Losing a close family member has changed me. I no longer take the existence of the people I love for granted. My heart is heavy, but the weight is now bearable. I don’t believe I will ever completely heal, but a friend suggested that the scab will get thicker. I find that, for now, I don’t want to read anything about grief and all its aspects. I don’t want to talk about the pain for it seems to make it much harder. The third month anniversary of my sister’s death was this week. My father’s birthday (who died in 1973) was also this week. I was in a small fender bender. I don’t think the three are mutually exclusive. My brain feels like its been bouncing around inside my skull as if I’ve taken a hard blow to my head. I expect this will happen on occasion. I expect that holidays and anniversaries, along with birthday reminders, will be difficult to bear. But, as I’ve done thus far, I will get through it. I can’t truly imagine (and honestly don’t want to) the horror of losing a loved one to murder, a car wreck, or any tragedy that I can consider. I don’t know how the loved ones deal with it and continue their lives.
I also don’t believe I’ll ever feel this intensity of grief again. I could be wrong, but I certainly don’t want to be. I feel as if a hardened shell is forming over my heart and won’t allow me to feel this horror again. I’ve begun to understand how those in the medical field, the military, and coroners manage to deal with daily death, along with having to tell the family. One must create the shell that keeps your heart from shattering each and every time that you must deal with the reality of telling others about the death of a loved one. I have grave doubts that I could come close to doing that. Just not in my DNA.
I recently read an article about how to determine who your real friends are. Going through my grief, I’ve discovered that people I didn’t consider close friends have shown up to be there for me. This includes a close friend who drove 4 hours one way to come to the funeral of my sister (she also drove 4 hours one way on the wrong Saturday – this is a true friend). There was another who came because she felt she should be there. That is often the real essence of friendship. The actions you take show others that you care. The words you say can be meaningless if not accompanied by action. I have to remember this. It’s an important part of friendship. Another friend I’ve never actually met sent homemade jams and pickled okra.
How do I show my love? I do try to be there. I doubt I’ve tried hard enough. I will do better now because of have the horrible ability to see how it feels.
My sister died of ovarian cancer. She had 18 months after the diagnosis. Please don’t take your health for granted. Ovarian cancer is not detectable until it’s in the 3rd or 4th stage. I believe she did all she could to fight this horrible disease. I now know a lot more about this disease and the medications given to the dying – more than I ever wanted to know. If you or someone you care about has any of the below symptoms, please get to your doctor quickly.
- A swollen or bloated abdomen, increased girth. Some women notice that their pants or skirts are getting tight around the waist. The bloating is a sign that fluid, called ascites, is building up in the abdominal cavity in later stage disease
- Persistent pressure or pain in the abdomen or pelvis
- Difficulty eating or feeling full quickly
- Urinary concerns, such as urgency or frequency
- Change in bowel habits with new onset constipation and/or diarrhea
- Unexplained vaginal bleeding
Early detection is vital. And please be a friend to those who are diagnosed. Women do live with early detection. My sister wasn’t one of those. I’m not happy to write about this. I’m not anywhere close to pleased that I know as much about this as I do.
I read my sister’s eulogy. I don’t remember doing it. The mind truly will protect you from the pain. I didn’t know that until this happened.
Please take care of your health. And please be a “show-er upper” for your friends. They will then know that you truly care.