A few months ago, we watched “WandaVision.” At first, I thought it was just a fun little palate cleanser as we usually watch rather dark shows. But, then, it took a turn toward the dark, too. I’m not going to say anymore than that. At some point in the movie, one of the characters says, “What is grief, if not love persevering?” Isn’t it ironic a show based upon a Marvel character would have such a profound quote. I originally wrote this back in March but never finished it. I’m finishing it on the 51st anniversary of my dad’s death. Today, the 2nd, I woke up early and thought, “Dad was still alive right now.” He died sometime after 8:00am.
Grief…
In 1969, Elisabeth Kübler-Ross wrote On Death & Dying. In it, she outlined the five stages of grieving. Some people believe quite strongly in these stages while others argue it’s too rigid and doesn’t leave room for flexibility. Kübler-Ross “with colleague David Kessler in On Grief and Grieving, cautioned that the stages ‘are not stops on some linear timeline in grief. Not everyone goes through all of them or in a prescribed order (source).'” So, what are those stages? Here they are in the order Kübler-Ross originally presented them:
- Denial
- Anger
- Bargaining
- Depression
- Acceptance
My experience…
I’ve experienced lots of grief in my life as I’m sure many of you have. I think my first experience was when my Grandpa Rose died. I remember him as being funny and ornery. Was he really that way? I’m not sure. I was in second grade when he died. There was a period of years, from 1972 until 1977 (I think), when I lost someone each year. The most important during that time was my dad and ended with my Grandpa Luderman’s death in 1977. I must have been a morbid person because no one else in our family noticed this pattern.
My dad…
Dad had a heart attack on December 2, 1973. At that time, in our area, bed rest was prescribed. I know he took nitroglycerin during that time, but I’m not aware of anything else. He’d had his first heart attack at age 38…I know…that’s really young. Like the first time, he was in hospital for several weeks. When he came home after the second heart attack, we all thought he’d recover as he had with the first. But, he never seemed to regain his strength. Finally, his doctor sent him to the Cleveland Clinic where he spent what seemed to me many days. I was 16 at the time and the oldest still at home. Mom spent most of that time in Cleveland. After he came home, we kept waiting for the turnaround in his health. It never came. Mom finally called his doctor who told her Dad wouldn’t be recovering. There was nothing to be done for him. He was too weak to even consider a heart transplant. In other words, we were just playing a waiting game with Death. I was the only one Mom told. This was in April, 1974.
Grief…
Grief doesn’t necessarily begin with death. It can begin much earlier. I now recognize I was already grieving my dad’s imminent death. I did begin with denial, but it was hard to deny death was near. Dad was steadily losing weight and struggled to breathe. It would be a long time before I didn’t hear him gasping for breath as he lay in the bedroom closest to mine. Then, I moved to bargaining. I prayed each and every night that, if someone had to die, let it be me. I was trying so damn hard to convince God that my dad needed to live, and I was ready to go in his place. One would think I had skipped over anger. One would be wrong.
Anger…
I have probably written about Dad’s last days before so I’ll not write much about that. On July 1, 1974, he was delirious and really struggling. In those days, our hospital didn’t have an ambulance. Ironically enough, the funeral homes were the places with ambulances. I will never ever forget when the ambulance arrived. Keith K (who has since passed) was wheeling Dad out of the house on a gurney. He gently asked, “Are you comfortable, Jim?” To this day, that question, that kindness, the thought that Keith was so caring makes me sob. My dad was so out of it; he had no idea where he even was. That night, Nigel sat with me outside Dad’s hospital room, listening to those awful gasps for breath. I cried into a towel because otherwise I would have howled. So, yeah, I was angry. I was angry at the doctor who didn’t do something earlier about my dad’s health, who didn’t push him harder to go to the Cleveland Clinic, who didn’t tell my mom how bad Dad was getting. And, I was angry at God for not taking me up on my bargain. My dad was so much more worthwhile as a human being than I was.
