Ocean Phase

I don’t believe grief is experienced in a predetermined set of stages like a lot of people write about.  But I found that I have lived through many phases of grief.  This is my first post about a phase I lived through.

My feet were stuck in the sand.  Buried over my ankles.  I could barely wiggle my toes.  The ocean ebbed and flowed from below my knees to above my waist.  Most of the time was spent underwater in a fetal position.  Grasping for breath.  Eyes stung from the saltwater tears.  The ocean floor slicing my skin and the wounds burned from the cold salt water. Then briefly, the tides would shift and I stood up and saw the most beautiful view of the sun setting over the ocean.  The pure white sands unfolding endlessly in both directions.  Life could be beautiful and I saw it and I appreciated it.  Slam, I was knocked down again with my head beating against the ocean floor gasping for breath with the sting of tears flooding my eyes.  Then I stood again soaking in the beauty of the ocean.

This was my first phase of grieving. This is what I felt the hours, days, and weeks after coming home from the hospital after Finn’s death.  I had no control.  I was scared and hurting deeply.  But, I also could see and feel extreme beauty.  The memories of my beautiful son were fresh.  I could still see his smile and feel him resting in my arms.  Finn’s light shined as brightly as ever.

This phase was defined by the extreme contrast between the beauty of fresh memory and the pain of a parents worst nightmare.  Extreme pain but also profound beauty.

It is interesting in looking back, my senses were fully engaged.  I’m not sure how much my brain was engaged.  I’m not sure my brain could have handled the full implication of the loss.  This was a time of feeling and not thinking.

During this time, I was also wrapped in the arms of community and family.  I later came to realize that there is a lot of numbness during this period.  Numbness from both my brain being shut off but also from the care of family and community.

I felt so much during these few weeks after Finn died.  I so wish I would have written or somehow captured these memories and feelings.  I wish I would have spent more time feeling what is was like to know and then lose such an amazing son as Finn.  I call this my Ocean Phase.