Skip to main content

Saying Goodbye

In the beginning of this journey, I read everything I could find on grief. Each book said the same thing. It mentioned the many stages of grief and how it is a process one must go through. There was no hope. No guidance for the future. Reading those books, I could not imagine how I was supposed to live in this grieving process for the rest of my life. If this was how it was supposed to be, then I was going to be done on this earth. I spent my days, in a fog, just waiting to join Catherine one day. 

At one point, my grief got so bad that my husband, my doctor, and I all made an agreement that if I got to the point of no return, I would be honest and go willingly into a facility. By September 2018, I was actively looking for an inpatient facility because the pain was so incredibly intense. It was September 11, 2018 that I was informed that my position at Permobil was being eliminated. Oddly enough, it was a good feeling.

As I was trying to figure how to live this life of sadness and grief, while deciding what I wanted to do with the rest of my life, I picked up a book I had already read once. It is called "Permission to Mourn" by Tom Zuba. The first time I read it, I was only able to read one chapter at a time. This book was intense and it told me to do the exact opposite of what the other books said to do. 

One of my favorite lines in this books is, "If you are working with a therapist, counselor, social worker, grief expert, minister, priest, or anyone else who is trying to help you navigate the wilderness of grief and they start talking about the groundbreaking observations of Elizaboth Kubler-Ross, suggesting there is an orderly, predictable, unfolding of grief, please, please, please; do yourself a favor. Leave."

As I picked up the book a second time, I read it all in one night. And then I read it again and again and again. This Tom guy seemed to know what he was talking about. He had lost 2 children and his wife. But his ideas on grief were so different. He kept introducing "a new way to do grief" and I became very interested in what he had to say. His words made sense and suddenly, life didn't seem so hopeless. And soon enough, I moved onto his second book, "Becoming Radiant." It is described as the new way to do life following the death of a beloved. As I read his second book, it all suddenly made sense. I wasn't just grieving the loss of my daughter; I was grieving the loss of EVERYTHING. My life, my future, marriage, grand kids, graduations. I was grieving the loss of my life as it was with Catherine in it. Both the present and future. I was sitting around, waiting to join my daughter. I had to say goodbye to that life. It was no more. I had to accept that the life I had with Catherine, my career, my future I had planned, it was all gone. So I said goodbye. And then I decided to begrudgingly welcome my new life. 

Within a few weeks, I felt this tremendous weight lift off of me and my heart. For the first time in over a year, food tasted SO good. I was enjoying life again. My new life. I decided that my new life did not include working in a corporate environment, trying to break some glass ceiling and climb that corporate ladder. Nope, that was out. No longer an option. I started to throw myself into our foundation, Catherine's Orchestra for All. I started reaching out to schools and administrations. Before I knew it, we had an instrument petting zoo planned for the Lebanon City elementary schools! My work continued with the foundation, helping people and bringing joy. And suddenly my drifting in life, trying to figure out the next step, came to a sudden halt. I decided I wanted to work in the nonprofit field and help people. I turned it all over to God. 

Now, all this isn't to say that I don't get sad anymore. Trust me, I do. But it is less hopeless feeling. I've invited Catherine to grace me with her presence when she so desires. Sometimes I smell her so intensely that I could swear she was right next to me. In those moments, I fight the sadness and enjoy that brief moment of Catherine. I still bury my face in the clothes in her closet. Desperately inhaling her precious smell, knowing that one day it will be gone. But I also strive to find joy. I still tear up a little but I laugh often. I share her story, my story, and it doesn't hurt as intensely. I work with children, bringing them the love of music. I find joy in watching a child get excited as they play an instrument for the first time. I smile at the girls that resemble my Catherine in elementary school. The most joyous event so far was the day LHS band students/friends of Catherine, all showed up to volunteer for the foundation at the instrument petting zoo. 

I'm still a mom. And a wife. And a daughter and sister. I adore my friends and family. Especially the ones that are patient with me. There is still a version of me, tucked away inside, waiting to come out at exactly the right moment. Saying goodbye to that life I lived and had planned was the first real step in figuring out grief and this "process" that appears to have no end. If you have lost someone you love, I suggest reading both books by Tom Zuba. It isn't specific to spouse, sibling, child, or parent. It covers it all. This new way to do grief has very likely saved my life. 



Comments

Popular posts from this blog

The Harsh Truth

In thirteen days, it will mark 4 years since Catherine died. How it can seem like it happened both yesterday and a lifetime ago continues to puzzle me. Four years later and I still struggle with accepting that it wasn’t my fault and that while I want to believe that I could save her, I’ve learned that I’m just not that powerful.  With this terrible milestone approaching, I sit here angry and doing everything in my power to not rage at parents that are spitting in the face of science and the experts that are desperately trying to save lives all because they believe they know what is best for their child. Sure, as parents we believe we know what is right for our children but we also rely on doctors, scientists, and research to ensure we are making the right decision. We are currently faced with a pandemic that went from affecting the older population and those with underlying health conditions a year ago to now affecting our children. I still see the same people saying that it is jus...

Senior Picture

When Catherine died, I wept to my dear friend about all the things I was going to miss due to her death. Prom, concerts, marching band, senior pictures, graduation, and a million other things. She graciously offered to share her daughter, my daughter's best friend, for some of those events. And she did. This school year, their senior year, I've been to band concerts and band competitions. I've carried on the sticker tradition, bringing Julia a sticker from places we go, just like Catherine would. We've done birthdays and Thanksgiving. In turn, Julia (and so many of Catherine's other friends) have stepped up in so many ways. Whether it be a comforting hug, playing the role of big sister to my boys, including me in school gossip, or sharing stories about Catherine, these kids have brought so much love and comfort to our lives as we grieve the tremendous and profound loss of our daughter. So when Julia's mother handed me a framed photo and envelope the other day,...

Project - Sunshine for Erin

I speak often of how much I love my coworkers. I love my job and everything about it. My coworkers have been there for me and my family since the day Catherine died. They started showing up the moment they found out. And since that day they have continued to be there. I'm not sure if I will ever be able to properly thank them for all they have done. God knew what he was doing when I started at Permobil.  On Monday, my coworker John asked if I was going to be at work all week. I told him that I was taking Thursday and Friday off to mentally prepare for Christmas. He said that a few of my coworkers had something for me that they wanted to deliver to the house and asked if they could come by Friday after work. I was puzzled but agreed. This morning the weather was terrible and John asked if there was any way I could come up to the office for them to give me something. It turned out to be a great idea because there were a ton of people that worked on this plan the past month and I...