I checked my mailbox this morning and found, to my dismay, my school pictures. I didn’t recognize the woman looking back at me. As I walked to my classroom it struck me that all this grief has changed me. Just out of curiosity, I looked at my photo ID from last year, what I refer to as BC – before Cathy died.
I placed the ID on top of the new photo and studied my features. Last year my smile was wide, my shoulders were pulled back, I was sitting up straight and my hair was flipped up in a wispy style that opened up my face. In the new photo my smile was only on half of my face, my shoulders drooped down as if I had just sighed. My hair was flat against my face making it look long and drawn. The photographer must have said, “Smile!” and I was thinking, “yeah, right.”
Since Cathy died a few months ago, I seem to refer to the past in terms of before she died and after. For instance, yesterday I was looking for a photo of my daughter at Girl Scout camp. As I was flipping through the photo album I was trying to remember if she last went to camp before Cathy died in December or in the spring since the accident.
Last night as I was drifting off the sleep I was thinking about Thanksgiving last year, trying to put together a time line of our losses. I wondered how we would cope as an extended family when Thanksgiving roled around this year.
Let’s see now. Last year we lost Aunt Barbara in July so that was the first holiday Uncle George was without his beloved wife. We all made great effort to be there with him – everyone except Cathy. She decided that she wanted to go to our mother’s for Thanksgiving so mom wouldn’t be alone. And I am so grateful she did.
A week later Cathy died on December 1st. The pain was so great. It’s so hard to explain. It was like a dream, surreal, time stood still for days. Then nineteen days later Gramsy died and entire family gathered on Christmas Eve to bury her. I remember calling the secretary at school because I was taking another day off for a funeral. I told her that we had decided not to tell Gramsy that Cathy had died. Edna said, “Well, she knows now!”
Exactly one month to the day after Gramsy died Uncle George was rushed to the hospital where he had open heart surgery. He went through so much and he tried to hang on, knowing that we just couldn’t face another loss. As we grieved for our losses we also came to terms with the inevitable. Uncle George just couldn’t do it anymore and was ready to go. He begged to be taken back to his home to die. He wanted to be with Barbara.
I wonder how grief will change me in the future. Will I my jaws begin to set in this stern position? Will my smile continue to be lopsided and insincere? I miss the carefree girl in the other photo. I wish I could bring her back to life.
