Wednesday, June 28, 2017 What An Amazing Woman
Woke up feeling really good, got a good session in this
morning. One of the things I’m trying to
keep in mind is that it is not necessary to feel like I’m in constant contact
with Irene. It’s perfectly fine to
continue on doing things in life in a normal way without constantly envisioning
her with me or having a conversation with her.
There’s no need to feel guilty or like I’m failing her or forgetting her
if I actually concentrate on other things for awhile. We will have our time every day where I can
talk with her or envision her or just “feel” her presence, and hopefully there will be a time when I can actually experience her in perfect clarity.
Joined a couple of grief groups on Facebook and made a post
in each, then started reading. Afterward
I had to cry – I think I took on some of their pain, and these people are in serious, unrelenting despair and agony. I came away very, very grateful for all of
the grace, protection and love that god, Irene and others have given me from the other side, as well as the support from the kids and grandkids. I’m not
experiencing anything near what many others experience; mine comes in doses,
sometimes long doses, but I’ve also had a lot of time where I feel great, whole
and complete. In other words, while I know what grief feels like; I don't know what it feels like to go months or even years in that kind of unrelenting pain. I don't know that I could endure it.
I had a really good 2nd meditation session. I meditate for about 30 minutes at a time now
– that’s about as long as I can go without my legs falling asleep and going
uncomfortably numb. Maybe I should look
into getting a chair, like a recliner, specifically for meditation?
I found some old letters/cards I wrote Irene – I guess the
kids found them going through stuff and left them on the top of Irene’s dresser
because I just found them yesterday.
Reading through them I remembered how many psychological/relationship
issues and challenges we faced together, each of us with our own
self-destructive tendencies, our defensiveness, our habit of interpreting
everything through the lens of what our prior spouses did; and also through the
lens of our own pain and disappointments.
The notes and letters helped me remember how we would lie in bed at
night talking things out, soothing each other’s frayed edges, finding ways to
work through and get over what seemed at times to be insurmountable problems.
That’s something that continually made me fall deeper and deeper in love with Irene – of all the people I had ever met up to that point, she was the only one who would actually take ownership of her own issues. She had a chip on her shoulder the size of a boulder when we met, but for me – for me! – she let herself become vulnerable and open to change. She could see that I really loved her. She would actually think about things I said. I’d never seen anything like it before, it was absolutely incredible. She saw me do the same for her – realizing many times that she was absolutely right about my own flaws and shortcomings. The thing is, we both wanted to be better, and to do better, for each other.
When I think of all that she endured before I even met her – the death of her Mother, a step-father she loved like a father, and her son, Jamie; then watching her endure the death of her biological father … I frankly don’t even comprehend that much strength, especially knowing how deeply Irene feels things and how much she loved those who departed. How does anyone not only endure that much pain, but then go on to be so loving, caring, sweet and joyful? And then even when cancer comes back? She would brighten the day of everyone at Texas Oncology every time she went there for her treatments. She would make their day. God, what an amazing woman!
That’s something that continually made me fall deeper and deeper in love with Irene – of all the people I had ever met up to that point, she was the only one who would actually take ownership of her own issues. She had a chip on her shoulder the size of a boulder when we met, but for me – for me! – she let herself become vulnerable and open to change. She could see that I really loved her. She would actually think about things I said. I’d never seen anything like it before, it was absolutely incredible. She saw me do the same for her – realizing many times that she was absolutely right about my own flaws and shortcomings. The thing is, we both wanted to be better, and to do better, for each other.
When I think of all that she endured before I even met her – the death of her Mother, a step-father she loved like a father, and her son, Jamie; then watching her endure the death of her biological father … I frankly don’t even comprehend that much strength, especially knowing how deeply Irene feels things and how much she loved those who departed. How does anyone not only endure that much pain, but then go on to be so loving, caring, sweet and joyful? And then even when cancer comes back? She would brighten the day of everyone at Texas Oncology every time she went there for her treatments. She would make their day. God, what an amazing woman!
"....One of the things I’m trying to keep in mind is that it is not necessary to feel like I’m in constant contact with Irene. " You had been in basically constant 24/7 contact with Irene physically for numerous years...ever since U started working from home. So naturally you are going to feel guilt, etc, etc...when not in constant contact now. Such an abrupt/cold turkey thing-physically here one day, then gone. It blows. I think I had an easier time with mom, dad & reed's passing because I did not see them very often.
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