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13. Morning is Broken

Written Wednesday, December 4, 2019 / Day 114 / Morning

Ahhh the morning. First light of a new day. A new day filled with opportunities, potential…accomplishments waiting to be fulfilled.

Those are the mornings most experience. But not me. No my mornings are not like that right now.

My mornings are broken.

Of course, my pre-grief mornings were not all that great either. I was still working. Managing the household operations that my wife could not take care of. Trying to keep up with the endless stream of tasks and responsibilities that relentlessly came my way.

Although stressful there was a purpose running through it all. In retrospect I know I was receiving help because I cannot understand how I was capable of all that. But God did.

Now, there is no longer work outside of the home. There is no endless stream of tasks and responsibilities. There is no reason for them now. And without the focal point, the core of my existence on this earth missing - there is no purpose to my life at the moment.

So when morning comes it is just one of the new realities that I must face. A new day alone. Without a direction. Without the very foundation of my life that I stood upon. No there is none of that now.

My mornings are broken.

Until very recently I do not think I wanted to face the mornings at all. Being taxed emotionally I’m sure was a factor. And the coping that was taking place was off the charts. So the thought of a new day alone and upset really was not all that appealing.

So I slept in. I don’t know - thinking that morning would move on without me? Hardly. It was still there. Taunting me. Well, that’s the way I took it. But the morning was just there - being the morning.

Although my inclination was to try to stay in the darkness of grief, morning would always come around with a gentle nudge and say, “Here I am…come on…”. To which I would say, “Go away…!”.

After the insanely overwhelming pressure of my pre-grief life one of my current mission statements now is that I will not be pushed - at all. For anything. Nope, and you can’t make me. Because I won’t. So there.

This no doubt has contributed to my resistance to the morning.

Recently though there has been a subtle change that I am noticing. I seem to be waking up earlier than I have been. I mean significantly earlier. Many times closer to when I used to get up for work.

I see what time it is and then dive the submarine back under the water. No - I am not ready to get up, thank you.

But it seems to be happening on a more regular basis. And it doesn’t seem to be tied to how early or late I am going to bed. It is more or less the around the same time. So that is interesting.

I often think of a sailboat. It can be all set to go - but unless there is some wind - nothing is really going to happen.

So now, it seems I am in a situation where I am more ready to sail.

There just is no wind to take me anywhere.

In reality - I do not want to go anywhere anyway. Where would I go? For why? And with Who exactly?

Now obligations are another thing - the only thing that gets the boat sailing. When an obligation comes along it makes the boat sail. But the course is more of a circle than a real excursion. These are all short trips - they end rather quickly and at the same place they started.

For now the logic problem I have is still in place. The most amazing and extraordinary person I could have ever been privileged to share my life with is no longer with me. I know to those outside an ultimate loss such as mine only see my life as broken and in need of repair.

I’m sure they do not know any more than I do, about what that repair should be. That’s the problem with supporting someone in grief. They ask - “So how are you doing?”, I reply - “Terrible.”, that doesn’t really give them a lot to work with.

So I am polite and talk around the really awful contentions I have. Because there is not a knowledge-based solution to all of this. For regular people it is uncomfortable to go to such a dark place so they don’t. I know - I was there in my pre-grief life and I could not go there. So I understand.

For the mornings that now come - they are a little less biting. A lot less intense. Perhaps that is progress. At least the very idea of morning is not so distasteful as it has been.

But what to do with the morning? In my day-to-day mode I have things around the house to settle. Things to sort through. As curator of the museum that I now live in - my new job is to put together what needs to be passed on - throw out the irrelevant and find elements to add to the family history I am now in the process of writing. Leaving a legacy is now my job.

It’s not the future by any means. Remember, for now I do not do the future.

But it is the day.

One day. A day to see where it - in its own limited way can take me.

So when the morning comes it is a lot more focused. The future can wait. The day has arrived.

And the morning comes to take me there.

13. Morning is Broken

Written Wednesday, December 4, 2019 / Day 114 / Morning

Ahhh the morning. First light of a new day. A new day filled with opportunities, potential…accomplishments waiting to be fulfilled.

Those are the mornings most experience. But not me. No my mornings are not like that right now.

My mornings are broken.

Of course, my pre-grief mornings were not all that great either. I was still working. Managing the household operations that my wife could not take care of. Trying to keep up with the endless stream of tasks and responsibilities that relentlessly came my way.

Although stressful there was a purpose running through it all. In retrospect I know I was receiving help because I cannot understand how I was capable of all that. But God did.

Now, there is no longer work outside of the home. There is no endless stream of tasks and responsibilities. There is no reason for them now. And without the focal point, the core of my existence on this earth missing - there is no purpose to my life at the moment.

So when morning comes it is just one of the new realities that I must face. A new day alone. Without a direction. Without the very foundation of my life that I stood upon. No there is none of that now.

My mornings are broken.

Until very recently I do not think I wanted to face the mornings at all. Being taxed emotionally I’m sure was a factor. And the coping that was taking place was off the charts. So the thought of a new day alone and upset really was not all that appealing.

So I slept in. I don’t know - thinking that morning would move on without me? Hardly. It was still there. Taunting me. Well, that’s the way I took it. But the morning was just there - being the morning.

Although my inclination was to try to stay in the darkness of grief, morning would always come around with a gentle nudge and say, “Here I am…come on…”. To which I would say, “Go away…!”.

After the insanely overwhelming pressure of my pre-grief life one of my current mission statements now is that I will not be pushed - at all. For anything. Nope, and you can’t make me. Because I won’t. So there.

This no doubt has contributed to my resistance to the morning.

Recently though there has been a subtle change that I am noticing. I seem to be waking up earlier than I have been. I mean significantly earlier. Many times closer to when I used to get up for work.

I see what time it is and then dive the submarine back under the water. No - I am not ready to get up, thank you.

But it seems to be happening on a more regular basis. And it doesn’t seem to be tied to how early or late I am going to bed. It is more or less the around the same time. So that is interesting.

I often think of a sailboat. It can be all set to go - but unless there is some wind - nothing is really going to happen.

So now, it seems I am in a situation where I am more ready to sail.

There just is no wind to take me anywhere.

In reality - I do not want to go anywhere anyway. Where would I go? For why? And with Who exactly?

Now obligations are another thing - the only thing that gets the boat sailing. When an obligation comes along it makes the boat sail. But the course is more of a circle than a real excursion. These are all short trips - they end rather quickly and at the same place they started.

For now the logic problem I have is still in place. The most amazing and extraordinary person I could have ever been privileged to share my life with is no longer with me. I know to those outside an ultimate loss such as mine only see my life as broken and in need of repair.

I’m sure they do not know any more than I do, about what that repair should be. That’s the problem with supporting someone in grief. They ask - “So how are you doing?”, I reply - “Terrible.”, that doesn’t really give them a lot to work with.

So I am polite and talk around the really awful contentions I have. Because there is not a knowledge-based solution to all of this. For regular people it is uncomfortable to go to such a dark place so they don’t. I know - I was there in my pre-grief life and I could not go there. So I understand.

For the mornings that now come - they are a little less biting. A lot less intense. Perhaps that is progress. At least the very idea of morning is not so distasteful as it has been.

It’s not the future by any means. Remember, for now I do not do the future.

But it is the day.

One day. A day to see where it - in its own limited way can take me.

So when the morning comes it is a lot more focused. The future can wait. The day has arrived.

And the morning comes to take me there.

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