Side effect #342

As I lay in bed this morning, just this side of awake, a task that I have not yet done came drifting into my consciousness.  That's not an uncommon event in my life, by any means, and it made me realize again that there are so very many side effects of losing Ramsy.  This one: memory lapses.

During the year that Ramsy was in treatment, all kinds of details and events and even relationships became peripheral.  This was natural and typical, I believe; when you suddenly have to organize crucial medical/financial/insurance details/appointments/paperwork and keep them organized, other things have to fall away.  After he died, there were all kinds of other new details/processes/experiences to deal with, and other things continued to fall away.  Your short-term memory only has so much space, apparently, and, like the PVR on our tv, will automatically delete other stuff to make room for the new stuff.

The distressing thing for me about this is that, although it's completely understandable and normal, it turns out that I actually have no control over which things my brain deletes.  One of those things is people's names, even the names of people I've known well for years.  I still experience moments of panic when I run into this person or that and realize that there is just a big empty spot where their name should be in my memory.  And if I'm pretty sure that, say, their name starts with an "L", I'm usually wrong.

Another weird thing my brain does is to fail to connect the dots between stored bits of information.  I will arrange to be in two different places at the same time, not because I forget about either appointment, but because my brain declines to take into account the fact that it takes more than four and a half seconds to drive from one place to the other.  Or another example: I do not forget personal stuff that my friends tell me - that is, when it comes up again in conversation, the information is not a surprise to me, or I recall that I did in fact know this at an earlier time, but I will have absolutely failed to think of it in the intervening time.

That really bothers me.  Partly because it's so annoying to have to say over and over, "I'm sorry, I'm going to be late," partly because it's disturbing to recognize that to some extent I am not in control of my own mind, and partly because in our home, people and relationships have been our focus and our actual work for 20 years and it upsets me that I would neglect to check in with people about important stuff in their lives.

I know that many people will say, "Don't be so hard on yourself during this stage," and I think that I am remembering to be kind to myself, to remember that this is a long and arduous process.  It's just a new process for me, and the twists and turns and complications continue both to surprise and to fascinate.  I think I just want to make a note of this for myself and for others: this, too, sucks - but it's ok.

Backstory blues

Man, it's a long time since I collected my thoughts and set them down here.  The month has sped by with Christmas travels, preparing to start my new teaching job, and finding my footing in the classroom.  I am enjoying my students very much.  I spend a lot of my time thinking about them, and about school, and about lessons, and not much else at this stage (besides how badly my dishes need to be washed, etc.).  I know that after a few more weeks my mind will have room for other stuff, but I'm ok with mentally being at school most of the time right now.

I had an unexpected encounter recently, however, which reminded me that even though our lives have certainly been shaken up, our reality permanently altered, not everyone knows that.  It was pretty typical of the awkward situations that spring up out of nowhere, and which I wish I could learn to handle gracefully.  Here's a sampling of the sometimes funny, sometimes painful, and often odd moments we run into:

• when the salesperson looks up my account on the computer via my phone number and says, "Are you Ramsy?"
• when a high school teacher asks my child, "Are your parents coming to parent-teacher interviews?"
• when I inform the very young bank teller that I wish to make a withdrawal from my husband's estate account and she responds with, "Is it a joint account?" 
• when an old friend from 20 years ago, not even knowing that I was married to a music guy, asks if I still sing.
• when a person I worked with a few years ago sees me in line at Wal-mart and asks how things are going since she last saw me.

What are the right answer to these questions?  Sometimes the dilemma is that the short answer, which is all there's time for, is not the truthful answer.  Sometimes the setting does not allow for a complete explanation.  Sometimes you are so stunned at the incongruity of the question that you can't think of what to say.  And mostly, you are choked by the backstory- the facts and memories and growth and history and tears and all of it- and it leaves no room for the short answer to make its way out.

I keep thinking that I will get used to this, that I will learn to expect the unexpected and have some kind of answer prepared, and I always end up with my mouth hanging open instead. 

Ah, well.

And anyway, the more I run into this experience, the more I become aware that so many, many people feel the same about questions that we ask as a matter of course.  "How many grandchildren do you have now?"  "Where is your wife tonight?"  "Are you still working there?"  "When are we going to see you at the altar?"  I think most of us are actually in the same boat; it's just hard to figure out how to let each other know the backstory.

Noel

Come, thou long-expected Jesus,
    born to set thy people free.
From our fears and sins release us;
     let us find our rest in thee.
Israel's strength and consolation,
     hope of all the earth thou art.
Dear desire of every nation,
     joy of every longing heart.


Peace to you all.

