Thursday, August 21, 2008

silly junk

I apologize in advance for the seemingly vacuous frivolity of this post.

The picture you see up there, is the profile picture that I changed to on Facebook. Yes, I'm on facebook. I thought it was fabulous initially to be able to find everyone you have ever crossed paths with to see what they're doing, I now think it's ....well, vacuous and frivolous (isn't everything now?). But since two days after Jeff died, my profile picture on Facebook has been a photo of the two of us taken the day before he died. Everytime I see the picture I feel sick. I want to scream at myself to get him to the hospital. I search his face for signs of illness (which now I think I can see...). It's a reminder of how long/short the amount of time it has been since he died. It's a reminder of how much I miss my sweet husband. So tonight, I changed it. In someways, it's a relief to not have to look at the picture that reminds me of the worst day/moments of my life. But in other ways, I feel like I'm betraying him by removing it. I'm again trying to hide from the pain of losing Jeffrey.
It isn't just Facebook. I can't look at certain things that remain in the house since he's gone. I can't remove them. I can't even MOVE them. I can't look/touch/smell them either for fear of a breakdown.
The strangest part is that now, this week, it's as if, my heart suddenly knows he's gone. He's not coming home. I have the rest of my days to live out without him. No big cozy hugs in the middle of the night. No obscenely loud laughter from the basement. No ship-to-shore phonecalls. No 'I love you the whole pie'. No teasing and giggling. No working side by side to get work around the house done. No strong daddy to fling squealing little ones into the air. He's not coming back.
I guess that's called acceptance. I have to accept it. But I don't want to look at it. I don't want to immerse myself in it. I want to shy away. Will that ever stop? The recoiling in terror at the emotions that surge forward when I really see one of his possessions, smell his scent wafting past the closet, hear the songs he used to sing to me?

13 comments:

Marissa said...

the new picture is beautiful.

acceptance can be a beautiful gift, even if you receive that gift in small doses. only you know those dose portions, and that's ok.

one day at a time, how cliche' but how true. keep breathing.

*hugs*

Kate said...

I agree with Marissa - the new picture is beautiful. I just joined facebook and I am unashamed to say that I love it.

I read a lot of yoga books and they all talk about acceptance, but in my experience the process itself is a real bitch. I hope the little steps eventually add up to some peace.

IamDerby said...

I have no words, I obviously dont know how you feel. But you do have my sympathy. I love your new picture, its beautiful.

matt_in_the_los_angeles said...

i'm with ya.

it kills me that i can't hear liz's voice.

i can't even remember what it sounded like.

www.andreacaroljones.com said...

I just found your blog and myself find facebook incredibly silly but I can't seem to stop using it. Keeping you in my thoughts as you move along in your life. Our family has been through endless amounts of grief the past 10 years.

Elfie33 said...

Sending hugs and healing thoughts your way...I found your blog by accident. I have no words of comfort for your loss..other than hugs. Your picture is indeed beautiful. *hugs*

darcie said...

Oh Jackie - I am so very sorry. I don't even have words to try and say anything - but I just wanted you to know I'm here and I'm reading and I'm thinking of you and Liv and Briar. I wish I could make the pain stop, I wish I had a magic wand to make everyone's trouble disappear (and create trouble for a few random people in my life!) Someone recently told me he thinks my magic wand must need batteries...if only...

Take Care Jackie -
hugs from Minnesota
xoxo ~ darcie

Anonymous said...

I have not been through something as bad as what you've been through...but I can very much imagine the same emotions. The wanting to put it behind you, and yet the feeling of betrayal if you actually do so...etc.

You are amazing and I am so proud of you. I'm sorry I don't have anything more helpful to say than that...I wish I had the right words.

--Katy

13mimosa said...

I don't know if they'll ever go away, those feelings you talk of. I guess remembering those little things, the things that make up a person, remembering that you no longer have those things is like losing them all over again. I can understand why you therefore want to avoid things that trigger your memory, I only hope it will eventually get easier for you.

maureen said...

Jackie-You are doing things exactly as you need to...our subconcious (or whatever it is that controls this stuff) takes on only what it can...don;t feel bad about that...
Have you read "Operating Instructions" by Anne Lamott? I don't have children, but even so, this book really rang true to me when she talked about some of her dealings with grief. She has some great observations on life.
And, your picture is gorgeous, by the way...

Crash Course Widow said...

You asked: "Will that ever stop? The recoiling in terror at the emotions that surge forward when I really see one of his possessions, smell his scent wafting past the closet, hear the songs he used to sing to me?"

Yes, eventually, it will stop. And it will be a loss, of one sort, in itself when you lose the sharpest pain. You might feel guilty when you realize it doesn't hurt as much as it used it, that you're somehow getting used to his absence. But it does get easier, less painful. Or maybe you just get more numb and deadened, more used to it all, so somehow it seems to hurt less. Or at least that's been my experience.

I went through several phases where it was just too hard to look at pictures, Charley's things, etc., too. It comes and goes.

I just signed up for Facebook yesterday, after another widowed friend has been raving about it. And *I* felt strange putting photos of Charley, of our life together, up there after he's been gone 3 years. I guess some small part of me thought I should only put the happy, "fake" pictures (the ones of me looking happy and well) from the last 3 years up, that I had no business putting fantasy pictures from when he was alive up there when he's been gone so long. But I decided to screw it; *I* wanted those pictures up there, proof that I'd had it one time, and not to just hide it. I remember it being a lot harder 18 months ago to put stuff like that up when I joined MySpace; I didn't know what to put because largely it was people from our childhoods--people who knew Charley--who'd see it, and it felt strange to have them find out about his death in an offhand way. I guess it's a sign of change, healing (??), or that I still need recognition and validation for what happened, for what I've survived, that I put it up (mostly) without a quibble on Facebook.

Hang in there....

Hugs,
Candice

CrackerJacks said...

What a fantastic and beautiful photo! You look fabulous!

baby steps...one day at a time.

Queen Mimi said...

What a Beautiful picture of you. I love your hair color too. Your Grace, Beauty and Love are just glowing in this pic.
God Bless you. I check in on you now and again, and always keep you in my prayers.