Grief. 6 years in…

Today is the 6 year anniversary of the day my daughter Elizabeth came home to hospice care, from a devastating week in the ICU. This has been a week of many tears, and some small sense of almost-embarrassment – that it’s been this many years now, and these anniversaries are still so full of emotion. I KNOW that it’s normal and healthy, and no one has ever told me how I should be feeling, and yet I still have some expectation of what this “should” look like. So, I remind myself the depth of the love allows for the depth of the grief. And there’s no right, or wrong, way to do this. And this is what my grief looks like…

This week I’ve been allowing myself to look at photos and video from the time around Elizabeth’s brain surgery, and her time in the ICU, and then right as she came home. I did it each time with conscious preparation, asking myself if I really wanted to watch the videos from before her surgery, when she was telling many of us she loved us, i.e. saying goodbye, knowing she might not emerge from surgery at all, or not her same self, which was largely the case.

Elizabeth Blue, Elizabeth Meagher, non-hodgkins lymphoma, cancer, Tucson,

Elizabeth Blue, day before surgery

This particular anniversary day started very early, with the dog needing to go out, followed by the cat scaring her and not letting her back inside, which meant I had to go out and herd her back in to safety. So I was up early when a client texted with a rare, urgent need for a quick phone session, and before I’d showered or eaten, I talked to her. It amazes me that I can be so present and calm and offer insights and advice to another, while I’m feeling so vulnerable, aware of my own sadness moments before. I love that we have that capacity to shift, and be present for someone else, as well as for ourselves.

This week has also been ordinary – taking Gracie to the dog park, seeing clients, answering emails and watching an Australian Netflix show I’m addicted to (Offspring). I’ve also been remembering so many details from that time: the ICU conference room my family took over, where we ate scones and lattes my mom brought in (from Raging Sage, for the Tucson folks); the acupuncturist who did a hospital visit to treat Elizabeth, with the cool case she carried all her tools in; brushing my teeth and taking out my contacts in a public bathroom on the nights I slept in a chair by Elizabeth’s bed; the night she was given an overdose of some medication, causing some scary symptoms that the next nurse courageously admitted the reason for; the moment when the ICU nurse told me she heard we were thinking of hospice care, which I’m sure was her gentle way of suggesting that, and which angered me, but ultimately brought us a huge gift of two months of peaceful time at home together, with incredible grace and love; setting up the hospice/hospital bed in our living room with soft sheets, and my sister arranging a big vase of pink roses where Elizabeth would see them; not remembering her arrival at the house – was I not there? is that possible? was it overwhelming? I can’t remember…

roses, altar, Elizabeth Blue, Elizabeth Meagher

roses on the altar

Then later this morning, I read that a friend’s husband was just diagnosed with leukemia. Though I know them only through social media, I broke down sobbing, with tears for what they are entering, and what may lie ahead. These kind, lovely people with two children and a life about to change in ways they can’t even imagine…and it reminded me so of that time of Elizabeth’s diagnosis – so raw and wild and surreal. I send them reiki and prayers for grace and ease with all that is coming.

And now, my day is coming to a close – I’m tired, Gracie is tired, (finally) after an hour running at the dog park. I’m going to eat some leftover tofu curry for dinner and watch something that takes me away from my memories, that wrenches opens my heart and makes me laugh…Grateful and feeling peaceful at this close of day.

Gracie, Lucia Maya, Elizabeth Blue, Maui,

Gracie sleeping with her bear

Lucia Maya, Elizabeth Blue,

my toes freshly painted blue today

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

rainbow, Maui, Hawaii, Hui Noeau,

today’s subtle rainbow

A Cancer Poem – by Elizabeth Blue

A Cancer Poem

written by Elizabeth Blue during her treatment for non-Hodgkins lymphoma, 2012

As I pray to the goddesses of white blood cells
to increase my cell counts
so I won’t get sick.
Won’t get a fever and go to the hospital.
It becomes more apparent
to me
than ever:
that gentle hand of grace
we call god
is in
my own body.

As I pray to the goddesses of white blood cells
to increase their numbers
so that
I won’t get sick.
I won’t get a fever
and go to the hospital.
And I imagine my fate
hinged on their fingernail
I know more than ever
that twisting fate
we call god
is in
is part of
my own self body.

Victoria told me
a shaman told her
so many ask
beg
to meet God.
And then they say:
“But:
keep my children safe.”
“Keep me healthy.”
“Don’t send me to war.”
“Let me be prosperous.”
“Let me be in love.”
“Keep divorce away.”
“Let me be beautiful.”

And Victoria told me
she thought it was interesting
the unwillingness to surrender
yet want to meet God.
We were talking about cancer I think
When she told me all this.
“Yes it is interesting.”
I agreed.

Elizabeth Blue©, 2012

I’m sharing some of Elizabeth’s poetry as I am able, selecting ones that I love, and that offer some deep wisdom, beauty and teachings for us all.

Motherhood – by Elizabeth Blue

A short and heart-wrenching piece written by my daughter Elizabeth Blue, while she was in the middle of her first round of chemo treatment for non-Hodgkins lymphoma, which ended her life on September 23, 2012. This was written 4 days after her 22nd birthday.

Motherhood

Monday January 16, 2012
7:57 PM

I just burst into tears. I was looking at a friends new baby and wedding pictures and I was getting teary eyed at them. I got up, closed the computer and went to use the bathroom. When I came out I thought about my daughter and the people I would want there during my labor and her birth. I thought about Victoria coaching me through labor and pain and telling me about her experiences and I burst into tears. Truly uncontrollable sobs. I’m still crying. I thought about how I might never have that and I could barely stand it. Something just months ago I thought I would never want, I want. I want so badly, so much, to be a mom. I want so much to meet my daughter Chloe Cricket Benjamin Blue. I imagined her having the same birthday as me or the day before and how it would be the best birthday present god or life or anyone could give. I want to meet her. My daughter: Chloe Cricket Benjamin Blue. I want so much to know her – the thought of not knowing her brings tears to my eyes and I can’t stop crying and sobbing and wailing knowing that it is possible it may never happen. I miss her and I didn’t even meet her yet. I tried to reason the tears away wondering if I’m hormonal or had too much coffee or am hungry. But none of these things were true and even if they were it doesn’t matter. I just want to meet her I just want to know her. I want to be born a mom, anew and born with her into a new life: the clan of motherhood.

Elizabeth Blue ©