Count the number of days between August 19 and September 2.  That is how many days it took for us to become orphans. In 2014 within those 2 weeks,  my sister and I were orphaned. And the journey had been intense and in in some ways, just begun. The following words came from that life changing experience.  The grief lives in your DNA.

 

IN THE EARLY DAYS

In the early days everything inside you is so crisp, perception has keen sight into the trueness of life

All priorities and reality are seamless and make more sense than ever

All while struggling to breath under the dense, stifling, almost paralyzing dread of what has happened.

There is something so different in the early days

You can feel yourself changing

Hyper alertness or vigilance is not the exact phrase

But then we have established that language often fails

But that is close.

A sense of keen awareness only you feel.

No one can tell as they see you as depressed, anxious and grieving.

And you are.

But somewhere in there

Is this sixth sense that I named synchroclaritygrief

Somehow amidst unbearable pain, lives this very clear, crisp awareness of you becoming a different you.

Of you changing at the cell level.

What is that?

And then…. Sometime later…. Not sure when…. You begin to feel it fade. And one day it is somehow absorbed into your cells. I have no better language for it than this.

Except – I wonder how to achieve that crisp, clear sense without the pain.

And I wonder if that is one of the messages of pain?

To take you to the cell level of yourself.

Words elude me.

 

IT’S LIKE

It’s like walking on a floor you can’t see

Like a sense there is nothing behind you

Like wandering through the woods lost .. yet you know you are not

It’s like being five years old and needing something desperately but there is no one to ask for it

It’s like the uncontrollable instinct to share the happenings of life and a deep core of emptiness…. when you know cannot

It’s like a mild panic and deep hole way down in the core of your being

The hole in the depth of you

 

I SIT

I sit

I breathe

Feel the sun on my skin as if it were the first time

The air is so light, birds confirm life

I breathe again

It is as close as one can get to a refresh button

My cells ache

I move and breathe and complete mundane tasks

I conquer crisis and complex political frenzies of humanity

My cells ache and I am tired

I hold, and hold and hold

You interact with me and have no idea

There are few descriptive words

Only God knows those words and this ache

The.only.certainty.ever. God knows. No human gets it.

Comfort is elusive and often kept very private from humans. Often has to be stolen from the day.

Feel the rain on my face as if it can wash away something – another refresh button.

Sun, rain, birds, wind ….my cells say… more please.

April 2014

LITTLE DARTS

Little darts floating all around.

Small pointy, hurtful things.

Thrown out without notice and

With no malice or intent.

They glide along my skin searching

And then somewhere in some pore they are able to get in.

Once in, the immediate response is a thud like feeling in your gut.

Memories arrive, unwelcomed but floods do not require an invitation.

Eyes fill – or you fight to stop that part, until later.

They do their work and then somehow settle in or leave.

Your mom, your conflict, your loss, your pain.

Your dad, your issues, yours.

Nothing to do with me, yet in proximity, the darts find their way in.

Stirring, kicking and unsettling the dust.

And I know.it.is.normal.

So how long am I a dartboard?

And what is my prize when the center is hit?

 

GOING HOME

I walk through you

My own need

Admiring the new-ness of you

Getting ready to say goodbye

A few months ago, I walked through you

And reflected on your age and legacy

While reflecting in the home you were

I am flooded by the fact

There’s no more “going HOME”

There’s only “I’m going home now – small letters”

No more core location that draws us all there

No more “going home for the holiday”

No more going home for a weekend to visit my folks

There are other places

But no more “going HOME, big letters”

 

TENDER DAYS

Dear life,

It’s been a year and you want me to sit in meetings all day

Look at slides and listen to the tone of excitement and be joyful

I do have joy in my life

But today, really?  And tomorrow MORE MEETINGS after I make it through today?

You offer me no solace, no comfy soothing element…just meetings.

Today I want a blanket and a cup of coffee and time.

So I skip out mid-way and make it happen.

Taking care of the orphan is all I know how to do on days like this.

 

AUGUST 11 – SEPTEMBER 2 – SECOND TIME AROUND

Hard days, not as bad as least year

Still hard

I remember everything looked so different in the world during and after these days forever etched on my heart

Now some days I live the experience during these days for moments at a time – you may never notice

Other days out of the blue I am swept away by a grief wave

The crispness like a ring you grab off the old merry go rounds with no prize at the end except the strain on your arm from the reach

The pain, dulled slightly and morphed into an ache that halts you in your tracks and makes you face facts

The childlike desire to crawl under a blanket until September 3

The need for space and connection all at the same time

It’s like a stillness so deep in your core, it will not be ignored or “busy-ed” away

You work, play, laugh, plan ahead and function

All the while stalled inside as you travel an orphan’s journey.

 

WHEN YOUR TURN COMES

When your turn comes

Please know it may not be like mine

I make no assumptions about my grief being the template

There was no perfection in my family, there were

Times when I did not want to be around my parents

Times when being away was gooood and refreshing

Our family has its warts and history and sorrows.

My parents were real people with real people problems.

I do know one thing…

Like that fade effect that you can choose for transitions in your powerpoint slides, fade is real over time.

Facts remain the same.  No glossy finish needed.

Reality was still reality.

For me, it has been amazing to realize that not one painful memory or family legacy has stopped or altered my loss.

It is what it is.  I am an orphan with words to share all my own.

And when your turn comes, may some of the words echo.

 

 

Pam Reese Comer

2015

 

 

 

 

 

 

An orphan’s road