I found this blooming in the ditch this morning totally out of season.
Today it is seven days counting the day of my surgery. The incision is still ugly but healing, the bruise is fading, what’s left turning yellow and brown. Yesterday I picked up the rest of the debris, all small stuff, in the little backyard adding to the big pile there. This morning when I let the dog out I cleared the front yard making a small pile on edge of the street. The county is supposed to be coming around and picking up storm debris starting tomorrow. I’d like to move some of the piles around here to the street before they get to our neighborhood but it probably won’t happen because I’m still being very conservative in my activity. Maybe the small one on the side yard, maybe the small one in the front yard but the monster in the side yard and the one in the little backyard will take much longer to move. And of course, the big backyard hasn’t even been touched. I tried to torch the burn pile yesterday but with all the rain we’ve been having it wouldn’t catch. Maybe Monday as long as the rain holds off. Unfortunately, it’s forecast to rain every day next week.
Yesterday Marc drove me down the county road I take to get to the grocery store. There were five enormous, 50 year old at least, pecan trees down, keeled over uprooted, just on that short stretch alone. I’m still astounded by how much damage that category 1 hurricane did.
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My sister’s sudden and completely unexpected death had a profound impact on me beyond just the loss of my best friend and main companion other than my husband. It really just took the wind out of my sails and, in retrospect, made me hyper sensitive to my own mortality which I see as the core cause of all the medical stuff I’ve been going through the last two months. Instead of recognizing an intense afib episode for what it was, I basically panicked which sent me to the ER which led to all those tests which led to the false aneurysm diagnosis and everything that followed that. Really, the only procedure I needed was the afib ablation because the medication was no longer controlling it. How many years have I taken off my life as a result of two months of panic, all that anesthesia?
It impacted me in other ways too. In my grief I lost all motivation to do anything creative. The broken water pipe at the studio has been fixed but I still haven’t bothered to get Marc to go over and turn the valve back on (I can’t get it to budge), I put away my colored pencils, sketchbook, and watercolors. I have the fabric to make a new skirt but haven’t gotten my sewing machine out, I bought all those new crystals and still haven’t hung them. Gardening, yoga, and SHARE have been my only activities and it’s too hot to garden now even if I wasn’t still recovering from all those procedures.
Well, one of my readers, David, has, unintentionally I’m sure, kicked me in the butt. I’m going to get my colored pencils, sketchbook, and watercolors and paper out and put them on the small work table. That may be as far as I get today but it’s a step forward.
Tuesday my niece and her husband will arrive. Our plan is to go through Pam’s old house and start clearing away some of the stuff. Nothing has been gotten rid of at this point and it’s time to pack up her life. The furniture will stay except for two pieces that have no real value, just taking up space in an overcrowded house. Next Saturday all the family will gather once again to scatter her ashes as she requested and when that is done I think I will be able to finally let her go. I need to start making again.
I certainly haven't been through all that you've had to endure, but there's no question that when multiple burdens show up, toting them can be hard. Sometimes, we just say "No mas" and stop. Work difficulties, combined with the heat, the storm, and a variety of other issues certainly have slowed me down. The bird perched on its sticks I posted today was as much a "let's get this thing rolling again" post as anything else. Just getting it up, and getting my next post for The Task at Hand drafted feels like a crack in the dam: good, in this case. Pick up a pencil or brush, and I'll bet the same thing will happen for you.
ReplyDeleteHealing from grief is a process. I'm glad you feel prepared to move forward, but you may move backwards too. (As I'm sure you know!) I'm not at all surprised by your response, worrying about your own health. I'd have done the same thing. Rather than suspecting you took years off your life, maybe you can get some reassurance from all the medical exams and procedures you had, knowing that you're pretty much OK after all!
ReplyDeleteThis is so very familiar. In my case, it wasn't a death or grief, or maybe just the death of my future plans and grief for my health, but I found myself with a similar kind of stupor, lack of incentive, purpose for a long time and it's not gone altogether. I now make lists on post it notes that are stuck on my monitor and I force myself to do the stuff, whether it's "cut fringe" or "bottle pears" or "sand down desk work top". The anger and the loss was huge at the time, now it is part of my life.
ReplyDeleteAs for the death bit, it's the one reality we can count on and we better face that while we can. And grief: Every case, every person, every situation is different. Give yourself permission to grieve in precisely the way you need to.
You will work it out, give it time.
You've been through a lot in many ways. I'm glad you're getting ready to make again. Bit by bit. It takes a long time. And grief does impact your health, as you know. It will get better.
ReplyDeleteEllen, don't shoot me but I need to ask- are you going to sing "Free Fallin'? when you spread Pam's ashes? (Dear god I hope I just made you laugh.)
ReplyDeleteI think that making art is about the best idea I've heard in a long time.
I love that you're considering the possibility of art again. It's something you can do while sitting down in a cool place (yes, you can see my priorities). Pam's death was HUGE - it makes sense that it will take a while to recover, in all kinds of ways.
ReplyDeleteI know what you mean about the grief. It can make you physically sick. I am happy to hear that you are going to get back in your groove.
ReplyDeleteLosing a sibling that you were close to is hard. Friend, confidant, companion, all gone. It's going to take awhile.
ReplyDeleteA hurricane is not designed to be of great help when recovering from surgery, both physically and emotionally, but you seem to be doing it well, Ellen. You are a strong person. Good luck with progressing further every day.
ReplyDeleteI'm glad you are able to do a little more each day and are doing a great job of taking it slowing but surely. Celebrating your sister's life will be comforting for all of you and I'm sure many lovely and funny stories will be shared. How nice that you are ready to start working with your art again. That's a great idea, Ellen.
ReplyDeleteYou're still grieving. That may be true from here on. But yes, you are a maker, and your art will return. We go through sowing cycles and gathering cycles. Right now you are in a gathering cycle, collecting the emotional raw material that will fuel your next round of art, when you reenter a sowing cycle. Be gentle with yourself. Your sister was your person.
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