Depression and acceptance…
I was almost seventeen when Dad died. I didn’t know what depression was. To this day, I think I may have skipped that step. I was determined not to be sad when I started my Junior year of high school. I didn’t want to be “That girl whose dad died this summer.” What did happen was that I lost my faith. So, maybe I was depressed, and I just didn’t know it. I can’t tell you when I accepted Dad’s death. There were many nights Mom couldn’t sleep, and we would go out to the cemetery just to be near him. I got married two years later, and I remember feeling sad he wasn’t the one walking me down the aisle. It’s been almost 51 years since his death, and I’m still not sure about the acceptance. I know he’s gone; he never met my kids. He didn’t know I went to college, became a teacher, and retired. There is so much he didn’t get to know about my life. More importantly, there was so much I didn’t know about his life. The one thing I did know was he didn’t like the color blue. I only discovered that when he refused to buy a blue car because he didn’t like that color. His suit and coffin were both blue.
Why now…
Honestly, when I started writing this, I was thinking about my Westie, Pete. The anniversary of his death was February 24th. He was the strangest little guy, but he loved me with all his heart. He would cuddle up against me under the covers at night. When Pete was happy, he’d do this strange hop with a wiggle in between. When he was irritated, he had this little purring sound that meant leave me the heck alone! He would chase Max, our older Westie, around and around the backyard, soaring over the gravel path. Pete loved to scratch his back on the round boxwood bush. He loved to do that so much that no leaves grew on those bottom branches. I’ll never forget his sad little face as the vet carried him away from me. I didn’t know it would be the last time, and I didn’t know I could have gone with him to hold him as that last breath left his body. I didn’t have time to go through all those stages of grief because shortly after Pete died, Max was diagnosed with diabetes and almost died. It seems like that spring was one spent in tears. In many ways, I’m still processing the grief from the death of these two.
Grief…
Grief isn’t just about the death of a loved one. It’s also about the loss of a job, or a friend (through death, distance, or disagreement), or a home. I’m sure my grief about moving almost ten years ago is nothing compared to the grief of those who lost not just homes but everything in Hawaii, North Carolina, and California as well as around the world. The thing with grief is it’s not something that ever fully ends. It’s just a journey with little oases of peace. My mom died 21 years ago February 18th. There are still days when I start to pick up my phone just to tell her something. I forget, too, Mom died before emailing, texting, and the proliferation of cell phones. So, I’m not sure I’ve reached the stage of acceptance yet.
The outfit…
I bought this Spense top years ago at Von Maur or Nordstrom. There are two distinct layers to the front with the back being longer. If you squint at the print, you might think they were birds. I bought the denim jacket last year, I think, from Gap. I like that it’s the lady jacket shape but in denim form. The pants are from Loft. They remind me of my very first pair of bell bottoms which were navy and had a daisy print.
The Lewk!
I don’t remember who (sorry) wrote a post about wearing multiple brooches, but I immediately went in search of some. The ones I have didn’t quite work with this particular lewk. The one with the bird is from Anthropologie, and the other was on clearance from J Jill. The earrings are old and are Kendra Scott. These shoes, though! I love them! They are the adidas Samba OG sneakers in cream white/violet/sand. I never thought I’d be so on board with the sneaker trend. I think, after a bit of wearing them, I’ll probably need to add my own orthotics. Right now, though, they’re comfortable and cute!
Wrap it up, Marsha!
Mom never told Dad what his doctor had told her after the trip to Cleveland. He often talked with her about the trips they were going to take when he was well. Neither Mom nor I ever knew if he realized he was dying and was trying to make her feel better. Or, did he really not realize the severity of his health? So, can we talk? How do you handle grief? Do you believe in the stages of grief? What do you really think about wide leg pants? Please leave me a comment or two, and we can talk. I promise to respond as quickly as I can.
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Marsha, what a burden to bear for you to be the only child who knew how serious your dad’s health situation was. I’m sad to think you wanted to bargain and take his place instead. So much for a young person. I wonder what you would say to your 16 year old self now if you could?
Since it’s grown in popularity, I think Hospice has been helpful in situations like this. I know when my dad was sick and I was in the hospital room with my parents, the nurse practitioner was saying there was nothing else that could be done and that hospice was an option. My mom – who was in major denial – kept pushing for him to do respiratory therapy. It was not what he wanted to do and I knew that. I asked him and he said “I just want to go home and be with my family.” I grabbed my mom and looked her in the eye and told her what he wanted. My mom is the type of person who will just roll over you, she can be so pushy and I was not having it. My dad was so relieved when we signed the hospice paperwork.
I cried my heart out of course and did so on many occasions during the coming months. But I was so grateful for this time and the knowledge that despite looking good my dad was not well. I know he hung around for the holidays and his birthday and then decided on February 17th enough was enough.
