through the rest of my life while I'm still here on this earth.
Just Pedal!
At first I saw God as my observer, my judge, keeping track of the things I did wrong, so as to know whether I merited heaven or hell when I die. He was out there sort of like a president. I recognized his picture when I saw it, but I really did know Him.
But later on, when I met God, it seemed as though life were rather like a bike ride, but it was a tandem bike, and I noticed that God was at the back, helping me pedal.
I don't know when it was that he suggested that we change places, but life has not been the same since. When I had control I knew the way. It was rather boring, but predictable. It was the shortest distance between two points. But when he took the lead, He knew delightful long cuts, up mountains, and through rocky places at breakneck speeds. It was all I could do to hang on!
Even though it looked like madness, He said, "Pedal!"
I worried and was anxious and asked, "Where are you taking me?" He laughed and didn't answer and I started to learn to trust. I forgot my boring life and entered into the adventure. And when I'd say "I'm sacred," He'd lean back and touch my hand.
He took me to people with gifts that I needed; gifts of healing, acceptance, and joy. They gave me gifts to take on my journey. As we were off again. He said, "Give the gifts away; they're extra baggage, too much weight. I did, to the people we met, and I found that in giving I received, and still our burden was light.
I did not trust Him at first, in control of my life. I thought He'd wreck it; but he knows bike secrets, knows how to make it bend to take sharp corners, knows how to jump to clear high rocks, knows how to fly to shorten scary passages. And I am learning to shut up and pedal in the strangest places, and I'm beginning to enjoy the view and the cool breeze on my face with God as my delightful, constant companion.
And when I'm sure I just can't do anymore, He just smiles and says, "Pedal!
First I think I'll share the initial letter from the bereavement program conducted at the hospital where my husband passed on, which set me on a good path into and throughout the grieving process.
Dear Mrs. Roy,
As each of us mourns the death of our loved one, we do so in our own unique ways. Some cry openly, some privately, some not at all. Some of us feel angry with the one who died, with God, the universe or ourselves. Others feel relief, guilt and often a sense of our own vulnerability. It is important for you to know that all these feelings and reactions are normal and acceptable—none are bad—allow yourself to feel your full range of emotions.