Sunday, September 14, 2014

Day 198: Ah-hah! (Or Why I Can't Get Out of Bed)

September 13, 2014

Ah-ha! It's the weather change. This slight chill in the air and first few leaves dropping are why I fell down the grief hole yesterday, the day before, and a bit today. Why getting out of bed before noon (or one day at 3pm) feels like a chore. Why the sobbing has returned.

I remember the same thing happening at the hint of spring. The flowers nearly blooming. And again at the arrival of the thick summer heat. Each season comes with its own compartmentalized memories with G. And each season's approach says, "Ready? Ready to remember? I'm pulling the bandaid off in 3...2...1..."

This season, this advance into chilly air, brings sitting on the grass at last year's Shakespeare festival in Busan, a trip to see the changing leaves in Samseonggung, the feel and smell of his grey button-down sweater, warm tea and poetry in our favorite teahouse, warm lips on a cold walk, warm embraces, warmth. The coming chill reminds me that I miss the warmth. His warmth. No wonder I stay in bed, reluctant to greet the chill that's normally welcomed after a long, hot summer.

Thanksgiving 2 years ago at the apartment in Hadong. Warm food. Warm slippers.
Goofing in a coffee shop in Daegu. Warm coffee. Warm snacks. Warm stolen kisses.
At Samseonggung to check out the fall leaves. Warm sweater. Warm arms. Warm lips.
Sitting in Yoger Presso in Hadong making Halloween decorations for the classroom. Warm laughter.
Last Thanksgiving. Hard memory as G. was really struggling on this day and there seemed to be little I or anyone else could do to help. I can see it in his face here. Makes me sad.   
Samseonggung again. As magical as it appears. Warm colors. Warm tea house. Warm embraces.
Fall brought seeking warm meals. Here at Baru in Gyeongju.
At the old apartment in Gyeongju. There's that warm sweater and warm humor coming out.
I will ride these upcoming waves with the chilly air and the changing leaves because, well, because I have to, really. And winter will come- the hardest season, I think. The marker of so many things: my birthday, Christmas, New Years, the struggles with G. of last January, his fall at the end of February, and death in early March.

My friend Heather is the one to have pointed out that the change in the seasons brings on the largest waves. She made the comment one evening while I was walking Philopena through a nearby university campus and talking with Heather on the phone. It was in the early days of spring. The weather was changing. Just a tad warmer and flowers were threatening to bloom. It's usually such a welcomed time for me and here I was knocked down- flattened by grief, after a period of what looked like "getting better."

"It's the change in the season," Heather said. "With a new season comes all new reminders and memories. You miss him all over again." She was right.

And that holds true now with our tip-toeing into fall. What worked last spring and again last summer when I experienced the same thing is what will work now. Acknowledge it. Talk about it to people who get it. Let myself get swept under and pop back up again for a quick breath. Sleep a bit more. Get out for a walk when I can. Write about it.

And know it will pass.

1 comment:

  1. I will be thinking about you as you navigate this spiral staircase of grief and wishing I could magically fly over and give you hugs, and cry together.