I believe those stages of grief are correctly identified but I don’t think we go through them in order and I don’t think we can ever say we have moved past one stage or another for good – they pop up at different times.
As a therapist – especially when I worked in oncology – Kubler Ross’ stages provided a nice framework for putting groups together and giving loved ones some guidelines. Sometimes we just need something to do and something to focus on – so I feel they are beneficial.
While my dad was sick I decided I was sick and tired of grieving him while he was still alive so I made a conscious effort to wake up each day – and say “My dad is alive today and I am going to enjoy him” – I had to live in the moment and in some degree deny that the end was near. They were some of the best days with him and I saw a more tender side of him. He had the very best sense of humor and would always say when visitors were leaving – see ya later, or maybe not! Ha! Even when he was finally admitted to the hospice unit – his last 24 hours of life – he was joking. The team went in to evaluate him and the Dr. said, “Hi Mr. O’Donnell, I’m Dr. Knight.” My dad, without missing a beat (eyes still closed) said, “And I’m Dr. Day” – the whole team stopped and said did he just say what we think he said? They cracked up. That was my dad though, bringing humor to tough times. We were so happy they shared that with us because then we knew that they knew how special he was to us.
Okay, this is way too long and now I have tears in my eyes – darn you grief!
xo,
Kellyann
Kellyann, you’ve brought a smile to my face through my tears! I can tell your dad was a truly special person! My mom was in denial, I think. She honestly had no one else to tell. My oldest sister had gotten married in April. It’s so apparent, when we look at her wedding photos, and see Dad walking her down the aisle, he was very sick. I have never ever heard a bad thing about hospice. I think special people work in these kinds of jobs and have the heart for it. I love that you spent those last days and months loving your dad and getting to know him better. I wish I’d been thinking those things. But, at 16 or 17 (I have that totally blocked), you’re just not that smart. As for what I would tell my 16 year old self…I don’t really know. I did lose my faith for several years even though I went to church and got married in the church. It wasn’t until I had my first son that I realized the “Plan.” If I’d died, my children and grandchildren wouldn’t have been born. But, there is still a part of me that would have done anything (but sell my soul) to keep my dad alive. I wish I’d known of Kubler-Ross during those days, but I doubt I would have read it because I was bound and determined there was nothing wrong with me. I was terribly wrong about that, of course. Thank you, my friend, for your beautiful words.
Oh Marsha what a sad but lovely post. I do know about the feeling of people dying the one after the other.My father died in 1973, my mother in 1976, and my sister died unexpectedly 3 years later. So I really felt – who’s next? Actually I didn’t grieve all that much (being honest) about my parents although there were occasions when you just weep because they are not there. But my sister’s death was awful as it was so unexpected. I was ill, physically ill afterwards for 2 years. I was just overwhelmed with grief. I just dragged myself around. Probably that was depression. Anyway one recovers, but I mourn the loss of my sister to this day.
Now because of the age I am (!) I have friends and people I’ve known for long time, dying. Most from cancers I have to say. I write their names down in a book. When I count two of my relatives ( a cousin younger than me, actually I forgot, it’s 2 cousins) the score is 15 people. That’s a lot. I particularly mourn a friend I hadn’t seen since before Covid. I was only told after her death, I was so shocked. Because you see although I hadn’t seen her for some time, I still thought I could. That’s why I wrote the post – Connection is everything. We do need to nurture our friendships, particularly at my age.
I think the Kubler-Ross stages are useful but not always exactly how people react. I love the multiple broaches, I’ve just written about having multiple necklaces. I think wearing things like that is fun. And let’s remember we need to remember the fun times we had with people who are gone – and have fun ourselves!
Thank you for this lovely post.
Oh, Penny! Your comment reminded me of something. We have some friends who are dealing with elderly parents and having to place them in assisted living facilities. In some ways, Mike and I have bypassed that particular heartache, and yet, I think of the years I lost with both my parents. Mike’s were older when they passed. You are so very right…connection is everything. I am a shy person so my connections are few but mighty. I am making new friends at the museum, but it will be years before they are really good friends.
I loved your post and think multiple necklaces with that black outfit will be just amazing! And, you are just the person to pull it off! Thank you so much for your thoughtful comments, Penny.
