Sandra Heska King

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Five Minute Friday: The Reality of Grief

February 3, 2012 By Sandra Heska King

 

I flip through the pages of Time Magazine until she breezes into the waiting room to invite me back.

“How are you today?” Her eyes sparkle, and the corners crinkle.

I flash a big smile. “Fine. Just fine!”

I climb up into the chair, and she pins the bib around my neck.

She flips on the reflector light, dons a spotlight.

“Did you have a good holiday?” She’s very chipper.

She reaches for a silver pick.

I know she expects me to say, “Great” and “How was yours?”

But I’m in the light, and so I say, “Well, not really.”

And I tell her about my mom and that’s why I’m late seeing her this time.

“I’m sorry,” she says.

And there is silence except for the sound of metal on enamel.

I study the posters on the ceiling.

Joni picks and scrapes, and I shudder with the sound.

And my mind travels to her body shaking and holding her hand and telling her it was okay.

And wondering if she even heard me.

It was “rally day,” and I wonder if the bumping and jostling of the recliner in getting her outside or the whirlpool bath afterwards had somehow shaken things up.

If this seizure would have come anyway.

At least that day.

I know better.

She squirts. I swish. Mr. Straw sucks.

I try to shake off the reality of grief.

And the anger I sometimes feel at the inability to be real about it.

I try not to think about it.

How life goes on, and how being real sometimes causes discomfort for others.

How they expect me to be strong.

I’m grateful for those with whom I can feel safe to be real.

For those who comfort with the comfort they’ve received.

For those who understand I don’t need therapy.

Who are therapy.

And I’m grateful for the reality of Him, the One acquainted with grief.

Well, wasn’t that depressing.
Never know what will come out when you let the words spill.

 

Laugh with your happy friends when they’re happy;
share tears when they’re down. ~Romans 12:15 (Message)

Joining Lisa Jo and community for five minutes on the word prompt REAL.

 Linking, too, with Emily for her last Imperfect Prose gathering
as she steps out in faith to care for two more boys who desperately need her.

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Filed Under: stories and reflections, writing

Comments

  1. Dolly @ soulstops says

    February 3, 2012 at 1:31 pm

    Thanks, Sandra, for being real, and if I could, and if it was okay with you, I would give you a BIG HUG, and say I’m sorry…grief and losing a loved one really stinks {feel free to substitute another word}… I have “God-bumps” as I was thinking of you and then I linked up right behind you for 5MF and I try to visit the person b4 me so I’m thinking maybe God really wanted me to visit you and give you a cyber-hug! Praying that God would continue to comfort you and let you know that it is okay to be real with Him and trusted friends.

    • Sandra says

      February 3, 2012 at 10:45 pm

      I am taking that cyber hug, Dolly. If it’s okay with you, I’ll take two.

      Sharing the God-bumps. 🙂

  2. Simply Darlene says

    February 3, 2012 at 2:12 pm

    Hey miss Sandra. I am sorry for your loss. I’ve only just learned of it (since I’ve been internet-less for so long). I hope you lean full into the good Lord’s chest during this time.

    Blessings.

    • Sandra says

      February 3, 2012 at 10:47 pm

      I am SO glad to see you, Miss Darlene. I’m leaning full.

  3. Shelly Miller says

    February 3, 2012 at 2:19 pm

    I actually loved this post but you made me laugh at the end with your “well wasn’t that depressing” comment. You painted a accurate picture of what grief looks like after living with it for more than a week. When the tears don’t shed as easily and the pain is not as acute.

    • Sandra says

      February 3, 2012 at 11:04 pm

      Strange what thoughts come at the strangest times. 🙂

      I’ve been thinking about you and Winston. And remembering the chin on the edge of the bed and the cold wet nose nudging me for attention. It’s been a year and a half.

  4. Sheila Lagrand says

    February 3, 2012 at 2:29 pm

    Here’s what I did, when people started to suggest that maybe I should be “further along in the process” than I was.

