Around & Around

There is a saying in the grief world that “one moves forward” after the death of a loved one rather than moving on. The latter implies that you are leaving that person in the past rather than going forth with the spirit of that person into the future. That sort of thing seems like splitting hairs to me when for the longest time I couldn’t move at all.

I tend to grip tightly to the thought that I am stuck in grief, in life, in everything. I bring this up in therapy all the time until at a recent session my therapist listed all the things I’ve accomplished since Mark died. “And on top of that,” she said, “you went through a pandemic.” Her list surprised me because I am moving in ways I have not acknowledged. Though it may not be in the way I want or as fast as I want, I haven’t settled for stagnation which is an easy place to stake your tent when your world turns upside down.

I recently went on a date and as a chronic overthinker I am surprised at how much I underthought that decision. Said sure why not and my young, single coworkers said, “Way to put yourself out there, Kath, good on you,” and I said good on me right back to me and met this man at a dance performance. Having two daughters who danced through high school, and one who majored in it in college, I have been to more dance performances than I could count. Ballet, tap, modern, hip hop, all the dances, and so I sat down next to this man in the second row of a theatre, and in the universe’s way of saying I see what you’re trying to do here, one of Mark’s colleagues was sitting right in front of us which upended any confidence I may have thought I had. We exchanged pleasantries, said it was good to see each other, while my brain frantically repeated shit shit shit a couple of hundred times. The dance started and it wasn’t long before I thought how much Mark would have loved it, how it being a Friday night and being tired, I would have laid my head on his shoulder and rested, how we would have talked about it all the way home. Instead I kept wondering if I was crossing and uncrossing my legs too much, why was it so bloody hot, and if it would be rude for me to lean over and whisper, “You seem nice but I can’t do this tonight,” and got up and left.

But when I make a bad decision I dig in my heels and go all out. I stayed and smiled weakly at Mark’s coworker when it was over, met a few friends of my date, and went to the reception afterwards. He walked me to the parking garage and when he saw my car said he had the exact same one. I wanted to ask him if he had a dead spouse, too, because then we would have two things in common. Once inside I rested my head on the steering wheel for a few minutes, exhausted in every way. When I told my therapist about the night she asked me if it made me cry and I told her it should have, everything was in place for a good cry, but I was too tired to even do that.

I recently read that grief is stagnant and it is joy that comes in waves. In a tidal wave of joy, my daughter and her husband, after having two miscarriages and many dark valleys, gave birth to a baby boy last month. I was on duty as Grandma Doubtfire for a few days and was woefully out of practice to wrangle myself, two kids, and a dog in the morning in any sort of timely manner. The first day Walter went off to preschool and Mabel was on spring break so I told her we needed to go to my favorite store because my birthday coupon was about to expire. She got herself dressed in leggings and a mermaid tshirt. When I said to her, “You good now? Need anything else before we go,” she thought it over for a hard minute and said, “Oh yeah, I forgot something,” pulled her rainbow tutu out of the drawer, and my gay pride little mermaid and I got in the car and headed off.

There was no news of a baby yet and behind me in her booster seat Mabel said, “Mimi, do you want to know what I think?” I said of course I did and she said, “I think this baby happened because Boompa and my baby sister who died knew how sad my mommy and daddy were. I think they sent this baby to us so we’d be less sad because they’re not here.” It took me a minute to gain my composure to speak and when I did I said, “I think you’re right, Mabel. I think those two did have something to do with your new brother, and aren’t we so happy they helped us?” She continued her gaze out the window and said, “Yeah, I think they’re in the stars working together.”

There is no amount of time that will diminish the what ifs and if onlys with some losses. That’s the deal we make with life and it seems like a fair trade until the reality of it knocks on our door. Death’s echo can be excruciatingly loud when you’re bravely trying to crawl out of the darkness of the valley. Meanwhile, the unseen is alive and moving around us in ways a seven year old in a rainbow tutu understands far better than me.