Wednesday, 20 August 2014

5 Things The Last Week Has Taught Me About Grief

I've always loved Cracked.com and their articles so I've decided to write about some things I've noticed in the near week since Nana's death in their style.

5. Everyone Is Sorry.


Seriously. They're sorry for your loss. They're thinking of you in this troubling time. Their prayers are with you. Sorry. Sorry. So Sorry.

And I get it. Dead is one of those things you can't really do anything about. You can offer sympathy, and that is nice. I don't mind being told these things... but at one point it was the only emotion anyone seemed capable of expressing towards my family and I. People I've not talked to in ages offered sympathy on Facebook. People are on tenderhooks around both me and my mother- I'm not sure how they were around my brother and Dad because I've barely seen my brother (as usual) and like me, Dad spends a lot of his time at home right now.

Case in point. The day I lost her, someone wished for me to have a good day. Then they apologisied for saying that because wow insensitive. And...while it probably was, I found it more amusing than anything. Yes, it wasn't likely I was going to have a good day but hey look at how ingrained that phrase is in our manners. But no one in that chat has wished me a good day since- especially not that person. And it's off putting.

People who treat me normally are brilliant. Sympathy is fine; it's when it's everywhere and it's all you get that it gets annoying.

And how the hell do you respond to the sympathy? I keep saying thanks because really... there's nothing else to say. Even thanks feels hollow because half the time it's more reflex than genuine. I've said it so many times, to so many people that it's begun to lose all meaning too.

4. Being Asked How Your Day Is Is A Landmine Question.


Speaking of sympathy, this question is awful. It's such a loaded one now. How the hell do I answer it? If I say fine or good it's lying... or it feels like I should be lying because why should I be good right now? I lost someone I adored a week ago, 'good' is not a good description. But at the same time how do you say I'm not okay without bringing your loss back to the foreground of the conversation and well... making it all about you and your grief. It's a balance that's hard to find.

And that's for those who know what happened.

How do I respond to a coworker asking how I am? A stranger? Saying you've had a loss instantly opens you up for more sympathy but also makes conversation hard- it's a real mood killer. And there's a place it's not really appropriate to mention it which is basically any place where you're only likely to see this person for the next five minutes.

But the thing is, it's always on my mind. The second someone asks how I am, it's all that comes to mind. I've basically lied my way through every occasion of this question since. Or given non-committal answers. Like a 'How's things?' gets a 'Things are thinging'. It's tough and it's not even been a week...

3. Funerals Are Hard To Plan. And Expensive. 


Nana died just under a week ago. Her funeral was today. It took my parents the full week to organise and boy was it a lot of work.

Sure they had someone come see them about all the plans on the Friday, the day after her death. At that meeting, they chose all the major details like when- though that had been sorta picked since practically the day she died- and where. How religious we wanted it (enough to please her) was picked and things like flowers and music were talked over and picked that day. She'd made her wishes clear on how to bury her (which was to not, cremation for her) so it was just a matter of sorting out the details.

But the details. Do we want it recorded for my uncle who can't make it? Do we want little booklets? Yes? Okay, now we have to pick the photos for that. Who is going to speak? They can't decide on the day because there's a little booklet to be made. Closed or open casket? What are we going to bury her in? Mum and I had to go buy clothes because none of her stuff fit anymore. And let me tell you there is worse than walking into a clothes store and trying to figure out which of the pretty clothes you think best suits your dead Nana and will be suitable for her cremation. Because the funeral is closed casket, no one is going to see it...

Of course, it seems funerals are more for the living than the dead really.

And then there's the money problem. My Nana has...had the money to bury herself with but the moment she died, her assets were frozen. So we had to figure that issue out. It's not fun to be worrying about money when you've lost someone.

Not that I would sign up for funeral insurance. That's still a rip off.

2. Flowers. So Many Flowers.



We can't sit at our kitchen table at the moment. There's too many flowers. If you sit down on one side of it, all you can see of the person on the other side is flashes of their clothes you glimpse around (beautiful) arrangements of orchids and whatever the hell those orange flowers are that were on Nana's coffin (We took the smaller bunch home, her sister in law took the largest bunch. Yes, you take the flowers from the coffin home. Who knew?)

It seems to be the best way, after a card and saying sorry, for people to express their sympathy for us. The first bunch of flowers came last Tuesday- two days before Nana died. Since then, we've had another three bunches, including the ones from the coffin.

And a part of me hates it. Because Nana hated flowers in bunches like that. She loathed them with a passion, preferring to have potted plants as they could survive more than a few days. We always brought her a little potted plant if we wanted to buy her flowers and every time my uncle (who could never remember she hated flower bunches though at least he sent her something unlike the other two) sent her flowers, they ended up at our place within a day or two. I know it's not feasible for people to know this but at the same time, a part of me still resents the fact they don't know and yeah...

Also keeping flowers like that is a bit of work. They're nice but work.