    I looked at the person, kinda firmly, and said, “I am grieving my mother WELL.”

    Now, I’m not suggesting you do that. Because the last thing you need, probably the thing you’re overloaded with, is all kinds of ideas about how this should be going for you.

    I am grateful for the position you’ve staked out for yourself here, Sandy. Letting your grief unfold, one slow petal at a time, until it blooms fully (if that’s not misstating your place) is one of many healthy ways to deal.

    Love you. Lots and lots.

    • Sandra says

      February 3, 2012 at 11:08 pm

      Love you lots and lots more, Sheila.

      Your words give me pause because there are days I wonder if my grief is well. Yet I know it is.

  5. Cheri Gregory says

    February 3, 2012 at 2:29 pm

    I’m with you Sandra. I’d just visited my mother and discovered that her Alzheimers was progressing rapidly. At the next staff meeting, in front of everyone, my boss asked me, “So, Cheri, it must have been nice to see your mother!”

    I’m still wondering how I should have responded…other than by nodding mutely, of course…

    http://cherionethingivelearned.blogspot.com/2012/01/10-days-of-proverbs-31-my-heart-may.html

    • Sandra says

      February 3, 2012 at 11:11 pm

      Oh Cheri. I can just imagine the range of emotions. I wouldn’t have known how to respond either.

  6. Sissy says

    February 3, 2012 at 2:57 pm

    I know.

    • Sandra says

      February 3, 2012 at 11:11 pm

      I know you know.

  7. terri tiffany says

    February 3, 2012 at 3:11 pm

    This wasn’t depressing– it is real.All of us will go through it but it isn’t until we do that we understand. Until then,we have to accept the discomfort we might cause others with our grief. It’s sad but true. I try not to hold it against anyone but sometimes it’s hard.

    • Sandra says

      February 3, 2012 at 11:24 pm

      You’re right, Terri. There’s so much we don’t really understand until we experience it ourselves. Good to remember that everyone carries some sort of pain.

  8. Christine says

    February 3, 2012 at 3:18 pm

    I love the way you seamlessly go from the dental chair to your heart, then back to the dental chair. And I love real people! Beautiful job!

  9. Cindee Snider Re says

    February 3, 2012 at 3:19 pm

    Oh, Sandy…tears. I just wrote three pieces — not happy, but real pieces and haven’t posted them yet, because today I’m not strong, just real. Today it hurts just to breathe, and I know in my heart that’s OK. Part of the process, something that sometimes makes others uncomfortable. I’m glad you wrote this. Glad you kept it real. I needed your words today. Thank you.

  10. Christine says

    February 3, 2012 at 3:23 pm

    I want to add that honoring her through your memories and thoughts and the written word makes her life that much more meaningful. Those we love and have lost deserve for us to be real.

  11. diana says

    February 3, 2012 at 3:35 pm

    Depressing? Not in the least. Real? Yes, ma’am. And thank you for that. Some days it just plain sucks to be strong. So please give yourself permission to take a day or two off from strength now and again, okay? Sleep in, hang in your jammies, have THREE cups of tea, watch a movie that makes you smile. Whatever – whatever will allow you to unkink, let go and just be with all that you’re feeling/ Love you, thinking of you, praying for you.

  12. Omily says

    February 3, 2012 at 3:38 pm

    Hugs…sorry for your loss.
    Being real sometimes means not pretending everything is okay, not pretending you are always strong. And knowing He is real, holding on to Him…

  13. Val says

    February 3, 2012 at 4:42 pm

    Grief sucks. And we are SOOO scared of it, aren’t we? It’s messy and it hurts and it’s disruptive and there are so few safe places for all of that.

    I am sending you many (((((hugs))))) and praying for there to be an abundance of safe places for you to be where you are in this grief.

  14. S. Etole says

    February 3, 2012 at 6:38 pm

    For some reason, this reminds me of the Velveteen Rabbit and how love makes you real and how love involves grief. So it’s not depressing at all … just makes me wish you could feel all the love-hugs coming your way.