Grief can creep up on you years after a loss, it can stay with you hidden or maybe pushed away and suddenly jump out when you least expect it. Or you can be like me and try to lose it without success. I don’t always grieve for long, for my mother the moment was just right and I know she had been so ready, so I made my peace with that, but sometimes I wonder why a loss was so untimely, so sudden, so mean and that’s what I struggle with if it gets triggered by something.
A sad post, but a lovely one.
Feel yourself hugged.
Thank you for the hugs, Cat! I have tried for many decades to lose this grief, but I do think it’s captured in the quote I shared. It’s just a form of love persevering. I knew my mom was ready, too. The thing was, I wasn’t ready for her to leave. I had to make the decision to let her go as she’d stopped breathing, and they didn’t know for how long. She had orders not to resuscitate, but I guess they call the POA anyway. I have lost students suddenly, and those are so, so hard. You always think, “I should have seen the signs. I should have done something. I should have…” Consider yourself hugged, too, my friend.
You were so young. Grief is hard enough when we have the wisdom to process and learn but at that age, its so raw.
Well we won’t watch that movie then…thanks for the warning.
Love the mix and prints and the collection of brooches…reminds me of when I wore brooches instead of buttons.
Xoxo
Jodie
Thanks, Jodie! I wish I could remember who wore several brooches on their jacket. I just loved that look. I really should write things like that down. Oh, do watch the series. It’s really good…weird, but good. I wrote that quote down as soon as I heard it and knew I would write a post someday. I think I really put grief on the back burner for many, many years. Every year, around this time, I get moody. It took me a while to realize why. It doesn’t help that we buried Dad on the Fourth of July. I haven’t really celebrated with any kind of joy since.
Thank you for this powerful post, Marsha. It got me thinking about the people I have lost…and still grieve at times. I love the quote you shared: “What is grief, if not love persevering?” My love definitely perseveres. The first time I was deeply, personally touched by death was when I lost my grandfather while I was a young adult. Strangely, I felt shock to realize someone I loved so dearly could be gone from this earth. Of course, intellectually I knew this, but my heart had no idea. As for grieving someone before they are gone, I experienced that with my mother as her health deteriorated and she moved into a care center. I’ve also been stung by sudden death, when my youngest brother was hit and killed by a man in a car while he was innocently walking his dog on the sidewalk. That brings a whole new set of emotions and steps to the grieving process. Through each of these experiences, I knew that I was blessed to have loved someone so much that their passing could cause that level of grief.
Thank you, Christie. You’ve said it so well…your heart has no idea. I’m so very sorry for the loss of your brother and your mom. Mike’s dad passed away in his sleep a few years later. He just went to bed and never woke up. I’ve always wondered which is worse…the lingering death or the sudden and unexpected death. I think, probably, they’re equally bad. It is a blessing to have loved someone so much. I did leave out a major point in my post…ask the important questions and discover who your people are before they’re gone, and it’s too late. There’s so much I honestly don’t know about my dad. I did ask my mom’s sister if he was as good as I thought. She wasn’t the nicest of people, but she told me he truly was a wonderful person. That meant the world to me because it just solidified what I thought. Thank you for your comment, Christie. I really hesitated to write this post, but your response helps me to think it was a good idea.
How sad it is that you wished that you were taken instead of your dad. And what a heavy weight to carry at such young age. The first person I lost was my grandfather. I could not believe that he was going to die. I thought he would be in my life forever, what was I thinking…. but I was completely lost when he died. I loved that man so much. My father past away 2,5 years ago. And I miss him so much. Especially now with the transplant etc. I want to share that with him. And now I also have tears rolling over my cheek, yeah you know how to make us happy girl! Lol. Thanks for this beautiful story.
Aww, Nancy, I’m so sorry for making you cry. Grief and loss are so difficult to process at any time. I still have times I start to call my mom just and say, “You won’t believe this, but…” I am so very glad to have “found” you in this blogging world. You make it a brighter place.
Grief is so different for everyone . I too lost my father at a younger age , I was 17 but he was a distant father and we weren’t close so It affected me less than when my mother died a few years later. I have also experienced the loss of my daughter from a brain tumour , she was 8 years old . This rocked my world totally and you learn to live with the pain of the loss , some days better than others .
The old saying time is the best healer holds true for the process of grief.
I do really like your outfit and I am a fan of wider pants.
All the best Marsha.
