Good Mourning Grief

A blog about my adventures as a grief warrior

Tag: #anticipatorygrief

Are You Prepared?

March 17, 2024 /

We have been visiting our friend in hospice for a month or so now. Everyone is aware that treatment of his brain cancer has stopped.  There is nothing else that can be done. We listen as the doctors tell us what the next stages will look like and to be prepared. Be prepared? How does one truly do that?

Each morning begins with a trip to visit him. He smiles, we chat, he tells us he loves us. We say it back. The conversations are light, about a morning walk he had (in his mind as we know he has not left the room).  We read to him the daily verse of ‘the big book’ of A.A and we analyze that. He continues to inspire us, coach us as he lays there talking about life, about how he wishes to live.  “…And then some,” he says.  

Ice cream, diet coke and tapioca pudding.  These are some of his favorite things. As we sit one morning watching him eat a drumstick of chocolate and peanuts, he says, “when I don’t want to eat ice cream, you can start to worry about me.” We laugh.

One visit I asked if he felt his prayers were heard. He said most of them. I asked what do you do about the ones that are not answered? He said, “I pray harder.” I hugged him before I left and noticed the color of his eyes, the new way he was breathing. I leaned in close to his face and said, “I’ll see you tomorrow, right?” He nodded. I asked, “can you let me know when I won’t be able to?” He looked at me, silent, then he squeezed my hand and whispered, “I’ll try.”

Things have started to really change now.  His desire to sit up, to walk, to chat for longer than ten minutes has vanished. “I had a long walk this morning, I need to just rest now” he would say as he closed his eyes.  Our cue to leave. Visits are still daily, but now we find him sleeping and he falls back to sleep as we chat. I think on some level, our friend is trying to prepare. Silently, I am sure his talks with God and the realization he stays dormant weighs on his mind. These thoughts take space with his tumor. There is an irony to all this; staying mentally positive so that you may live while the reason you are dying is found in the same organ.

Who knows when your last breath will be. But we know it is sooner than later for our sweet friend. His son calls to share his visit, how hard it is on him to see his father like this. He asks if we are aware his father is not here for long. Yes, we know. We talked about how he feels about that. He believes he is comfortable with what has been said. We have all shared memories and thoughts and endearments of how important he is to us now and forever. We have prepared ourselves for the inevitable. There’s that word again. Prepared.

When grief arrives, it rips you apart and ‘prepared’ crumbles into a million tears and questions about was it enough. I don’t know how to prevent this.  I just know it happens. My heart aches for his children, his siblings, his friends, for us. His son says he knows one cannot be fully prepared, but he will find strength in knowing his father is not in any pain.  I smile. It is that small but comforting truth to which we will cling to. It might help us to be prepared for the moment that anticipatory grief becomes eternal heartache.

The Sharpness of Anticipatory Grief

March 12, 2023 /

Our friends have chosen the day they wish to depart.  Through the assistance of MAID, they will be leaving this realm at the end of the month. We behave like they are planning to move. Which in essence they are. We tease as a distraction to what is happening by referring to it as ‘when you check out’.  The reality of their truth is only now starting to hit home.

The pre-planning of death has numerous facets. Wills need to be in place, utilities need to be notified, investments need to be transferred, accounts need to be closed. The house needs to be purged and sold. The cat needs to find a new home. It is demanding. We have spent a lot of time with our friends doing our best to minimize these stresses so that they may enjoy their last days here.

As family and friends are notified that there will be no more events attended by them as of this spring, emotions vary and are raw. Understanding their decision fluctuates with each person. I have had my moments. I wanted this year to be one with no more losses and their intentional planning messed that up. A reminder that life is rarely about oneself. I don’t want them to go.  We have had over thirty years of laughter and shared experiences. These two are more like family than friends.  They are aunt and uncle to my children. They are our go to for a martini and wine. And yet, they will be gone soon, and I know this. It is planned.

It is not a sudden death that throws you into grief.  It is anticipated which drags you, kicking and screaming to grief. And their decision is not about having a terminal illness or having endless pain, conditions that justify the desire to let your loved ones go. It is a personal decision they have made that their health and quality of life is not where they want to be, and it will only get worse. Thus, their choice. I get it. I am supporting them. It just doesn’t make it any easier.

The double edge sword of anticipatory grief is time. It is complicated because it holds promise and opportunity.  One has time to plan the remainder of life on earth and the hereafter with focus. One has time to have more. More conversations, more memories, more hugs, more dinners. This is the comforting side, knowing that death will soon be here we become more intentional. The other side is less friendly.

Anticipatory grief makes us anxious; it is the taunting knowledge that time will soon be gone. This type of grief makes it difficult to focus on daily tasks that now seem mundane but are necessary. It brings the anger and sorrow of loss to hang over the last memories you are cramming in before they go. It brings with it a different type of guilt, a nervousness of is there enough planned, what else can be done, said, experienced before they depart. Grief is exhausting. Anticipatory grief can be double exhausting because, although I am grateful that I do have more time with my friends, I carry with me the agony of knowing, with each minute, that there is coming a point where there will be no more time. Two more of my tribe will no longer be.  I can’t do anything about it.

I try to balance this madness by keeping busy doing little tasks for them that comfort them. I call them more often, visit them more often, ask more questions and share ideas of how we will honor them. We sort through photographs of past times and laugh at the “remember when…”

Our recent visit, my friend hugged me and tearfully said, “this is so hard, but I know that it is the right thing to do”. His strength found in his belief gives me the strength to keep showing up and to continue making memories with them that I will carry with me long after their final sunset.

© 2024 Good Mourning Grief

Theme by Anders Noren — Up ↑