Shell here!
A question that might appear sometimes regarding grief is, “how does one handle grief?” As I type this, I really took the time to sit with this question. For me, this question leads to more questions such as, “How does one handle double grief? How does one handle triple grief, both known as compound grief?” I wish I had the answers for you. I wish had the magic pill, the right amount of pixie dust or that I could take away all the pain each of us feel when living with grief/compound grief. I am only able to share my experience in hopes that maybe one person out there reading this doesn’t feel alone in their pain.
2014 was a rough year for us, and it is one I hope I never have to repeat. I knew in 2013 that my husband was going to eventually die from stage four pancreatic cancer, but I did not know when. Living every day after his diagnoses was scary to me. Every day the question would be in the back of my mind, is today the day he dies? Always living in fight or flight for fifteen months was quite a difficult
time frame for me.
I always knew that at some point in my lifetime my father would die. We know that if life gives us the natural order of things, we watch our grandparents die first. Then years go by, we grow up more and then we get to the age where we watch our parents decline, knowing that one day they will die too. It is the natural order of life, right? Yet when they die unexpectedly, the natural order is wrong, our grief is out of control and the process feels completely wrong! We feel cheated out of the natural order of life.
I will never forget the very last conversation I had with my father before he died. My husband was home on hospice and I was devastated. I looked into my dad’s deep green eyes as tears rolled down my cheeks. He grabbed my hand and I said, “Dad, how am I going to go on without Art? What is going to happen to Jay and I. Dad, I am scared”. He started to cry with me, and he said to me, “Whatever happens I will be here for you and Jay, always!” I believed him! I was so frightened, but I felt some comfort knowing that Jay and I had my dad after Art died. He said he would be here for us and I believed him!
One week later, as my husband was somehow still alive on hospice, my mother phoned me. She sounded weird to me but then again, at this time in my life everything felt off; my husband was dying in our living room. She said to me, “I can’t wake your father!”. I stood there in shock and asked what the heck did she mean, she can’t wake my father. Wake him up! I couldn’t understand why she was being so nonchalant about it, no panic in her voice and she almost sounded irritated. I asked her how long he had been sleeping and she informed me that she got up at 7am and it was now noon. My father was always up by 8am every day and she waited till noon to call me. I was agitated with her, but I had to calm down and instruct her to hang up the phone and call 911, and I would be right there. Then I remembered, I couldn’t leave. MY HUSBAND WAS DYING ON HOSPICE I WAS HIS CARETAKER!
Hospice arranged to have a nurse to come to our home. I grabbed Jay and we went to the emergency room. Here I was stuck in another situation, explaining to my daughter once more that someone was sick. Jay didn’t want to leave her dad, but I had to go see what was going on with my dad and we had no one to watch Jay. It was all so crazy, and I have no idea how we survived any of this. My father had a massive stroke on both sides of the stem of his brain. He was asleep and uncontrollably snoring because of the massive stroke. I would say this was the hardest thing I had ever seen, but my husband was home dying, so this was just unbelievable to me. I only had the hospice nurse for a couple hours and I had to get home to tend to my husband. Jay and I were deeply saddened to see my dad and her papa in this state. The two men who we love so much were both dying right in front of our eyes! How could this be happening? He said he was going to be here for us, and I believed him.
I was able to see my dad one more time before my husband died. I sat in his hospital room as he was hooked up all to these machines, watching his lifeless body just lay there. Knowing he was going to die but wondering who was going to die first, Art or my dad? My dad did open his eyes and I was able to tell him I love him, and a tear rolled down his face. That was the last time I saw my dad. Being at the hospital was difficult, and my mother with her entourage made it even more difficult. I was treated like I was not my father’s daughter, my uncle would mansplain to me, and anything I wanted for my dad was ignored. It was an impossible situation, from husband dying at home to my father dying in a hospital.
One week later at 2:30 am Jay and I watched Art take his final breath and leave his body. It was just the three of us and were frightened, saddened, and relieved all at the same time. Art did not die peacefully; it was horrific experience for all of us. He was in so much pain, his breathing was heavily labored, and his body was shaking. Jay held his hand, and I had my hands on his head telling him how much we love him and that it was okay to let go. Eventually he stopped fighting and took one huge inhale in and that was it; he was gone. Jay and I closed his eyes with tears rolling down our faces. We held his hand and held each other as our home became extremely silent and filled with death.
One week later, while Jay and I were away, hospice called me and told me my father was going home to die. Hospice kept in touch with me almost daily about what was happening with my dad. It was an exceedingly difficult situation for us to be in. I wanted to be there for my dad, but it wasn’t a situation I wanted to put my daughter in. Plus, I knew my dad would have never wanted us to see him like that. Hospice told me over and over again that my dad was not coherent in any way and he would never know if we were there or not. One night I struggled because I knew my dad was dying and I wanted to see him. I went back and forth in the hotel room, grabbing my purse and keys and saying to Jay let’s go see Papa. Then I would stop and sit down and stare out into the ocean and my body would freeze because deep down I didn’t want to go watch my dad die; I just watched my husband die! I did this probably ten times before Jay finally grabbed my arm as we were by the door heading out and said to me, “Mom, take it from me, you don’t want to watch your dad die!” That is when I fell to the floor in a sobbing mess holding Jay in my arms. My heart was shattered because Jay just watched her father die and I my dad was dying and I didn’t know what to do. I knew that I couldn’t take Jay to watch one more person we love die!
