I am sorry to tell you but...

You have been diagnosed with grief. Grief is almost like having a disease. Some debilitating, have-to-learn-how-to-live-with, for the rest of your life, disease. Something like diabetes, or high blood pressure. You will have to modify your lifestyle to accommodate it. Some days you will have everything under control, then your sugar or blood pressure or feelings go way too high or way too low and you find yourself in an emergency state of needing rescue. How could Mike let this happen? How could God let this happen?

How can I have this disease process? After all, grief is a process, right? A life-long process. Am I a manic? Some days I have energy like a Rat Terrier and other days I feel like an old hound dog. My eyes and tail sag. I just assume lie in bed or on the front porch. It shows up without warning signs. I am emotional for no real reason. I have no energy even on days off. Then, I go to work like the Rat Terrier on a major caffeine high and no one can keep up with me. Explain this to me.

I have spent the past 15 years in some form of emergency and critical care. No one or no thing has prepared me for this response. It is beyond my comprehension and education. It is a life education. I would not have picked this as an elective in college. No thanks. But here I am learning on a moment by moment basis the whole awful, terrible, roller coaster process.

I have to share a very honest moment I had last week. I had a major low. I just plain hurt. I missed Mike. I cried uncontrollable tears, down to the tips of my toes. I swear they cried. I felt it with every ounce of my being. Then, I decided I needed to do something different. Something I have not been able to do. I decided to look at the video played during Mike's memorial celebration (yeah, right. What celebration?). A little more info...I am on another travel nursing assignment in Asheville, NC. I brought the dvd with me in case I decided to finally look at pictures of Mike. After all, I have only, briefly been able to look at him. And only once have I seen the video displayed during the visitation. I have not even seen the video played during the memorial celebration. So, I thought I grabbed one from home to bring with me to Asheville. It's about 1am in the morning. I have cried with no relief. I load this dvd onto my computer. And what pops up? Something from my husband's rescue squad. I grabbed from the very place I had left one of the dvds but I grabbed the wrong one. So, by myself, in the wee hours of the morning, in between the tears, I had to laugh. It was classic, Mike. Something always happens. Something a little wrong or misadventure. But, obviously, a little right. Maybe I did not need to see that right then. Maybe I needed to laugh. Whatever it was, it needed to be.

I have no explanation for Mike's wreck. None. I have no explanation for his death. But it needed to be. Grandaddy made the statement that Mike was tired. So, I guess, God took him to eternal rest and relaxation. I have no explanation for my new disease. None. But I am learning to cope. Moment by moment. Hour by hour. Day by day. It is a lifelong process. Patience. Grace. Understanding. I miss you, Mikey. But I am learning to live with your absence. It is a process. A disease of sorts. So it was a blessing to have you in my life. Absence of a good thing leads to a disease. Hmmmmm.

Until next time,
Love,
Rhonda