Divergence

I've been thinking a lot about the experience of grief and how it can be described to someone who has never been there. I’ve tried to find an illustration that captures the totality of my journey (at least so far). There’s no shortage of them available on the internet – one, of a spiral stairway. Another, of shipwreck ruins in the middle of the sea. These images resonated to some degree with me but didn’t quite tell the whole story. I keep seeing the image of a much anticipated trip with an unexpected detour to the state of grief.  So I thought I’d share it with you. You might find it helpful for yourself or for someone else who is facing a tragic loss.

Just a few notes before I get started: First, everything that I describe here is from my perspective. As you can imagine, tragedy strikes everyone differently and each of us copes with it and processes it in our own way. Others could read this and say, “Nope. It wasn’t like that at all.” And that’s okay. I cannot presume to know their experience perfectly. So, I give you only mine.

Next, please keep in mind that this story begins with an oversimplified idea -- that of a trip. It's not the complete picture of my life before. But you all can relate to planning a trip, right? And all the preparation it can take. Some people make more of that planning, some make less of it. But we all do it. We can’t really take a trip without making plans! But while you’re making those plans, your life is going on. You are going to work. You’re visiting with friends. You’re carpooling and grocery shopping, eating family dinner and checking up on homework. There’s day-to-day life and  then there’s planning for what day-to-day life will look like down the line. They’re parallel tracks. So when I say I made plans, it’s not to the exclusion of all other life events. Quality life events were taking place AND I was making plans for the future.

And, finally, here’s something that I’ve come to appreciate in my journey: grief is not something to be endured, but something to be explored. If I’m going to thrive in my new world – not just survive -- I have to invest time and energy into understanding it. So I can’t really sum it up for you in 250 words or less. The experience is not neat and tidy, one and done. (Bummer, right?) So I’ll have to break it up into manageable chunks.  I hope you stick with me over the next few weeks as the image unfolds and all its facets are explored.

With all that said, let’s get started…

It all began with a trip. I was on an airplane that was taking me to a place in my life that I had planned to go. I’d spent a lot of time researching my destination, wondering which would be the best place for me, the right fit for my family. I wanted some place that would bring me joy and satisfaction for a very long time.  I did a lot of research -- googled, read books, discussed all of it in excruciating detail with those around me. I did my homework and felt very prepared to take steps to go in that direction.

I bought tickets and as the day of departure neared, I packed up a suitcase, booked an uber and waited excitedly to finally get on my way. It was a really amazing time.

So I had arrived at my gate without incident and boarded my flight. I was sitting in the comfort of a cushy seat (we’d planned well – I was flying first class!), my seatback and tray were in the upright position, I was relaxed and taking it all in.

This  was it! I was on my way.

“Wow,” I reveled. “This is good. This is really really good.”

But something crazy happened not long after takeoff. Instead of being approached by a pleasant face offering me coffee or tea, there was an enormous disruption -- turbulence, lots of shouting, panic, horror.

I couldn’t make sense of what was happening. And no one around me could either. Then, in the middle of it all, the chaos and its accompanying cacaphony suddenly faded away. Frantic motion blurred and all I could see in clear focus was a flight attendant who’d turned her attention away from the commotion and fixed her eyes on me. In excruciatingly slow motion and with a cool calm that chilled me to the core she moved in my direction. My heart filled with dread as she stood before me and coldly announced that my plans had been changed, I would have to leave immediately. Without expression or explanation, she ushered me from my seat, strapped a parachute onto my back, handed me a small satin satchel and shoved me out of the airplane.

Before I even had a chance to process what was being spoken I was tossed from the safety and structure of that big safe flying machine that was taking me in the direction of everything I ever wanted in my life and then I was just falling  ---- falling through the sky, careening towards the earth. There was stillness and panic all at once. My body was floating but I couldn’t forget that the ground was approaching at a high rate of speed. My mind was spinning and searching for reason and understanding.

What just happened?

Where am I going?

What am I supposed to do now?

I couldn’t spend too much time conjuring answers! I needed to do something. I remembered the parachute and struggled to engage it before it was too late to do me any good. It softened my landing ever so slightly. My crash was still a pretty big blow. I was on firm ground, sure, but I was pretty banged up. I felt pain and no pain all at once. I was still so very confused as to the circumstances that got me tossed from the plane in the first place. My mind raced, yet time stood still. My body hurt, but I was numb all over.

All around me I was surrounded by darkness. I knew it was daytime but there was little sunlight to help me make sense of my surroundings. Sounds around me were muted, like I was wearing noise cancelling headphones. I’d try to speak but no words would form. What  was I supposed to do now?

I’m going to get up and run.

I just need to stay still.

Every idea and no idea seemed right. I couldn’t quiet my mind, which was in a tailspin sorting through the madness I’d faced just moments before. There was no making sense of any of it, but that didn’t stop my mind from trying.

            This can’t be real.

This has to be some sort of dream.

I’m not really here.

I’ll wake up soon and everything will be back to normal.

Where AM I?

In my next posts, I’ll discuss the many steps of the acclimation process to this new world, plus the significance of that parachute and the satin satchel and more. I hope you’ll keep reading and that what I share is helpful.