Tears...

"There is a sacredness in tears. They are not the mark of weakness, but of power. They speak more eloquently than ten thousand tongues. They are messengers of overwhelming grief…and unspeakable love." – Washington Irving

This morning the tears come as I’m getting ready for work. I was a little surprised by them because I hardly ever cry in the morning anymore. I realized I was having flashbacks of the night Andie died and reliving those awful moments at the hospital after he had been pronounced dead. I remember going outside to get some air and thinking, “My husband is dead. I have to call people. How is this real? My husband. Is dead.” I remember wanting to go back inside and demand that the doctors do some miraculous procedure that would save him. Cut him open and massage his heart by hand if they had to, anything that would offer one last chance at life. Then I remember having the thought that this sort of thing only happens on TV…rarely in real life.

I had worked through the flashbacks. Allowing myself to relive them in an effort to desensitize myself and process them. The only way to heal through them according to my grief counselor. I had gotten to the point where I could think about that night and not break down. But, after going through another traumatic event with Allie, seeing her become unresponsive and her lips turn blue, the flashbacks are back. My counselor warned me this would happen earlier this week when I saw her. “Be prepared,” she had said. Traumatic memories are the strongest kind. They trigger other traumatic memories because they activate the same part of the brain, bypassing all the normal routes of memory consolidation. It’s like a switch is flipped and there is nothing you can do about it. Except…live it again and again until it doesn’t hurt so badly.

I also realize this morning that I have not had any dreams about Andie in a while. Nor have I felt his presence with me as I so often did in the early days. It leaves me feeling abandoned and angry. Again…just as I did on the night he died. Perhaps, this is why I have been clinging desperately to any sort of connection with others lately. It’s irrational to feel abandoned; I know he would have never chosen to leave us. I cry about this too, this morning. Feeling so alone…and irrational.

Trying to appreciate the power of my tears…
To understand that while they are messengers of overwhelming grief, so too, do they represent unspeakable love…