A Grief Re-Observed

Sorrow, however, turns out to be not a state but a process. It needs not a map but a history... There's something new to be chronicled every day. Grief is like a long valley, a winding valley where any bend may reveal a totally new landscape. As I've already noted, not every bend does. Sometimes the surprise is the opposite one; you are presented with exactly the same sort of country you thought you had left behind miles ago. That is when you wonder whether the valley isn't a circular trench. But it isn't. There are partial recurrences, but the sequence doesn't repeat. -C.S. Lewis, A Grief Observed

I went fell asleep last night in a state a deep sadness. I was mourning the loss of Graeme's sweet, playful charm (again or still, take your pick). It's difficult to avoid thinking of him as I go to bed. I have to move his monkey, Mr. Murphy, off my pillow each night and there are pictures of him of all over in our bedroom. Last night, I recalled to mind the countless times we napped together in my bed, giggling as we drifted off. There are very few few things in this life that I have loved more than watching Graeme sleep.

The sudden onset of sadness in me isn't unusual. These feelings come and go throughout the day or week or month. Sometimes I feel gripping anguish at the smallest remembrance. Sometimes I feel lingering regret over my failings as a mom and caretaker. Sometimes I stumble over anger or confusion. There are times that I'm knocked over by a wave of joy as I consider the triumphs of Graeme's life, the laughter, and the "I love you so much I'll eat you up" moments. Most often now, though, I feel a comfortable and settled peace.

This variance of emotion is part of the reason that I love C.S. Lewis's description of grief. Lewis wrote his memoirs of grief as "a defence against total collapse". I wish that I could have documented my grief as well, not because I fear total collapse, but because it's so fascinating to see the unfolding of an experience that is (or will be) common to everyone, but is at the same time so intensely personal, subjective, and unique.

My most recent melancholy stems from a music loop that's been repeating in our house for a few weeks. My lovely sister-in-law, Paula, has written and recorded some great songs, one of which was penned with Graeme in mind. Chase is a huge fan of his Aunt Paula, so this song, called "Last Goodbye" has been a daily reminder of both my sadness and my joy.

You can (and should) check out Paula's music here: http://www.cdbaby.com/Artist/PaulaKay