Thank you for your kind words, Jill. I had no idea you had lost a child. There are no words to adequately express my sympathy. I hope you have lots of good memories to comfort you on those days when you need it.
Thank you for your sharing your journey with grief. I have been down this road and it is a tough one. I lost my first husband and dad to cancer and I went through similar stages like you with your dad. My late husband’s mother is on her last days and it brings up all the feelings when my husband died all of over again. I think we never stop processing the pain but find love in the journey. Praying for you.
https://www.kathrineeldridge.com
Oh, Kathrine…I am so sorry. I don’t think I knew about your first husband. I am so sorry about your late husband’s mother. It’s that love I try to focus on, but sometimes, the grief just hits. I’ll be praying for you as well.
That’s so much for you to take on as a teenager. I think we all go through those stages of grief, but I think those stages happen at different times and sometimes years later. My Dad was really sick for a long time, and watching him decline was hard, especially knowing he would never get better so that was the anger stage for me.
Jill – Doused in Pink
Thanks, Jill. At the time, I just accepted it. Looking back, I see it was a lot, but it’s the only thing I knew. I hope that makes sense. I’m so sorry about the loss of your dad. It is really hard watching that decline. I wasn’t angry at that stage because I really thought we’d have a miracle…as teenagers do.
Hugs my friend. This post was so vulnerable, thank you for trusting us with your stories.
Thank you, Erin. I probably overshare…I’m a chronic oversharer!
Hi Marsha, somehow you’ve managed to mix grief in with your fashion/style and done it wonderfully well. It’s so sad losing a parent and you were very young too. I feel for you even after all this time and the impact the loss has on you. Your words are beautiful and tell a wonderful story. Sending hugs xx
Thank you so much, Debbie! I appreciate that you understood the feelings and emotions behind my post.
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Marsha, I can relate to your story so well. I was 18 when my father was diagnosed with lung cancer. The doctors told us he had 6 months to live and we never told my father that information. He lived for 18 months after that diagnosis. I was 20 years old when he died and I have always felt that I was deprived of getting to know my father as an adult. The stages of grief are real but I agree that we definitely do them in our own time and method. Like you said, many of us have experienced lots of grief including myself and one thing that I have learned is that there is no right or wrong way to grieve, you just have to get yourself through it one way or another. My husband and children never got to meet either of my parents which always makes me sad, but I keep them alive with an abundance of stories! This is a beautiful post, my friend. Sending you lots of hugs!
Shelbee
Thank you, Shelbee! Luckily, Mike was able to meet both of my parents, and my kids spent lots and lots of time with my mom before she passed. Grief is so strange because you go along thinking you’re fine, and then, BAM! You get hit by a fresh wave of it. I wish I had thought to ask Dad so many different things. I just had this superficial knowledge of him. Hugs to you, my friend, as you navigate this world without them.
Thank you for sharing this. My contribution is that if someone is struggling with grief, having counselling or talking to someone experienced with bereavement can be incredibly helpful. Three years ago, I lost a friend when her life was taken; I wasn’t massively close to her but I did spend time with her and discussed the person who took her life with her when she feared for them. When she died there was some really prurient reporting from local news outlets to her which was awful, and I had real trouble dealing with it. When that went on too long, I contacted Cruse Bereavement Care (in the UK) and had a shortish text chat with them which helped so much. They helped me realise I was “allowed” to grieve for her even though she had closer friends, and encouraged me to set up a little ritual to remember her by. So every year on the anniversary of her passing, I light a candle, think of her, photograph the lit candle and use it as my photo of the day, and (importantly) offer it as something for other people to meditate on or use to know they are thought of in their grief, too. It really does help.
Thank you, Liz! I think you are right about counseling; I just didn’t recognize it at the time. And, my mom was kind of checked out for a few years right after Dad died. I am so sorry you had this experience. I’m glad you were able to connect with someone and have come up with this ritual. I like that, and I think I’ll adopt that, too. I do know I start getting down a few days before the deaths of people (and pets) dear to me. This would be really helpful. Thank you, again, for your comment and your suggestions.
Gosh that is such a difficult experience to go through at such a young age! I’m so sorry! On the whole, I am relatively blessed to have so many relatives still living and in good health without anyone so close to me passing yet. You are definitely right about grief not being limited to people either.
Thank you, Laura. I honestly didn’t realize how much I was going through when I was going through it. It was only when I became an adult I realized just how much that informed my life.