  15. Patricia says

    February 3, 2012 at 6:38 pm

    With you in spirit comfort. I laughed at Mr. Straw because it reminded me of when my dentist asked how I was doing and why I hadn’t been there in so long. That day, Mr. Straw sucked a few of my tears and it brought us all into laughter. Living together in community… in happiness and sadness, success and failure. It’s who we are, it’s what we do, it’s how we roll. I’m so proud to have you as a friend. =)

  16. juliana says

    February 3, 2012 at 10:51 pm

    Not depressing – beautiful. Thank you for sharing your heart.

  17. imperfect prose says

    February 3, 2012 at 11:43 pm

    oh friend… first of all, that photo–it’s just incredible. i wish i could paint it. and secondly, grief appears to make you a stunning writer. i found myself crying at the end of this, not because it was depressing, but because it touched my core. thank you sandra. for being in the light.

  18. Megan Willome says

    February 4, 2012 at 11:31 am

    Thank God for dental hygienists!

    Seriously, you’re fine. It feels awful, but you’re OK.

  19. nic says

    February 5, 2012 at 8:51 pm

    i’m sorry, sandy. that’s a paltry offering, i know. i’m praying He will keep you close, the One who KNOWS the blistering innards of suffering and grief.

  20. Melinda Lancaster says

    February 8, 2012 at 4:28 pm

    I’m so choked up (not depressed, just relating) that I can’t find my words.
    I. Love. You.

  21. kd sullivan says

    February 8, 2012 at 5:32 pm

    Oh, I long to be a friend who is therapy. I love your heart, your words and your pictures dear friend. I hope you come over to Painting Prose this week…

  22. Janet Macy says

    February 17, 2012 at 1:55 am

    So perfectly written. And so real and transparent. Grief is a process and I think you’ll find that writing about it helps.

    And it helps us. Helps to give us words to understand our own process.

    We should all be a safe harbor – a sanctuary for each other. Thereby providing therapy and encouragement.

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“Truly, we live with mysteries too marvelous to “Truly, we live with mysteries too marvelous to be understood. . . Let me keep company always with those who say “Look!” and laugh in astonishment and bow their heads.” ~ Mary Oliver in “Mysteries, Yes”
🌱
No way could anyone ever convince me that this world in all its beauty and creativity and mysteries is here by accident.
Food truck night with a newcomer—@crepstick. So Food truck night with a newcomer—@crepstick. So yummy! I hope they come back.  But maybe not too often or I’ll have to do double time on the exercise.
“Embrace this day knowing and showing the world “Embrace this day knowing and showing the world that your God is more than enough for you.”
🌿
@tamiheim @tonibirdsong 
In @stickyJesus: How to Live Out Your Faith Online
My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the str My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion.” Psalm 73:26 (ESV)
🌿
I’d almost forgotten what quiet mornings on the patio were like. (Quiet except for the birds and the sound of the neighbor’s AC.)
So yesterday I saw my cardiologist. It was the fir So yesterday I saw my cardiologist. It was the first time he wanted to see me in 6 months instead of a year. He said my aortic stenosis had gotten worse. Like on the cusp of moderate to severe. 😬

So the first thing he asks me is, "How's you daughter?" Wait. Isn't this supposed to be about ME?

Then he asks if I've had any symptoms. "Well, I don't know. Maybe. I felt a little dizzy out of the blue a couple times. And felt like I couldn't catch my breath. I wouldn't have paid any attention if I didn't know I was supposed to be watching for symptoms. I DID walk all over Israel and up a bunch of steep hills, even all the way up to the Golan Heights--against the wind--without anything but normal fatigue.

He laughs. "I created a monster." Ummm, yeah.

"Have you been exercising?" 

