The little things and words to live by, as I bear the unbearable

Without a 31st of November, at some point between midnight on November 30th and 1:00am on December 1st, the 6-month mark of Chip’s passing came and went. The Thanksgiving holiday and looking forward to a season of birthdays, Christmas and the new year without him has left my feelings more untethered than usual, as I mark the passage of time since I last held his hand and kissed his sweet face.

On average days, it’s still the little things that bring the deepest grief to the surface. My Monday workout class is always guaranteed to be quietly grief-filled since the instructor, a young man named Zachary who can’t be more than 25, plays all the music Chip loved and that I came to love by way of him, as well as newer music that Chip and I discovered and explored together. Unbeknownst to Zachary, of course, the majority of songs in his workout playlists are Chip’s favorites, including the Grateful Dead and the Talking Heads. Zachary also incorporates rock music that I only know because I knew Chip to keep us motivated while we bear-crawl, hold planks and work on our abs. One morning a few weeks ago, Zachary played a band called “Hot Chip,” which I took Chip to see in DC in June 2015 simply because I loved the name of the band (we both ended up really loving their music!). Last week, he played LCD Soundsystem, a band Chip and I danced to many times right in our own kitchen since we never saw them in concert together (I saw LCD Soundsystem with my kids Michael and Eva, and 9 of their friends, at a festival in Canada the summer of 2016…Chip wanted to go so badly, but he wasn’t feeling well enough to go that July, with his cancer diagnosis just months away at that point).

This past Monday, with my emotions raw from the three 6-month memorials, Zachary played the song “Wagon Wheel” as part of the workout. He used the Old Crow Medicine Show version of Bob Dylan’s original, which was fine by me since I like their version best since Chip and I saw Old Crow Medicine Show in concert twice and heard the song many times over the years at bars or music venues. I have many memories of me and Chip dancing and singing along to the song, just as the audience does in this video of the OCMS performing it live. Somewhere between skipping across the gym interspersed with wall sits as “Wagon Wheel” played for 4 or so minutes on Monday, I bit my lip hard to prevent the tears from flowing. Hearing the singer belt out “Rock me Mama like the wind and the rain” didn’t help prevent the tears from dropping though, so they fell despite my best efforts. The lyrics prompted thoughts of Chip holding me from behind as we swayed to the song as well as thoughts of me cradling Chip in my arms on the worst days and nights as he endured the pain and horror of living life with cancer. Fortunately, for the sake of everyone’s emotional and mental comfort during workout, the tears and struggle on my face blended seamlessly with the sweat and physical effort that were products of Zachary’s “No Limits Cardio” workout. Allowing the tears to flow allowed the grief to pass.

I am glad that I have tools such as “let the tears flow” that help me through moments like at the gym when grief hits, but each tool can be unreliable. Techniques that have helped me before on Monday mornings and at other times, too, don’t always work, so I’ve had to create a grief toolbox in my head and my heart. When the grief hits, I just start rifling through the toolbox in my head to look for a tool that will do the job of containing the grief when the moment hits. It may take a minute or so, but I have been able to find at least one that works in each moment so far. There is comfort in knowing the tools in my tool box are there when I need them.

As unpredictable as grief is, I know that the holidays and family celebrations, such as my birthday and our wedding anniversary this month, will cause huge waves of emotion. My grief support group leader on Wednesday evenings recently shared work by Helen Fitzgerald, CT, training director for the American Hospice Foundation that I can add to my toolbox. Remembering Ms. Fitzgerald’s words will be a tool for me. She wrote:

“These events, once anticipated with joyous pleasure, are now often painful reminders that your loved one is not here to celebrate with you.”

Ms. Fitzgerald, besides encouraging people to allow time to feel sad and have a good cry if needed, goes on to write that the following activities can help keep your loved one part of a special occasion:

• Try to keep to a routine. Eat as well as you can, get rest, and keep up with your exercise program

• If you need quiet time, take it.

• Sometimes new traditions are better than old ones. Start one in their honor.

• Set priorities. Grief is exhausting, know that you may tire quickly and save your energy for the most important things.

• If you aren’t up to a large family affair, have a scaled-down event with a few close family members or friends.

I will add these tools to my toolbox to keep handy throughout the holidays and celebrations to come. I will also keep in mind the words of Dr. Joanne Cacciatore, founder of the MISS Foundation, which supports families following the death of children at any age and by any cause. She is the author of the highly acclaimed “Bearing the Unbearable — Love, Loss and the Heartbreaking Path of Grief.” She is also an ordained Zen Buddhist priest and founder of the Selah Care Farm in Arizona. She writes:

“To fully inhabit grief is to hold the contradictions of the great mystery that loss shatters us and we become whole…We know the darkest of all nights and in so doing can bring the light of our loved ones into the world. We are the paradox. We are the bearers of the unbearable.”

Words to live by, as I live without Chip.