Last night one of my Facebook friends shared this article
by David Kushner posted by The New Yorker called,
“Can Trauma Help You Grow?”
It is a beautiful article about loss, hope, and finding a way to live after
losing someone important in your life.
[Click on the hyperlink
on the article name and read it. It's really good and will help give some more context to the rest of
my post.]
In case one day
someone stumbles upon this blog who doesn’t know me/my life well, my dad passed
away on August 25, 2014 from renal cell carcinoma (cancer) that originated in
his kidneys and eventually spread everywhere. A few days ago marked the 2nd
year 7th month since his passing. (Although I don’t typically count
the months anymore. One sign of healing for me I guess.) My dad was the
greatest. He was kind and gentle and calm. He had strong hands and jagged
fingernails from hard work and his habit of biting them. You never questioned
his love or care for you because it was blatantly obvious in the way to spoke
to and treated you. He was selfless and sacrificed constantly for others often
resulting in more work and discomfort for himself. Which he never complained
about. He was a calming force in my family. It’s hard to describe the hole he
left in all our lives. Thus the reason this article caught my attention.
I really liked the entire message, but I’m just going to
focus on the parts that stood out the most to me and felt the most applicable
to my loss and life after loss.
I found it really interesting where he explained the meaning
behind resilience and post-traumatic growth.
Resilience = the
ability to bounce back and move on.
Post-traumatic
growth = when trauma changes and deepens life’s meaning.
It’s not about just continuing to live, but rather living
powerfully and with more meaning than before.
I loved this part, “In his recent book on the phenomenon,
‘What Doesn’t Kill Us,’ Stephen Joseph, a psychologist at the University of
Nottingham, describes victims of trauma experiencing enhanced relationships,
greater self-acceptance, and a heightened appreciation of life. ‘To only look
at the dark side and negative side is to miss out on something very important,’
Joseph told me recently.”
I do feel like that’s all happened for me since losing my
dad. It didn’t happen right away, that’s for sure, or even as simply as Stephen
Joseph stated it, but over the past couple of years I do feel like I’ve tried
to focus more on positive relationships in my life, I have greater
self-appreciation and acceptance, and I have a different outlook on life.
The one thing I deviate from the most is that since
losing my dad I’ve actually pulled back from my family a bit. I have a harder
time dealing with my grief around them because without his calming presence everything
just seems too loud and chaotic. It tends to make it too glaringly obvious he’s
gone and how much we could really use him back. So technically I have not seen
or felt enhanced relationships with my family. Except for maybe my dad’s
sister. I still wouldn’t say we’re super close or anything, but I find myself
wanting to be closer to her since she is the last link to my dad’s family. I
have however felt greater strength and comfort in my close friendships. Those
close friends who feel like family and in a lot of ways know me much better
than my actual family does. For those friendships I am extremely grateful.
When my dad first died I remember seeing old men in town
and thinking how annoying it was that my dad would never get to be an old-old
man since he was only 65 when he died. Time has changed those feelings. Now I
see those old men, frail and needing assistance, and am grateful to know that
my dad will never have to get old and lose his independence. Barely a month
before he died he did a fishing tournament with my brother. Less than 12 hours
before he died he ate our traditional Sunday night dinner of spaghetti and
chocolate cake. Even though he did have some struggles towards the end, they
were brief. And while I’m sad he didn’t get more time I’m happy that he doesn’t
have to spend years in pain, lose his ability to do the things he enjoyed for
an extended period of time, and other struggles that come with advanced age.
I also really liked when it talked about the fact we can’t
choose. Losing our loved one wasn’t our choice. And if given the choice of
course we’d want them back. But the question is… what now? What does their life
mean? What does losing them mean? How will you carryon? Barely surviving? Or
making their life and the impact it had on you mean something.
The author of the article shared a journal entry that his
father had written years after their loss,
“There’s something
built-in that enables most human beings, not all, to be sure, but most, to get
thru this…. It is built-in to enable us to get thru, force us, to survive, to
stay alive. After you’ve understood that it WILL be different, less raw, that
the death can not be undone, that you will continue to live,” he continued,
“the question becomes … ‘What shall I do with the rest of my life?’”
I feel like that is how I want to live going forward. I
can’t change what happened. But what will I do because of that experience. Losing
my dad gave me the courage to be bold and move to Texas in 2015. It reminded me
the importance of having a worthy Priesthood holder in my home/family since we
no longer do without him. It’s helped me try new things I’ve thought about
doing but never attempted – traveling alone, taking dance classes, discovering
new hobbies. His love of reading has been a huge influence in my life since his
passing. I keep finding my way to the book aisles at Target and Walmart and
picking up more books to add to the massive stack I have to read next. I am constantly
trying to find peace and calm in my life and to pull back from the things that
cause chaos and frustration.
One thing I’ve noticed since losing my dad is that I have
a sense of appreciation for other dads. That sounds weird, but what I mean is
that I try to find pieces of my dad in the other dad’s I’m around. Maybe it’s
the way they have treats in their pockets that they’re passing around. Or in
the way they tell a story just a little extra slowly. Or their rough calloused
hands. Little things like that. I enjoy finding pieces of him living on.
The part of the article that spoke to me the most was
when his dad was referencing Anne Morrow Lindbergh’s memoir and said,
“Lindbergh said
that suffering alone doesn’t make for wisdom. One has to remain vulnerable,
open to more suffering and to more love.”
I have a hard time wanting or seeing real love in my
future. Still to this day I cannot picture a happy wedding day for me. Every
time I even pretend to imagine one I find myself sobbing at the thought of
trying to have that day, incorporate my dad somehow into it, and not end up
crying uncontrollably. The even worse alternative would be to leave him out of
it completely.
Perhaps with time I’ll find a way. But I do think I needed
to hear that message from Lindbergh to try and remain open. I know my dad would
want that for me too. I had a memory pop up on Facebook awhile back of a status
update I made in college after my dad had called and asked me if any boys had
swept me off my feet. Not really characteristic of him, but a great memory I’m
glad I recorded.
So until someone comes along with that broom, I will be
here trying to remain open to love.
At the end here I should
probably apologize for this hodge-podge of thoughts pretending to be a coherent
post. All I know is that loss is a tricky and personal beast. This article had
some great reminders and tips I hope to more fully explore in my own life as I
continue to deal with the loss of my dad and the inevitability of future losses.