Since you get the grieving out of the way before your loved one dies, you find yourself recovering far sooner than is appropriate. For example:
1. I went back to work Monday. I’m sure there’s some prig saying “Heartless cow” behind my back. But, of course, screw him or her. I mean, that prig isn’t going to keep me at home, but I know this is a prime opportunity for people to participate in competitive mourning.
2. I got back on a message board and someone wrote, “what are you doing here?” This person wasn’t being priggish, but it did make me wonder when I’m “supposed” to be indulging in frivolities again. I know it will get worse later, but right now, I’m in the eye of the hurricane. I estimate I’ve got about a month before I start falling apart again. I should lay low out of respect for Mom, maybe.
3. Because Dave is in town this week, we’re trying to tie up the few, the very few, loose ends Mom left. We need to call the lawyer, and since TeddyJ gives me free brokerage services (tedDY! tedDY!), we saw the broker about rearranging the monies so that Dave isn’t eating cat food. I know that broker was thinking, “Their mother just died less than a week ago, and here they are, cashing in.”
4. I didn’t even look at the broker when Dave and I had this exchange:
Dave: “Shut up.”
Me: “You shut up. Be nice to me. I’ll put you in hospice.”
David: (pokes me)
Me: “I’ll go all hospice on your ass.”
22 responses to “Another Downside to Hospice”
Ooh, can *I* use “I’ll go all hospice on your ass” whenever someone works my last nerve? Because I totally will.
Grieving ahead seems to make for sooner recovery. After Jay, people were amazed at how well I was handling it – for about 11 months. and then one day I decided he’d been dead long enough, and it was time for him to come home now, and I fell down, and didn’t get up again for 2.5 years. You will have your own schedule. You can’t have your feelings on anyone else’s timetable. and those “stages” don’t necessarily come in order, either. You’ll get through it, in your own way. You’re lucky to have Gary.
(That “seems” was supposed to be in italics.)
Who’s to say what’s appropriate grief time? I mean, in my own position, when Dad was diagnosed with cancer, it was already too late. And we knew then that it was unlikely to have a miraculous reversal. We all had 2 years to face it. And then hospice gave us a very clear picture of what to expect. So when the time did come, I think that my family was very prepared for it and it did blunt the pain. And everyone grieves differently. You know, I lost a frend over this when Dad died. She told me I wasn’t crying enough and she was disappointed in my closed off emotional state and that I should trust her more to cry with her. Total BS. I know I was glad to get back to work – something else to think about and make me feel normal again.You just go ahead and do what you need to. And let Gary spoil you when you need it. (And I love the idea of getting hospice on a sibling… 😉
There was overwhelming relief when mom died. The stress of watching someone slip away is HUGE. I was glad it was over. I felt so guilty for not crying more, not feeling what I thought I ought to.Screw anyone else’s expectations.
Welcome back, darlin’! 🙂 P.S. When the hurricane comes back around, you have the Heartless Cows[TM] to help with clean-up, particularly the wine.
1. I couldn’t WAIT to get back to work and some sense of normalcy after a week off for funeral leave. I think that was the last time I ever wanted to be at work.2. I SO use the “You’re going in a nursing home” threat to my Dad when he misbehaves.3. Sorry I’m not at your work anymore to yell “S_____TTY!!” as you came in the door.
Of course you can partake in frivolities again. Only you can know when you are ready for that sort of thing again, and if you say you are, then you are. Just making sure you are ok, you know?
handle it your own way, and let those who feel mourning should be done “by the rules” deal with themselves.You could also say “My mom told me I had 4 days to get over it, and I won’t go against my mom”. Or “Oh, you mean I should sit in the dark and moan over something I can’t change, exactly the way my mother would have hated for me to do?”Some religions set aside only 3 days for mourning. Maybe someone didn’t get you the casserole they made in time…
I love the phrase competitive mourning. At the last funeral in our family it was amazing how differently people were handling it. My mom – whose heart I know was breaking – was acting normally. Her sister was walking around all maudlin and hand wringy…And I can’t believe she was that sad. Me…. I cry at everything. It’s just me. But the deceased was a crier too, so I let the waterworks flow for her. I’d like to think she’d be proud of the amount of mascara I lost on her behalf.
