Grief is weird. And there are hundreds of weird moments that happen as you navigate seemingly exhaustive changing emotions throughout the process. At times, the weird lessens and normalcy enters, yet there are still times when the weird takes centerstage. Today, for me, that was the case.
As many of you know, we elected to have my late husband participate in a body donor program that helps with research and advancing medical knowledge of operation procedures. I knew a year ago that the program would last about a year and then, when, as they say, “He completed the program,” they would call to let me know. I got that call today.
The next step is they will ship Josh's ashes to me. Ideally, I should be home because I will need to sign for this extremely special delivery - and I don’t really want to go to the post office to pick it up if I miss it.
For the most part, landing on the year anniversary - and then some - I felt like I had hit all the significant milestones, but alas there is still this significant one to face. Trying not to compare but. . . often as part of the memorial service there is also a burial and this part of the process doesn’t linger. In this case, it feels like I have extended the process - in a very different kind of way.
There is a near sinking, pit of my stomach feeling as I think about Josh’s body being done with the program. And although, I know his personhood, soul, heart, mind and all that is (was) Josh hasn’t been here on earth since last Sept. 30, a part of me still felt like he was here as part of the donor program.
These feelings are probably linked to the part of my heart that is still bargaining and trying to create a different reality overall. Either way, I sit here on this Oct 13 evening - wondering what to do with the overall weirdness that is today’s grief narrative. I cannot help but wish for another hug or another look at Josh’s face. I miss him still and don't expect this will go away.
Yes, my grief stings less this October than last and I have found my footing more -- even when there are moments covered in a fog of weird. There are times when my emotions aren't sure what to do with it all - and I'm figuring out some areas where grief has indeed changed me. It's a continual process of analyzing my own heart and mind that is still very much here. The figuring out process is both hopeful and confusing at times - which again I think can be chalked up to a general feeling of W.E.I.R.D. ---- :)
Truthfully, we are all weird, whether in grief or not. It's really great that people still love us even if our weird slips out! This is something to be very much grateful for - both being loved in our weird and having the opportunity to love another weirdo. :)
Hi! It's Jenn Brown, writing my story that is now slightly different as we enter a season of new grief. On September 30, 2019, my dear husband Josh passed away after battling brain cancer.