My experience of grieving… so far

How am I supposed to be able to describe what feels like a dream and make you understand that it is real?

At the best of times I have difficulty really expressing my feelings. Now I am describing them when I’m not only in the midst of a depression, but also while I’m grieving.

My friend Karen Haffey died on September 23, 2013 at approximately 12:45am, 10 weeks after having received a double lung transplant. I was part of her care team, helping to support her recovery.

Sometime in August, I began struggling with my mood, and I didn’t want to bring that to her. I guess she was on to me, though, as she sent me this text message (from the hospital) on Sept 15:

 

 

My response:

 

We had a short visit that night, and one of Karen’s relatives was there, too.

I took a short video of Karen thanking her team members and her donor and their family for coming along so far.

We were going to use that video as part of a fundraising campaign so that she could come home to her own apartment and receive the care she needed as she continued to recover.

She was strong, had had all of her various tubes removed, and was participating in tracking her progress that day.

After leaving her that day, she sent the following message:

 

 

In both of her messages to me, she said “I love you”. I did not respond directly to that. And I feel horrible. Why didn’t I respond? Fear. Just fear. I chose fear instead of trusting the truth of her words and letting myself be vulnerable enough to not only accept but reciprocate them.

 

Since Karen’s death, I have cried. And cried. And I have felt my hollow fuzzy soul through my tears. I have felt the guilt of not responding to her intimate messages. I swim in and out of confusion, disbelief, denial and  the pain of not understanding why. Being busy with the details of organizing and planning her memorial on Nov 2 has been a distraction. But now that that’s all over, there is a big, big space.

I don’t want that space to fill up with anger, emptiness or endless meaning-seeking journeys. But I want this to be purposeful. I want to keep speaking and to share my story.

After all, that’s what Karen did for me since the day we met – she believed in my ability to tell stories, and assured me that my story needed to be shared.

Thank you Karen.

I love you (I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you that sooner).