*gasp*
This afternoon I had an appointment with my grief counselor. She is a part of the hospice agency which cared for Oliver & Waverly. I have seen her many times over the last six months. She had to push back my appointment ninety minutes because of a schedule conflict. I arrived a few minutes early and sat in the lobby waiting to be called back. A door opened and out came Oliver's nurse.
I haven't seen her since the day before Oliver died. I think we were both startled to see one another. When we said goodbye as Oliver was preparing to be transferred to inpatient, I was angry. Oliver's final days in our home were not as we had hoped and I was looking to blame someone. Unfortunately she received the brunt of my rage.
She phoned and texted after Oliver died to offer condolences and I was too grief stricken to extend kindness. For months I focused my anger surrounding Oliver's death onto her. Unfairly so. Looking back through softened eyes, I can see all she did for us to try to allow Oliver a peaceful passing at home. She answered every phone call and text throughout the night. She came to our home in the middle of the night multiple times, wanting to care for her patient instead of the on call nurse knocking on our door.
When I saw her, she gasped surprised to see me in the building. I said hello, curious what kind of emotional reaction I would have. I was overwhelmed with gratefulness for her and compassion for the very difficult work she does day in and day out for families. Our conversation was brief and within two minutes my therapist came out to get me. For the second time since I began counseling, I cried.
I have had a mental block whenever I tried to return to those final days. I could only see the events that unfolded through anger and pain. Today I was able to return to certain memories and see outside of myself. It felt healing. I know I have a long way to go, but I now have a sense of hopefulness in tackling those traumatic moments.
I included the above photo because it was a little joyful reminder in the midst of a difficult day. I looked down and saw this vibrant pink leaf shaped like a heart. And the water drops were so perfectly preserved. Joy and sorrow continue to show up in remarkable and unremarkable spaces. I just have to continue to keep my eyes and heart open to see them.
I haven't seen her since the day before Oliver died. I think we were both startled to see one another. When we said goodbye as Oliver was preparing to be transferred to inpatient, I was angry. Oliver's final days in our home were not as we had hoped and I was looking to blame someone. Unfortunately she received the brunt of my rage.
She phoned and texted after Oliver died to offer condolences and I was too grief stricken to extend kindness. For months I focused my anger surrounding Oliver's death onto her. Unfairly so. Looking back through softened eyes, I can see all she did for us to try to allow Oliver a peaceful passing at home. She answered every phone call and text throughout the night. She came to our home in the middle of the night multiple times, wanting to care for her patient instead of the on call nurse knocking on our door.
When I saw her, she gasped surprised to see me in the building. I said hello, curious what kind of emotional reaction I would have. I was overwhelmed with gratefulness for her and compassion for the very difficult work she does day in and day out for families. Our conversation was brief and within two minutes my therapist came out to get me. For the second time since I began counseling, I cried.
I have had a mental block whenever I tried to return to those final days. I could only see the events that unfolded through anger and pain. Today I was able to return to certain memories and see outside of myself. It felt healing. I know I have a long way to go, but I now have a sense of hopefulness in tackling those traumatic moments.
I included the above photo because it was a little joyful reminder in the midst of a difficult day. I looked down and saw this vibrant pink leaf shaped like a heart. And the water drops were so perfectly preserved. Joy and sorrow continue to show up in remarkable and unremarkable spaces. I just have to continue to keep my eyes and heart open to see them.
Comments