Embracing the Silence: My Two-Month Absence and the Slow Journey Back to Reading

My last post was May 26, and I knew I was remiss in getting a post uploaded.  However, on June 15, just a short time after I posted a picture on Instagram of our new kitties, my Mother suddenly became gravely ill. Within twelve hours, she had passed away, and my sister and I were stunned as we returned home in the early hours of the next day.  For those of you who have experienced bereavement, you know that numb, sleepwalking, otherworldly feeling that takes over. Fast forward six plus weeks, and I am slowly starting to climb my way out of my shell.  I wanted to share my experience, and perhaps it may help you as well.

Having lost a father and a husband, I am not a stranger to grief.  However, the speed with which our mother passed away was unbelievable.  Rationally, I knew what had happened; however, I felt stunned, numb, and lost.  A friend described it as if you have glasses on and the color of the world and your life is seen through a different lens.  My siblings and I jumped forward and began to handle and plan all that comes when a loved one passes on. I think we are designed to go into triage, planning mode as a way to protect our hearts and souls from grief and hurt.   

The first couple of weeks were walking through the motions.  It felt as if life was going on for everyone else, but not me.  Sleeping has been a struggle for me in my adult years, but in the first couple of weeks, I slept so deeply.  As the weeks progressed, my insomnia returned.  And the complete exhaustion that comes with grief.- the ache that settles in the marrow of your bones also arrived.

Returning to work proved to be a good diversion for me, as I compartmentalized and just got on with it.   During this time, I tried to read, but I found my concentration was sorely lacking.  No matter what book I picked up, I struggled through a page or two, and they held no interest.   I finally picked up a couple of short story collections, thinking that those might do the trick and provide the much-needed mental diversion. Even Agatha Christie's short stories missed the mark. 

At this point, I figured there was nothing for it but to accept what I could control at the moment.  The escape proved to be the wonderfully charming and cozy Father Brown, which I restarted in Season 2.  I am not certain why I skipped season 1, but I did.  The antics of Father Brown, Mrs. McCarthy, and Lady Felicia in the idyllic English Cotswolds is balm for my soul.   I am currently on Season 5, but have enjoyed dips into PBS Masterpiece Patience and the Magpie Murders.

But I am starting to revisit books, and as each week passes, I can concentrate a bit more. I just finished Richard Osman's The Last Devil to Die, and what a great read.   I had started this book before my mother passed away, and it took all this time to go back and revisit the escapades of the murder solving pensioners.  I laughed out loud while reading this book, but also wept.   There is something about the candid and almost innocent thoughts of Joyce during the book that makes it all the more enjoyable.   

I have seen on YouTube that some people have continually read during their grief and what a balm it was to them.  But one thing I know about grief is that it is messy and it is different for every person.   So much of our reactions to grief can also be tied to the relationships we have with our loved ones.  Luckily, I was blessed to have a wonderful relationship with my Mother, which also included being a friend.

For me, I did not and still do not want anything too heavy or dark to read.  Cozy, thoughtful people and a little murder are fine.  As long as it is the good English kind of genteel murder.  A good neighbor has given me a whole pile of English magazines on gardening and decorating.  These have been a joy to go through, perusing the lovely photographs and reading the publication-length articles.  I curl up in one of my reading chairs and slowly work my way through the magazine. It is such a joy and comfort.

Reading is our friend, and if we can find a way back if we have had a separation, it does not matter one whit whether it is a magazine, book, cookbook, or whatever else crosses your path.  There is something about reaching back out to that friend and knowing that it is waiting for you to return.

Like I mentioned before, grief moves at its own pace, and it is important to be kind to yourself.  Some of the lessons I learned when I lost my husband was to be reasonable in your expectations of what you can do.  Things that might have been effortless suddenly require a level of energy and focus that may not be there.  And if it is not there, that is alright.  Also, I try not to compare myself to anyone and what they did in their grief journey.   People mean well and sometimes say the inanest things.  I learned to give those people grace, and let’s be honest, it can be difficult to know what to say to someone who has lost a loved one.  Sometimes there is nothing to say but “I am sorry for your loss.”

So, as I draw this to a close, I am still walking the journey of grief, for if you love someone, you must also embrace loss.  To quote CS Lewis “Grief is like a long valley, a winding valley where any bend may reveal a totally new landscape.”

So I shall hop back in the pond and start paddling along, and endeavour to share those books that I encounter on my journey.

Best,

Sharon