My New Normal

It is Well with My Soul

February 20, 2011, my entire world and life that I loved fell apart. I didn't know how I was going to survive and didn't know if I wanted to; I just knew I had to. 

When you go through grief, go to any support groups or read any books about grief, there is one resounding phrase EVERYONE talks about, that is finding "your new normal." They should also inform you that "your new normal" is not something you are going to want for a long time. You see, when my Mel passed away I didn't want a "new normal." I wanted everything to just stay the way it was. I didn't want to live in a world that didn't include him. I couldn't imagine my world without him in it. I remember not being able to even think a day ahead into the future, and thinking of the next week terrified me. 

I also had never know how exhausting grief was. Waking up every day to another day of hell was hard. For about three years I barely functioned. I got up for the kids. We would get groceries, do laundry and the other basic things that needed to be done. But beyond that I simply did not have the strength or physical reserve to do anything else. Everything seemed like a monumental task. I couldn't function well because my memory was literally fried. I remember insisting that my doctor give me the memory tests for dementia. Nope that wasn't it, I was simply in "the widow's fog." Hah, lucky me. Writing myself notes didn't even help because I could never remember where I put them. 

I was so afraid that people would forget Mel and the life we had and the family we created together. I wanted to share all my stories about him to remind them. The kids and I talked about him a lot and still do. Most other people don't mention him much at all. That used to offend me and hurt me to my soul, but I have realized they don't do this intentionally. At first I think people wanted to avoid the subject because they knew it would make me cry, and they didn't want to cause me any more pain (or maybe they thought, oh no here she goes again). Then, like it or not, I had to realize that everyone else around me just got to go back to their "old normal" lives. They have jobs, families and responsibilities. Their world hadn't stopped like mine had. In fact some of the time I didn't even feel like I was part of this world anymore. I was disoriented and confused and hurt beyond any pain I had ever felt in my life.

I've been searching for the elusive "new normal" for a long time, half afraid that I would find it. I didn't want to feel like I was forgetting my "old normal" life. Then the strangest thing happened. Last November I suddenly didn't feel as burdened as I had since February 20, 2011. For the first time in all those years I was actually perhaps excited for the holidays. I wrapped gifts. I listened to Christmas music. Even the kids noticed, especially when their gifts weren't in the bags they came from the store in. Then the new year came along, generally a very anxiety filled time for me, reliving every moment of the last hospital stay Mel had and us finding out he was probably not going to survive. It's simply crazy that I had to search for my keys every day but those memories were embedded in my marrow. 

It suddenly occurred to me that maybe I had inadvertently, without seeking it, found my "new normal." I feel settled. I feel like all the parts of my life with Mel and all the memories I have are now woven into my soul, like the threads that are woven together to create a beautiful tapestry. I don't have to look for anything because IT became me. I don't have to worry about my kids not remembering their daddy, because he is woven into their souls just like he is in mine. The life and love we had will never disappear just because he died, all of those 13 years and 2 months have been gathered together and become a part of my innermost being. It makes me think of the song "It is Well With my Soul." My soul is at peace at last.

And I have learned too that grief does not go away. It also becomes woven into your soul. There are not stages of grief to "get through" and be done grieving. That's a myth. The truth is the sharp, stabbing pain of initial grief (that can last for years), does lessen. It's like the waves of the ocean. You can stand there and watch the waves rolling toward you, but you're still taken back when they knock you flat on your butt. Now I think I can stand at the ocean's edge and laugh when I get knocked down. It's still there, but it's not terrifying. 

I know where Mel is. He's in heaven, and I know on the day my Father brings me home, Mel will be there with Him to welcome me home. Daniel asked me a couple of weeks ago if I thought daddy and Sugar would be waiting for us when we got to heaven, and I exclaimed Of Course and he will be yelling at everyone, "look that's my son I've been telling you all about." And I really do believe it.