"Well, yeah. We walk a couple miles a day. I'm back on my Nordictrack Strider." I didn't tell him I'd been lifting some light weights and some very heavy boxes and other items during this renovation, though I was told in December not to.

So he listens to the beating of my heart. Then he says, "Well, I don't think the valve is ripe yet. I don't expect you to have symptoms for three or four years. You don't need to come back for a year."

Wait! So you ask if I have symptoms. But you don't expect symptoms--yet. And when I do have symptoms, someone is gonna do something. And then I'll be older and maybe weaker. Or what if I have some sudden and silent symptom and boom! And now I have to worry about that. 

(In other news, my oldest grand texts me the other day, and our conversation runs like this...
Last weekend we were in northern Michigan. And the Last weekend we were in northern Michigan. And there were lilacs. They even shook their heads over tornado-induced devastation. Look for the beauty and sweet scents in the midst of the mess. I miss the lilacs.
Yesterday’s morning view. We haven’t seen the Yesterday’s morning view. We haven’t seen the sun all day today.
When the folks in my hometown of Gaylord, Michigan When the folks in my hometown of Gaylord, Michigan ate their breakfast Friday morning, they had no idea what terror and devastation they'd face before dinner. Everyone has a story. You've probably seen pictures.

If not, take a peek at @mlivenews .

My great-nephew, not quite 12, had just gotten home from school when the EF-3 came down the street and left its mark on every home. My niece frantically tried to find her way from work through debris and blocked roads. My sister was 30 miles away visiting my dad in rehab. I don't want to know how fast my brother-in-law drove. 

The house and yard took a hit, worse than some, not as bad as others. A mobile home park was demolished--two deaths there. I heard one person is still missing. So many injured. So much awful. But the town is coming together for each other. Pray for them.

We plan to fly up Thursday--already planned to celebrate my dad's 95th birthday. 

Also, if anyone feels led to help, the Otsego Community Foundation and Otsego County United Way are accepting donations. Note “Tornado Relief.” Beware of any other fundraising requests.
Cutting tonight’s walk short. Stupid blue jay. N Cutting tonight’s walk short. Stupid blue jay. Not this one. A different one. But still. (My niece believes blue jays are a visitation from Grandma—my mom.) 
My shirt says “Walk in love. But I’m not feeling very loving. And if it WAS my Mom AKA Mother Mary Esther of the Order of Perpetual Birdwatchers, I’ll bet she’s having a good laugh. A passerby said she heard it was good luck and I should buy a lottery ticket tonight. In other news, I also banged my hip bone against our bed’s footboard and gave myself a mighty bruise. Then I burned my arm on the top of the grill. I did manage to wash all the knives without cutting myself and didn’t start any fires. So how was your day?
And now… “From the rising of the sun to the pl And now… “From the rising of the sun to the place where it sets, the name of the Lord is to be praised.”
The world’s a mess, but His mercies are new. The world’s a mess, but His mercies are new.
When we were in Israel last month, we visited @yad When we were in Israel last month, we visited @yadvashem - the World Holocaust Center in Jerusalem. There wasn't enough time to spend nearly enough time. 

The Valley of the Communities was very moving. It's a labyrinth of stone from which there seems no way out. Our guide said It gives an idea of the endlessness of the horror. His parents emigrated from Vilna (the Jerusalem of Lithuania), before the Holocaust. In 1935, thirteen of his family members still remained there. By 1945 only one--an uncle--had survived. He wrote a book about them from a bundle of old letters. "One story out of millions."

"This memorial commemorates the Jewish communities destroyed by Nazi Germany and its collaborators, and the few which suffered but survived in the shadow of the Holocaust."
#Israel2022 #HolocaustRemembranceDay
“From my favorite spot on the floor, I look up a “From my favorite spot on the floor, I look up at the blue sky and the bare chestnut tree on whose branches little raindrops shine, appearing like silver, ” Anne Frank wrote in the Diary of a Young Girl. Watching the tree change through the seasons her family spent in hiding in an attic gave her hope. The Holocaust Memorial Center is one of only eleven sites in the United States to receive a sapling from that tree. I stand at “her” window and imagine hanging hope on a tree.