regardless of your state, your written/presence on any forum is always welcomed and appreciated it. . .indulge in the frivolties, they make the pain in whatever form/timetable it takes a little easier to deal with. . .
oops i meant *frivolities
I usually go about my “merry” way for a while and then one night, in the dark, it hits me. I imagine that will happen to you, but when is hard to say. I’m not sure I ever really grieved my parents…I just went straight to missing them.
I, for one, wish you had taken one more day off. Then you wouldn’t have given me all that shit for wearing a collared sweater instead of a jacket on Monday.I was going to ask our Mormon friend to make funeral potatoes for you, but the lack of a funeral made that seem an odd request.
Catherine – Feel free.~~Silk – Yeah, I know. I’ve heard enough people say “It’s been six months, get over it already,” to know month six is usually when it starts.Kim – Oh, I have a big hate on for your ex-friend. How officious and priggish.Zayrina – My tears right after she died were all relief.Friend #3 – Tunaface.Friend #0.5 – Up it to hospice. That’ll scare him.Melissa – And thank you, really, I knew it was in good faith.Sherri – “Maybe someone didn’t get you the casserole they made in time…” So TRUE! It was a TUNA Casserole and Friend #3 ate it.Amy in StL – Mom called me a crybaby at the hospital. She would want me to be calm.Keri – I feel like Scarlett O’Hara at the auction, though. Dancing. I remember Mom rolling her eyes at someone laughing during Dad’s funeral. Your advice is appreciated, though.Candy – I grieved my Dad most after 6 months. The day I realized I hadn’t thought about him for a day.Caroline – You could follow Friend #3’s example: make Funeral Potatoes, then eat them yourself.
Not ashamed, as you blew off my tuna casserole because someone already made you one.
I think the rule is, do whatever you want, as long as you wear black underwear for a year and don’t dance with Rhett Butler.And you may only wear hair jewelry.http://www.historic-northampton.org/601081/601508/800/
Friend #3 – If I recall, I “blew off” your casserole after you said, “but I ate it.”Incognito – (Hi…incognito!) That is giving me the willies. Except the acorns, those are kind of nice.
First: I’m an occasional visitor, and this is my first chance to say how sorry I am. (How sorry? Uh: very. Very very.)Your observation about hospice speeding up the initial grieving process proved true for me, too; the day after Dad died, I horrified my academic advisor by spending six hours in the archaeology lab working on a project. Hell, we had a deadline. Besides, the hard part was _before_ he died. I don’t suppose the broker was really judging you; more likely he found it refreshing to have a family competent to cope with the practicalities, especially with a sense of humor. Speaking as one who spurred a funeral director into a braying fit of spitting laughter during a consultation, I’ll observe that people who deal with death or estate planning usually manage to keep it in perspective.Again: How sorry? Very sorry. She sounded like a heck of a woman. As do you.
Elsa, you’ve commented before, I remember you – yep, the hard part is before they die, that is for sure. I applaud you for getting the funeral director to laugh~!
I can sympathize with the work thing. When my mom died, I went straight back to work. As I recall, she conveniently did it on a Friday night, so I’m not even sure I took a single day off.People at work had all sorts of opinions about this, but the truth was that either I was going to sit at home wallowing unconstructively in that piquant mixture of sorrow, rage, guilt, and relief, or I was going to do something useful with my time and also distract myself from all these unresolvables by going to work and thinking about other people. I did not have a breakdown or one day enter a fugue state or anything else. I just went on with my life. All those feelings came along with me, of course, and resolved themselves or not over time.Anyone who would judge me for any of this can go sit on a tack. Likewise anyone who would judge you.IMHO.
Sara – That’s true. They can sit on a tack and suckmahballz. Or they can talk to my boss, to whom I conveniently lost my shit before Mom died.