Forward

It's December 1st, a date that makes me happy.  I love the Christmas season (even the shopping, yes) and this year feels quite different from last year.  Last year I was dazed and numb and a little mad about it.  I felt angry sometimes that I could no longer enjoy all the things I usually liked, that I didn't even care about some of them at all.  The mall was full of corners where Ramsy and I had spent time over the previous year and it was so strange to be there without him.  Everything felt strange.  The trade-off, though, was that I was also full to the brim of deep thankfulness for the reality behind Christmas: that Jesus came to help us, that he will make everything right, that Ramsy is well and whole because of that, and that I have a place here for now.

This year some of the old excitement has returned to me, and I have energy to put into the traditions around here.  Here's what we're looking forward to:

• opening a little Advent gift today instead of chocolate Advent calendars this year. And opening the little windows on my paper Charlie Brown Advent calendar!  
• the kids' school Christmas concerts.  
• decorating the house.  Paper snowflakes and vintage ball ornaments suspended from thread in our living room; stockings hung by the window; real wreath on the front door and real tree in the house, covered with the eclectic mix of ornaments we've assembled over the last 20 years, including some from Ramsy's and my childhood.
• eating the fruitcake I baked with a friend a couple of weeks ago.  Yes, I actually like fruitcake.  A lot.  
• baking sugar cookies with my kids, cut out in fun shapes and decorated with icing and sprinkles.  
• seeing family and friends who live far away.
• hearing all 3 kids sing in our church Christmas Eve choir.  
• getting cards in the mail.  (I love mail!)  Maybe reading or hearing some new Ramsy stories.  
• watching A Charlie Brown Christmas, Elf, A Christmas Carol, Holiday Inn...
• filling up a mini-scrapbook that I made (thanks, aliedwards.com!) with pictures and memories of all this 

The other thing I am preparing for with great anticipation is the start of a half-time teaching position from January to June.  One of the teachers at our school will be on maternity leave, and I've been hired to teach Language Arts every morning (my favourite subject!  Woo hoo!) to the Grades 3-5.  Subbing has been a great way to ease back into work, and this feels like a very natural next step.

I've also been invited to speak at a couple of events in the new year, sharing our family's story and the way God has met us in the midst of all the chaos.  

I feel like I'm back.  For now, at least.  Even when I miss Ramsy so much, even when I feel the hole, I'm ready to celebrate.

Spiral curriculum

Don't you love it when you learn something in a work setting and then discover that it also applies to other aspects of your life?  When I was in the Education program in BC, one of the terms we learned was "spiral curriculum".  In a spiral curriculum a topic within a subject is repeated from grade to grade, even through to Grade 12, adding more complexity each year.  For example, the topic of "community" might be part of the social studies curriculum in every grade.  In Kindergarten the kids learn the basics about what a community is and about neighbourhood workers such as doctor, fire fighter, store clerk; in later grades the topic is examined again, expanding to include citizenship, how geography affects community development, economy, and law. When we learned this term, I found it interesting, but not particularly relevant outside of the school setting.

But over the past 17 years, this term has come to mind often in my personal life. Where it has been significant to me is in the realm of life lessons and character development.  You go through any experience once, and you learn something (or lots of things).  You go through it again, and you carry that new knowledge with you and build on it and end up with a different level of understanding.  Each experience will be slightly different, even if they happen in the same setting or with the same people, partly because you are different.

As I've come into the beginning of the second year after Ramsy's death, I've been surprised to find myself in the middle of another spiral curriculum.  (Go figure- you'd think that by now I'd stop being surprised by anything....)  Around the middle of October I noticed a return of the mental fog, nausea, dizziness and weeping that set in last October, right after Ramsy died.  I had expected, certainly, to feel emotional this October as we approached his birthday, the anniversary of when he had first noticed troublesome symptoms, and the date of his resignation from church; but I was absolutely not expecting those physical symptoms of grief to revisit me.  The good thing about having covered this "topic" before in my experience last year was that this time I didn't have to wonder if the dizziness and nausea were signs of something wrong, and I knew that these things would eventually pass in their own time.  This time around, they are an expression of the understanding I have of the wider implications of the loss of my husband, rather than the first bewildered shock of being here without him.  It's the same thing, but with wider meanings this time around the spiral. 

Now we're on to November, the month of his first seizure and trip to emergency and biopsy and diagnosis and all I know to do is remind myself to expect the unexpected. 

Hey, birthday boy

That was one awesome cake-bakin' mama you had!

One year

And missing you is just a part of living,

missing you feels like a way of life.

I'm living out the life that I've been given

but baby, I still wish you were mine.

-Amy Grant


and

Peace, peace!  
He is not dead, nor doth he sleep- 
He hath awakened from the dream of life.

-Shelley