Notes on Grief (2): Complex Effects of Grief

Penned 29-30 Jan I assume, for good reason, that what I am experiencing with Zoe’s death yesterday is what is usually called “grief.” What I am finding is not a single emotion or experience, but a highly complex set of feelings and thoughts. Not only do feelings of intense sorrow come in waves, but so do diverse memories, thoughts, actions. It may seem like an odd exercise for one whose beloved dog died yesterday, but seeking to understand what I am going through is both the way my mind works, and a means to have some degree of rational control over the heavy emotional experience. Note that I am not suppressing feelings, but seeking to understand them. I offer a tentative list of diverse feelings and thoughts related to the Zoe’s death shortly before 3:00 pm on 28 January: (1) Waves of sorrow suddenly flood me, sometimes with tears and outbursts of words, such as “Zoe, my little girl.” These waves of sorrow are often unexpected, but I notice that expressions of consolation by a friend on the phone can trigger them.  At times I have cried with Moses, but he seems unmoved, even puzzled or bothered when I cry, and I believe that it is not helpful for him. He responds well to songs or expressions of joy. As the waves of sorrow fill me suddenly, I can with a firm choice quiet them for the time being, but usually only after a few seconds of crying. (2) Memories of Zoe have been rising into consciousness. Many are happy ones, wonderful moments with Zoe ever since I brought her home when she was 8 weeks old. Some of these provoke a smile or even gentle laughter. More recent memories, of the past couple of months of illness (which proved fatal), are more disturbing, painful, and arouse sorrow. Still, these memories urge to be remembered. Again, I do not suppress them from rising into consciousness, but let them surface. (3) Somewhat to my surprise, as I am doing manual work or domestic chores, or walking across a room, I find myself suddenly just speaking aloud a few words or a short sentence. Some of these sudden ejaculations are in music, such as whistling one of the many tunes I used to whistle when Zoe, Moses, and I were engaged in various activities. Some verbal phrases do not make much rational sense to me, and leave me wondering, “Why did I say that?” Underneath consciousness, my feelings are churning, and so these little verbal or musical utterances just well up and express themselves. (4) I clearly have feelings / thoughts of guilt about Zoe’s final illness and death. I wonder if in some way I caused her to have cancer, or neglected signs that she was ill. As I have never favored euthanasia, unless a creature is in extreme pain, with no chance of recovery, I wonder if I made a mistake having Zoe injected on 28 January. As my friend Bob W says, “You will never know if you did right.”  I must live with the decision, and know that I gave the word to inject her. Had she died at home, in pain or agony, I would surely feel guilty for that, as well. From experience with myself and in dealing with others, I know well that guilt is a very common component of grief, and something most of us live with. In such a case, I think that surrendering to God seems to be the best cure, for only God knows what is truly best, and I trust that God forgives our mistakes done in good conscience. (5) In addition to guilt and strong sorrow, perhaps the most disturbing feelings I have, accompanied with thoughts, can best be described as mild shock and horror. These feelings significantly intensified on 14 January, when I heard the diagnosis that Zoe had terminal cancer, and would live “two weeks to two months.”  She lived for two weeks. What I feel at times is a numbness in my body and spirit, as if part of me suddenly died. The horror arises as one whom I love so dearly neared death, and then died.  It is as if one were standing on the edge of a cliff with no bottom, and about to be shoved over the cliff. If we love someone, their death is ours as well, to a degree. I do not think that I am fearing my own death, but I surely fear the loss of my dear Zoe to death. Here again, the only consolation I know comes in faith: “When God gives life, He gives it eternally.”  But the reality of the death of one I have loved so much still haunts my soul beneath consciousness.