The Beginning of Year Two

I suspect I may no longer have an audience. It has been two full months since I wrote an entry, and I suspect you may all have given up on checking to see if I’ve written. Either way it’s okay – maybe it means we are all progressing.

I last wrote at the one year mark. Since then I have been reflecting a lot. The common wisdom in grieving is that one year somehow marks a transition in recovery – that it marks a point beyond which we will start to feel better. But I have learned from new friends in similar situations that this is not always true.

For me though, one year does seem to have made a difference. I don’t mean that I am through the sadness. It’s more that my head seems clearer somehow. The past two months have been a very reflective time for me. I see the grieving I have gone through in more of a rearview mirror now rather than being mired in it every minute. I remain amazed at the fact that grieving is so much more complex than I ever dreamed. I had always assumed that grieving simply equated to deep, extreme sadness. And of course that is a big component of it. But I was totally unprepared for how irrational and confusing and uncontrolled and crazed grief is. And now in hindsight, I see the strength you all have seen in me for the past year.

You know how much I have not liked to hear comments on my strength. I did not feel strong, and also felt that observations of my strength meant that I did not appear to be grieving Kirk as much as he was worth. I see now though what you all meant. The strength is in the sheer perseverance and fortitude it took just to survive this. To keep breathing, keep walking, keep getting up every day. To keep living and not give up. To somehow try to find myself inside me and not become someone I do not want to be – someone so lost and sad that the old me disappears forever.

So now I see what you saw all along. And also, I am finding new strength. I actually even feel powerful since one year passed. Why? Because I have survived the worst. I'm not done surviving it, but I'm still here, and I feel confident things will not get worse, so I will be able to keep going. Unless something happens to Erika or Matt, I have come through the worst thing that will ever happen in my lifetime. If someone I cared about got angry with me or hurt me, it would not be worse than losing Kirk. If I lost my job right now, it would not be worse than losing Kirk. If my house burned down or a tornado hit, it would not be worse than losing Kirk. If I piss off half the people in the legal system while trying to move the case forward, and they roll their eyes when I call, it won’t be worse than losing Kirk. If I found out I had a life threatening disease right now, it would not be worse than losing Kirk. This equates to a feeling of freedom and power. It enables me to take risks I previously would have hesitated to take. I am more open with people in general and worry less about them judging me. I confide more in those closest to me and do not fear their potential rejection once they know what is really inside me. I push the envelope at work more, to drive what I believe to be best for the company and the employees – I adopt more risk and do not concern myself with worrying I will step on someone’s toes. It's quite a freeing way to look at life, and allows me to throw off the conventions I would normally have leaned toward.

Sometimes though, I have moments where this feeling of power tips over the edge into a feeling of not caring. The other day I got up in the morning and as I stood in the shower before work, I realized that if someone told me it was time for me to die, right that minute, I would not care. Not even a little. I would just say okay and go about it. The feeling passed, but for a little while I didn't care if I lived or died. I didn't WANT to die - I just didn't care.

Another time I was driving on the back roads near my house. My car is pretty powerful, and I had a strong urge to just open it up and go – fast and hard without regard for the curves and blind spots. The only thing that held me back was the thought that it would be the exact behavior that someone else killed Kirk with. Had it not been for my concern for others, if I could have been assured I was the only one at risk, I think I would have done it, just for the feeling of freedom. I’m not talking about wanting to crash the car – I just wanted to feel the rush of it, and felt no sense of self-preservation. These moments don’t last too long, but they are disconcerting. I know I have to be careful not to let the power and freedom from risk I now feel turn into recklessness.

The biggest developments of all though since the anniversary happened about one week later. Our very close friends Mark and Nancy came for a visit. It was a visit I very much looked forward to, but also worried about. They visited us every year in early spring since we moved away from home six years ago. Mark Nancy Lisa Kirk. We met about 25 years ago, and our lives ran in parallel. Our kids are close in age, and grew up together, with many family outings and get-togethers (not to mention more than a few near-misses, injuries, even a trip to the emergency room, but everyone survived). We experienced financial struggles at the same time, and worried how we would ever make it sometimes. There were hard times in both marriages, but we all managed to persevere and end up in a much better place. Mark and Kirk both had job losses at times and the frustrations of starting over. We were initially bound by the similarities in our lives, and that bond strengthened and grew through shared experiences.

Like any close friends, we had our own dynamic, our own rhythms and patterns and habits. And of course we had subrelationships within the group. Kirk and Mark were best friends, and spent many many days hunting and fishing. They talked on the phone virtually every day since we moved away – sometimes multiple times a day. Any time one of them saw or did something funny, or caught a big fish, or got a new toy, they had to call the other one right away. I used to tell Kirk they were like a couple of women, they talked on the phone so much. Kirk and Nancy, on the other hand, were the reckless pair of the four of us. Always wanting to skinny dip or do some other ridiculous thing Mark and I would never do, and telling us we were no fun when we squashed the plan. They were close though too – they confided in each other, and had their own relationship that was not dependent on me or Mark for facilitation or ease. Within the group of four, Kirk was clearly the ringleader – always the one with the idea, the joke, the plan. Always the one out front, making the rest of us laugh, always doing something unexpected, even though we should never have been surprised at the behavior of a man we had known and loved for decades. But he could always find a new angle, a new twist. The last time we were all together we were in Wal-Mart, and when we were checking out Kirk (of course) was the one interacting with the cashier. He was making her laugh, and the other three of us were standing by and rolling our eyes and shaking our heads at the ridiculous things he was saying. Suddenly he pointed at the three of us, and said to the cashier “One of these three has been farting in the car. Which one do you think it was?” We were all shocked, including the cashier. Particularly since no one had been farting at all. We all started laughing, and of course it was even funnier when she decided to actually answer and picked Mark as the obvious culprit.

