Friday, May 30, 2008

I Thought I Was Prepared

I have always tried to "pre-grieve" by imagining what it would be like if say, my mom died, or my dad, or Jane. I used to think in so doing, that I was well-prepared in case those things would ever happen during my lifetime.

I do believe that "pre-grieving" helps, but there's no substitute for the real thing. As I sit here today, making a slide show for Jane's eventual memorial service, I fully realize that I am not, nor will I ever be, completely prepared for this.

Jane has been mostly unable to communicate anymore. She will say "water" and gesture as if she's holding a glass up to her mouth, but it is very difficult to correspond with her. She was quite restless early this morning, and had her bout with nausea earlier than normal. Afterward, she is usually spent for several hours.

As I write, she is resting quietly again. I am keeping my eyes open for telltale signs of the end, but for the most part, they have not appeared yet. By "the end", I mean days or hours. So I pass yet another day with my bride of 21 years still in our home with me. It may sound selfish, but if she would only stay with us, I would have her even this way.

I found it hard to understand a few years ago, why the parents of Terri Schiavo would want to keep her alive in her vegetative condition. Now, I know why. It's probably just selfish on our parts, but I do understand. It is very difficult to let go; and even though I told Jane a couple of weeks ago that I had released her, I guess I still have not.

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3 Comments:

Anonymous Anonymous said...

Dear Doug:
I really would rather call you on this one, but I am typing again. You are never prepared, but to me the body is the house that the soul lives in, and when the body becomes old, sick, or both, we should realize that when we let a person go, we are releasing a soul that would otherwise be trapped in a body that is not servicing them anymore. I went for grief therapy with Hospice before and after my
Father died. Yes, it helped. Also, I had 4 stages of acceptance. #1 You are dying, fine, but please eat half your meal. #2 You are dying fine, you do not want to eat, fine, but please drink. #3You are dying, fine, you do not want to eat and drink, fine, but please take your medicine. #4 You are dying, fine.
Believe me, this is the hardest thing to do. It was for me. Remember they live on in your thoughts in your heart, they will always be there. The soul never dies, it goes on. Love and Prayers, Regina PS If you ever want to talk sometime, please call me at 758-6668. Leave a message if I am not home telling me when it would be good for me to call you back. This morning I am going to my church to put both your names in for healing, comfort, peace, and strength.

May 31, 2008 at 7:32 AM  
Anonymous Hartfeld said...

Doug, our prayers are with you. We are praying for comfort and peace when that glorious day for Jane comes, Love Stacey & Jacob

May 31, 2008 at 7:05 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Doug,
I am touched by your comment today that you thought you had released Jane, but you guess that you still have not. I've always wondered if letting go is not an event but a process -- you don't do it once and for all, but over and over until it's done. I will pray that the process for you will occur in God's perfect timing so that you neither feel guilty that you didn't hang on "long enough' nor selfish or confused that you released her "too soon." I guess none of this is scientific. God bless you and keep you.
Cheryl Graham

May 31, 2008 at 7:25 PM  

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