ALWAYS AND FOREVERS
I’ve admitted to finding my Mom’s dead body, but the passing of my wife was different in its own ways and not something that I frequently discuss. First I had to “find” her, in the sense that she was away from home getting ready to go to Germany for her daughter’s art show. Not knowing exactly where she was each leg of the trip made it difficult to find out which hospital/police station/etc I should call. Believe me, I called plenty that morning. Again, another event that I can’t quite recall the details of, but I somehow made it through.
I can’t imagine that we’re born with the knowledge of what exactly to do in these situations, so I’d have to say that for me, it was a mix of mania with some sort of gut instinct. When I found my Mom, I screamed downstairs to my older brother to call 911, so I wasn’t exactly equipped. Finally, upon hearing the news, I only knew that I had to pass it on to her family, all on the East Coast, but who? Her Dad, who was quite ill at the time, her Mom, her brother, or her daughter, before she got on her flight too. Though I honestly can’t recall, I’m willing to bet it was her daughter. I didn’t want to be the bearer of bad news, but that was the only news I had to share (bearer of good news seems like a foreign concept to me). I believe that I called her daughter, passing on information the same way it was passed to me in a way. I don’t like this story much, as I didn’t want her to be in the same position that I had been through, without a parent that she Loved.
Though thankfully, in a way, I can no longer remember, with my memory being that bad now or I’ve just blocked it like I did with my Mom. Sure I called my therapist and we talked but I have no recollection of the results.
Either way, I suppose that we can all handle more than we think. Do we just allow ourselves to forget and move on with every instance of grief: “I did the best I could at the time” or something like that until it’s just a fact of our lives? Describing myself as the sum of these traumas just feels… like not enough.
There is no textbook reaction for trauma. It can be different from person to person. It can haunt us, shape us, sometimes define us. But it is important to deal with, and talking about it is an important step. It needs to be released least it poison us. The people we lose along the way will always be important, and they will always be close to us in both spirit and in our hearts. You are more than the sum of trauma. It is part of you, but not wholly you. You are your hopes, fears, joys, and sadnesses. You are what you take in and what you give. You are the sum of many things, not just trauma. You are your interests, your hobbies, you are looking at the sun on a summer day and you are also the one watching the clouds build for a storm in January as the cold wind nips at your cheeks. You are the person deciding what to eat, what to treat yourself with, and the person who must remind yourself that you deserve all the joys life can bring, despite the hardships. You are you, and that makes you special.
After contacting her family, I knew that I needed a suit for her service. Why I thought the service would be held in Oakland instead of her New Jersey where all her family is goes beyond me. But sure, I went straight to a tailor and decked out a proper suit and had to wait the few days for it to be ready. Her family visited me as soon as possible, but suggested in the kindest way that I not go along with them to visit her body: I was already wearing my suit that day. They likely sensed my manic state of mind, and in a way, I find it rather kind that they left me in my studio. So I just have paperwork, but no further memories. These days.