Hospice called me and they knew us pretty well by then, and the nice lady said over and over again for us to not go watch my dad die. A person can only handle so much and they promised to take care of my dad. Eleven thirty that night my mother phoned me and she said she was holding my dad’s hand and she thinks he is dead. I had to hang up with her real quick to call hospice so they could get to the house. Then I phoned my mother back staying on the phone with her until hospice arrived. When they arrived the lady we knew came on the phone and confirmed my dad had passed away. Jay was in the other room when all this went down. All I could think was, my dad is dead and now I have to go tell my daughter her papa is dead. It broke my heart into a million pieces. Once again, I have to give bad news to our beautiful daughter, and I had no idea how to even process any of this at the time. It was as if we were living in a nightmare and we couldn’t wake up. How could both our guys be dead?
How do you handle compound grief? Good question! I ignored my fathers death for over a year. In my mind he was home working in his garden and doing simply fine. He was just too busy so we left him alone. That is how my mind and heart handled compound grief. My mother and I were never close and she had her entourage that felt sorry for her, so she didn’t need me. Anytime I did try to be there for her it ended badly.
Fast forward to August 2nd 2017, and my mother died from colon cancer. More compound grief for Jay and I to learn to live with. The one good thing that did come from my mother’s passing was that we finally were able to have a proper funeral for my dad. My mother never had a funeral for my dad. His ashes just sat in his urn on his desk in his room. My father was in the military, so we were able to have a military funeral for him. It was nicely done and I am grateful to this day we were able to properly put my father to rest. My mother’s ashes are buried next him at the cemetery. We did the funeral for both of them on the same day; it was quiet and simple, but eloquently done. For me, it was more about being able to say good bye to my dad, which I had not been able to do since he passed away. It made his death real, it made my grief real and it allowed me to finally grieve the loss of my dad.
Here it is July 2020 and in one month my mother will be gone for three years on August 2nd. Grieving my mother has been completely different than grieving my husband or dad. My entire life I grieved my mother because I grieved for a mother I could never have. My mother and I were never close and she had some serious baggage that she never dealt with. My mother didn’t know how to love because she never loved herself. She was angry all the time and was an alcoholic. Here I am three years later, and I am able to say that I forgive my mother for all the evil things she has done to me. I am sad that she was never able to love herself and live the life she deserved. Her death was horrific, and it saddens me that her life ended that way she lived.
Compound grief: grieving the loss of my husband who I will love forever, grieving the loss of my dad who I will also love forever, grieving the loss of a mother who was never able to be the mom I deserved growing up. My mother taught me one thing in life, how to be a great mom to Jay. Jay is my entire world and I would never do anything to harm her in any way. Although I was never able to have a close relationship with my mother, I have an amazing relationship with Jay. There is no other person in this world that I want to walk this grief journey with other than Jay.
I still do not have the answer to, “how do you handle grief/ compound grief?” What I do know is that grief is not easy. Grief is different for everyone. There is no wrong way to grieve. There are no rules to grieving. For me, I just try each and every day to honor my husband and dad. I have learned over the six years that the extreme pain I felt the first year is not as powerful this year. I don’t think the pain truly goes away, I think you just learn to adapt and live with the grief. The grief becomes a part of you and your journey. I still have some pretty rough days, but they seem to get farther and farther apart. My love for my husband and dad has never died. Sometimes I think we fear that our love for them will fade over time. I do not believe that is true. We grieve deeply because we love deeply.
One last thing I have learned over the last six years that when we suffer a loss, our bodies suffer too. I was the sole caretaker of my husband for fifteen months. Plus, I made sure Jay’s life was a normal as possible in an impossible situation. Although I was not the one dying and I would never take away from what Art went through. Truth be told, If I was in his situation, I would have given up and went on hospice a lot sooner than he did. I cannot stand throwing up and will do anything to avoid it. Art threw up every single day for fifteen months; to this day, I still have no idea how he endured that daily. I know he loved us deeply and fought like crazy to stay here on earth. Art is our hero and a strong man who fought the good fight out of his love for us. I still love him, but let’s face it, I would have chickened out and gone on hospice. It doesn’t mean I love him any less, it just means that I hate throwing up! I am a strong woman, but nope, I would not have endured what he did. Nor will I ever take care of another man for the rest of my life. Would I take care of Art again? You bet! But we both know in reality people do not resurrect from the dead; therefore, this redo would not be real and what-ifs do not exist.
But as I was saying, when we suffer great loss our bodies suffer too. What I have learned slowly over the last six years is how I need to take care of my body. I have noticed that big stressful events take a quicker toll on my body than it used to. My body is strong but equally fragile. I have to remember that my body reacts to things differently now. I am currently going through some things right now and it reminded me how important it is to take care of our bodies. I will have another blog post on this shortly. But for now, if you have suffered loss and you’re grieving, be gentle and kind to your body. Your body feels everything you are going through. Emotions are high, emotions are felt deeply during the grieving in proses. Our bodies have one job at the end of the day: to keep us alive. Nourish your body, be kind to it and grant it some grace as it grieves along with you. I know it is not easy; trust me, I know this as I am still learning six years later! But it is worth it to be kind to yourself. Grief takes a toll on your emotions and your body. Grant both of these your kindness and understanding as you grieve each day.
How do you handle grief/compound grief? My personal six-year experience is one of grieving slowly, one day at a time with kindness and compassion to your emotions and your body.
You are not alone in your grief. Jay and I are grieving with you!
Aloha and gratitude,
Jay and Shell
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