January 14th
And then there is guilt. I can’t imagine K.B. would ever,
ever want me to feel guilt in regard to her. But I feel it, nonetheless. I feel
guilt over not having responded to an e-mail asking my thoughts on her grade
for the course she was doing (it appeared the day I began a heavy work
commitment that would last several days, but I should not have left it). She
sent me a one-line e-mail—her last to me—on the Monday before she died telling
me that Chris had given her ballroom dancing lessons for Christmas. I hadn’t
gotten around to responding to that one, either, as I was busy with packing to
return here and the next day we were caught up in the turmoil of dealing with
weather-related travel chaos and a cancelled flight.
I know she knew that sometimes I was a procrastinator when
it came to dealing with e-mail, but still. I should not have left that one,
either. I reproach myself constantly for not answering those two e-mails, even
though we exchanged e-mail in between these two occasions.
I feel guilty, too, that today I didn’t cry as much as
yesterday. I daresay the tears spilt at tomorrow’s communion service at our
church and at tomorrow evening’s viewing will make up for any shortage today.
Yet that feeling of “am I grieving enough” crept into my brain. Do I dare to
try to sleep tonight without a pill? And if I am able to sleep unaided, does
that mean that I am slipping back into normalcy, and does normalcy mean I am
shallow, heartless, that I do not love her enough?
I thought the same when I found that today my appetite had
returned. If I have a “good appetite,” does that imply that I am “getting
better”? If I was able to consume a large meal of tasty dishes at Da India
Curry House tonight, how can I truly, truly be grief-stricken? The fact that B.
and I talked about her, that she was ever on my mind (this was the place Wynn
Anne and she had gone to instead of the other Da India nearby--where Maddy and
I were waiting--when we were trying to meet for lunch days before her
wedding)…none of this seems to drive away that feeling that if I can return to
my regular pattern in any way at all that there is some defect in my grieving.
I certainly know this feeling well. Being there just before the CT scan happened and talking to the technician I can't help but feel like I should have been able to do something to stop all it. My "smart brain", as KB called it, tells me that there is no possible way I could have known that anything bad was about to happen. She had been through x-ray and ultrasound already and this was just one more routine test that would hopefully tell us what was causing her pain. There is still part of me that feels like I didn't do enough to keep her safe.
ReplyDeleteKB knew that you had a lot going on with trips and work, she certainly wasn't planning to die so she knew you would get back to her eventually. Her email account is still active and I still send her messages from time to time. It just makes me feel a bit more normal.
Chris, I can't imagine what it must be like to have to deal with these thoughts. With a routine procedure, why would you ever imagine a catastrophic outcome? When I had my gall bladder surgery, I had to sign a form that said that I was aware of the risks (which included death, even though it was minor day surgery). That gave me a moment's pause, but did I choose to forego the operation because of that remote chance of something terrible happening? No, I didn't. Would I pause for a longer time now? Probably. Would I ultimately make a different choice? I just don't know.
ReplyDeleteThanks for the comforting words about her being aware of what was going on with me ("she certainly wasn't planning to die"--too true!). I always felt bad because she loved Christmas soooo much and for me, because of my work, the weeks leading up to it have always been the most stressful of the whole year. I wish I could have shared her Christmas joy with her more.
I love the idea that I can still send her e-mails. I'll get on that!
Ah, the guilt. I've been racked by the feeling that I wasn't as good a friend as she deserved. Those years when the kids were young -- me with my needy brood, her as a single mother -- I wish I had just been there more for her. I feel like she was always the one initiating contact, doing the heavy lifting in our relationship, giving more than she ever received.
ReplyDeleteWynn Anne, I know her love for us knew no bounds, regardless of our shortcomings as friends. And she knew we loved her, too. Every time she would have gotten a letter or an e-mail from you, she would have been delighted; she wouldn't have been annoyed about the length of the gaps in between points of contact. Whenever she talked about you with me--and she talked about you a lot!--it was always with warm affection and with deep satisfaction that she had you in her life.
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