Although I have seen Mark and Nancy several times since Kirk died, and have kept in frequent touch, this visit would be the first time it would be just the three of us for an extended period of time. I was kind of worried about it - I think we all were. Would it be uncomfortable? Would we be able to be anything but sad? Nancy had been to the house since it all happened but Mark had not, and for anyone who had been there before Kirk died, coming to our home and not seeing him there is hard – how would it be for Mark to be there without him? What about the accident site – to go there or no? We were planning to go out on the boat – could we handle being out there without him? Lots of questions and trepidation. Most of all, who would we be without Kirk, the most defining and dominant member of the foursome? We all wanted to survive as three, and not lose what we had, but how?

As it turned out, it was the best visit we could have had. They stayed for four days, during which we laughed and cried over and over. We remembered, and we all felt him with us. For me, it was one of only a very few times I have actually felt him with me, and it meant more to me than I can possibly describe. We had a perfect day on the boat, and while it was not the same as having him alive with us, he was there nonetheless. I felt so close to him because of being with them. Four days of being able to talk about him without feeling like my audience didn’t want to listen or was uncomfortable. Four days of being able to tell stories that others knew and could remember with me, as well as learn some new ones. Four days of hearing their stories and memories. And of hearing their fears and sadness and not feeling so alone in mine. Four days of Mark to cuddle or hug me as much as I wanted – physical contact I crave and need but could only comfortably get from Mark because he is the only person who feels comfortable and easy and right (thank you Nancy for being completely unthreatened by your husband holding me). Four days of healing and comfort.

Mark gave me a great gift while he was here. One of the things that is quite hard for me is figuring out sometimes what Kirk would think or say about the decisions and choices I am making in my life. There are times when I do things I think he would not agree with, and it makes me uncomfortable. It can be something as small as a charitable donation he wouldn’t agree with (he did not like United Way, because he thinks they are devious in how they communicate about what happens to donations, but I gave pretty generously this year – something I never would have done when he was alive). Or it can be much bigger life choices. I know logically that these are my choices now, but I have enormous respect for his thoughts and opinions, and still use them as a touchpoint because I want him to be proud of me, and because his ethics and morals were such that I pretty much can’t go wrong if I do what he would have done. Nonetheless sometimes I face choices where it is unclear to me how he would feel about my decisions. Would he disapprove when I stumble around and make potentially bad choices, or would he understand that it comes from my confusion and uncertainty, and that I am doing the best I can to make my way in this new and unwanted life? I’d love to think he would understand, but the truth about Kirk is that he could be pretty black and white about things, and was not always tolerant of the poor choices of others. Would that extend to me? But during Mark and Nancy’s visit, Mark was talking about the fact that he had been worrying about how to handle something difficult, and had asked himself what Kirk would say. And it came to him – and it was not a definitive answer at all. Instead, it was Kirk’s voice saying “You’ll figure it out.”

And he was right – Kirk did always say that. I had forgotten, but he did. So many times I would ask his thoughts or advice when I faced a decision, and he would talk through it with me and give me his opinion, but in the end, he always said “You’ll figure it out.” A vote of confidence in me, that I will find my way. He never told me what I should do – just gave me the opinion I sought and left it up to me, knowing I would come out okay in the end. Even if I stumbled a bit along the way. Mark did figure it out, and I know I will too. Thank God he reminded me of this – it has given me an ease I have not felt in a long time. Permission to screw up, to do it differently than Kirk would have, yet still feel he would support me and approve of me.

And the most amazing breakthrough of all – some true happiness. On the second day of the visit, we were driving on the expressway. It was a beautiful day – the sun was shining, the roof of the car open to the fresh air. We had music on the radio and had been talking of course about Kirk. I felt it all of a sudden, and actually didn’t know what it was – an unfamiliar sensation inside. Then it hit me – it was happiness. Real, honest happiness that I felt deep inside. A smile that finally reached my eyes instead of just my mouth. The first true happiness since losing Kirk. And I was okay about it. No guilt, no discomfort – I was happy to be happy. And during the next few days it happened several more times. I don’t know how long it would have taken me if they had not visited, and I wonder if I could have embraced the happiness, been okay with it, if it had happened with someone else.

So the first two months of my second year without Kirk have been pretty big. A lot of missing him still. No change in my desire to have him back, of fantasizing about him walking in the front door. But there are now some things that are not just sadness and confusion. A new appreciation for my own strength. A feeling of power and freedom to take risks. A little bit of recklessness. Some happiness at last, sometimes. Some peace. Some stumbling around, trying to make tough decisions. Living with both the decision making and its consequences alone. I like to think that he would be proud that I’m finally figuring it out.