EDIT: Five. There are five bunches of flowers. I forgot another friend of the family sent flowers the day after Nana died. So many flowers...

1. It's Really Hard And It's Not Hard At All


The funeral was hard. I started crying practically as soon as I saw the coffin because that box (so small) held my Nana and that's all I'll ever see of her. While I managed to read the poem I decided to read at the funeral, my voice was shaking and beside me my brother, who had come up with me for moral support, was crying as much as I wanted to be.

It also doesn't help that my last memory of her is from a week before she died when she could barely speak and the little she did say was to cry for help. She only made eye contact with me once- and seemed to recognise me- when I kissed her forehead in farewell after holding her hand for a lot of the visit; swapping off with my mother. It's not a good memory but it's my last one. It's so hard right now to remember anything of Nana from before she got really sick.

But sometimes it's not hard at all. I don't always have her on my mind and well... We've been expecting this since sometime late last year; it's already the reason I delayed my exchange. It wasn't a complete surprise, especially not after the stroke last month. My parents didn't have to say a word when they came home and I met them at the door; one look at their faces and I knew though I managed to avoid having them say it for a few moments as I babbled on about the phone calls I'd gotten while holding the fort. Even the funeral had its unsad moments- one when a friend of the family complimented me on the knee high pink spotted black socks I had worn specifically because Nana would have told me off for wearing them (once she realised what they were) and another when my brother pointed out to my suit wearing Dad that while both his fancy shoes were black they were different shoes. Both times I laughed.

That's not to say it's not been hard at other times. I cry at random moments, when I think about something that reminds me of her. A part of me doesn't really feel it because it's such an unreal feeling, to think that she's gone. But I'm hoping now the funeral has happened it might feel realer... I don't want to be in denial about reality.

Perhaps when I go overseas, it'll be different. But for now, I guess I'll continue to take each day as it is

Wednesday, 13 August 2014

So...

My Nana died an hour ago. My parents were with her- I wasn't.

It's really hard when you can't stop crying and you're wearing glasses.

Wednesday, 6 August 2014

Rushed to Surgery

I know I posted about my surgery yesterday but really it's all that's on my mind right now because I'm still really trying to process the fact that it happened.

Because I didn't really get a chance to process it. On Monday, I didn't believe what the doctor was saying as he booked me into surgery and gave me instructions on where to be and who to talk to to get to it. Even as I was talked to by an anesthesiologist it still felt like a dream. It wasn't happening, it wasn't actually going to be a thing. I was ignoring the fact I was in a hospital gown.

But then Dad kissed me on the forehead as they wheeled me off and I half wondered if I should say something just in case one of the really tiny risks I was told about happened but he was gone and I was alone in a room anyway, waiting for the doctor.

I was crying. I'll admit that. I was terrified and no one seemed to notice. Not until I was on the actual table and the really nice nurse was reassuring me that she was going to stay by my side until I fell asleep. I really liked her, she was so nice.

Also I like needles now even less than I did before. The feeling of one going into my right hand was horrible and they seemed fixated on me keeping the stupid thing in there right up until just before I left. It was so stuck down the nurse had trouble getting it out. And I could feel it every time I bent my hand past a certain angle- I started to stop using that hand because the sensation was awful.

But yeah. I don't remember falling asleep, something I'm a bit grateful for as my memories go from being scared in theatre to waking up in recovery. Which is actually an amusing memory to me because I was rambling something awful and it's hilarious. That poor nurse who had to suffer through my talkative self- I am surprised at how many of my questions were something close to logical considering how fuzzy the memories are. I do remembering saying that my friends didn't know I was in surgery, which I later found out was a half lie as my parents had seen fit to blast the fact of my surgery all over Facebook. *sigh*

I could have done without the night spent in hospital. They kept waking me to take my blood pressure to the point where as soon as I was woken, I would stick an arm out to make their job go faster so I could sleep.

And that's a more concise summary of the rushed day that was my surgery.

Monday, 4 August 2014

Faster Than A Speeding Bullet

I had surgery last night at 8pm.

I didn't know I was definitely having surgery until 6pm. It was so fast. I saw my doctor at 1:30pm and was told it was a possibility but until I saw the specialist/surgeon I didn't know it was actually happening.

And surgery is very very scary. Like, people talk over you and around you and it's really really cold. Plus you're terrified because you're going into surgery. Then well, you're in surgery and under the silver light with a needle in your hand...

But the nurse was very nice. She stood really close and stayed there until I fell asleep- something I don't actually remember doing. I went from being awake in Surgery to waking up in Recovery with a vague recollection of dreams (about a character from Homestuck oddly enough but then I've been reading fics for Homestuck a lot recently) and of having woken up before.

I was discharged this morning after a lot of running around by nurses- who took forever to take the cannula out that had been placed in my dominant hand seemingly just to make it really hard to do everything- and sent home which is where I am now.