"It happened, therefore it can happen again: this is the core of what we have to say. It can happen, and it can happen everywhere.” ~ Primo Levi

From a post I wrote for @tspoetry after a visit to the @holocaustcenter.

https://www.tweetspeakpoetry.com/2016/07/27/regional-tour-holocaust-memorial-center-farmington-hills-michigan/
Stunning tree I parked near at Bible study yesterd Stunning tree I parked near at Bible study yesterday. I was in a rush and failed to snap the whole tree. I need to run back before the flowers fall. I think it’s a jacaranda? I want one.
Speaking of birds... bluejay in my backyard this a Speaking of birds... bluejay in my backyard this afternoon. I thought he was hurt, but I think he was just trying to cool off. (Maybe it's a young one.... unless it's the light?)
Someone should do something about that dog. She’ Someone should do something about that dog. She’s yelping and carrying on like she’s in some awful pain.
“Now in the place where he was crucified there w “Now in the place where he was crucified there was a new tomb in which no one had yet been laid.” ~ John 19:41

“But the angel said to the women, ‘Do not be afraid, for I know that you seek Jesus who was crucified. He is not here, for he has risen, as he said. Come, see the place where he lay…’”~ Matthew 28:5-6

Many wonder if this tomb, which lies just a few yards west of Golgotha could be the place where Jesus lay and rose. I wish we could have lingered longer here in this garden and in the tomb itself. It was easier for me to imagine the events of that weekend happening here than in the heavily incensed, decorated, dark and crowded Church of the Holy Sepulchre… though my hairdresser said her old boyfriend “got chills”’when he entered that tomb. We did not go inside that one because the line was way too long. 

At any rate, the most important thing is that he tomb is EMPTY and HE IS RISEN!

HAPPY EASTER!
#Israel2022 #GardenTomb #Easter
 “Peter said to him, ‘Lord, I am ready to g 
“Peter said to him, ‘Lord, I am ready to go with you both to prison and to death’ Jesus said, ‘I tell you, Peter, the rooster will not crow this day until you deny three times that you know me.’” ~ Luke 22:33-34

The Church of St. Peter in Gallicantu (rooster crowing) built over what tradition says was the house of Caiaphas where Jesus was brought after he was arrested. Perhaps he was imprisoned in one of the underground crypts while awaiting trial. 

“On top of the church, higher than the cross—I loved this—stands a golden rooster! I’ll never look at a weathervane the same again. How would you like to have a church commemorate your weakest moment?” ~ Wayne Stiles in Walking in the Footsteps of Jesus

#Israel2022 #GoodFriday
The olive trees here are ancient… some carbon da The olive trees here are ancient… some carbon dates to the 12th century, according to my Eyewitness book on Jerusalem. “DNA tests have shown that eight of the trees grew from cuttings from the same mother tree—perhaps taken by Christians who believed the tree to have witnessed Jesus’s agony.” 

Gethsemane means “olive press.” Jesus was pressed to his very depths that night.  He knew what was ahead. He could have run far away. But he went where he knew Judas would look for him. 

“And he withdrew from them about a stone’s throw, and knelt down and prayed, ‘Father, if you are willing, remove this cup from me. Nevertheless, not my will, but yours, be done.’ And there appeared to him an angel from heaven, strengthening him. And being in agony he prayed more earnestly; and his sweat became like great drops of blood falling down to the ground.” ~ Luke 22:41-44

Garden of Gethsemane and Church of the Nations

#Israel2022
A "blue preacher" right outside my door, nearly as A "blue preacher" right outside my door, nearly as tall as I am. I wonder what he's wondering. Is he finding the answer blowing in the wind?

"Watch, now, how I start the day
in happiness, in kindness." ~ Mary Oliver in "Why I Wake Early"
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