Monday rolled around and I am back in the saddle. Took Liz’s mom to a doctor’s appointment, then to the hospital to visit her daughter, my dear friend. Visited Liz. Remembered to eat (a little late, I gulped down half a chicken in about five minutes flat).
Liz is heavily medicated – I already am losing her brightness of thought and personality. I am pleased and horrified to see her son become a man under the worst of circumstances, and her young daughter of 24 handle the medical issues with the grace of someone much older and wiser.
I was grieving over the weekend, but I was also doing something else. I was releasing the pent up pain, pain of denial of the truth of her condition, pain of watching her suffer, pain of wanting to go back to the summer nights.
After my Dad died, my Mom went into his workshop to get something. The workshop was all “him.” She took a hammer down and angrily sobbed and beat the hammer on the work bench. Then, as she tells it, she calmed down and said “Thank God for the gift of tears.”
I thought of that as I sobbed and knew that what was happening to me was healing and replenishing so that I can continue the caregiving that I hoped I would never have to do.
Liz was released from the hospital a little while ago and will begin the clinical trial soon. I will resume my evenings of being with her as much as I can, making her laugh which is my gift to her. Perhaps I will occasionally watch a sad movie to help the tears heal me once again.