Birth, Death, Joy, Grief (21)
Jul 19, 2020
Birth, Death, Joy, Grief (21)
“Never be afraid to trust an unknown future
To a known God”
· Corrie ten Bloom
My wife of 59 years (June 10, 2020) and best friend Eileen had been diagnosed with terminal cancer of the esophagus, in February 2019. Eileen died on February 22, 2020, the day following the birth of our latest granddaughter, Maria, the funeral was March 4, 2020, and the burial was July 3, 2020. This blog gives my thoughts, fears, prayers, and hopes during this challenging and difficult time looking at the space in my life.
07/19/20 I arrived at my brother’s place in Ohio on Friday, after an uneventful trip of 6 hours or so for the 400 miles. Traffic was light, the rest-stops clean and attended, I used masks every time I stopped, and gloves when getting fuel. I had packed a lunch so I did not stop at any place along the way other than the official rest-stops to walk around every few hours. I will be in Ohio for as long as necessary, but I believe I should be able to return home in around 10 days or so if all goes well, then self-quaranteeing for two weeks.
It turns out that I still had the pleasure of Dan’s family, as they decided to stay another week, and celebrate Alisandra’s birthday on the 20th. As stated above, I am now in Ohio with my brother, whose cataract surgery is also on the 20th. We have had a good time just talking, and Tom seems to have regained much of his spirits. Since both of us suffered recent losses of our spouses, Tom a year ago, we could share reactions.
It has been moments of shear joy to watch little Maria smile and laugh, even learning how to play hide-and-seek with a blanket that she would cover her eyes and then whip it off, laughing when Dan would say “Where’s Maria” over and over. Moments like this make life worth living; and I know Eileen was laughing with us. I will miss those moments of joy.
I am saddened by the viral spread of Carona-19 throughout our country, and the total disregard of the welfare of others by so many, as I saw so many without masks every place I stopped. I will say with pride the New Yorkers seem to much more pro-life in that almost everyone wears a mask when in close contact with others. And now so many appear to say that they will refuse a vaccine when available. Crazy!
Tom had support during the time I was gone home, and he seems in good spirits, somewhat nervous as he waits for the surgery. We have had many good conversations about the state of life in the short time I have been here, and look forward to many more over the next week or so.
My spirits are still dark, and I suspect that I will have to spend time at home without help to start to work through my gloom and grief. It has been suggested that I work with a counselor, as the group meetings are not happening now, and the next one (hopefully on zoom) does not start until September. I will call and try to see if anyone is available next week. I have been given several contact points to start. I do miss that feeling of God in my life, and most of all I miss Eileen and the many small conversations and shear presence that 60 years bring. I realize that how many times we take that for granted that these moments will continue forever, but life just continues, and we move through our lives, and all of us will reach that milestone of leaving this life as time continues to pass, no matter how much we try to stop time.
Gentle One, I reach for You and all seems empty at this time. The vacancy in my life sometimes threatens to overwhelm me, but I have been told that this is normal, and these cycles of grief and sadness will eventually become less common, but may never completely leave. I rest in Your peace, and let my soul cry out in loneliness.