Taking a break from grief, everyone should have a box of crayons…

One of the strategies that was highlighted during the webinar on grief was “taking a break from your grief”, it was not the first time I heard  that concept, but it still brought me up short. I don’t believe I was the only one as it generated questions on how?…how do you “take a break from grief,”  how do you peel that clammy, wet wool sweater off your body that envelops you in its chilling, ever present weight?

I spent  time reflecting on what the presenter said..”you have to find what works for you, you have to try different things.”  Maybe it is a trip, change up your surroundings, but build in a time and space away from your grief.  At first you can’t process this new challenge, it is too foreign and besides isn’t that like denial?…and wouldn’t that be a betrayal to our child to take a “break.”

I mentally took a step back and thought of Doug and I, where are our windows of relief, what seems to be a small oasis in our life?  We as a rule don’t watch a lot of TV and can’t keep up with trivia and shows, but we have discovered a show that is not new at all, only new to us and it has intrigued us, we find it well written, well acted…you could watch it in mixed company and not be embarrassed, just a clever piece of work.  We don’t watch everyday, we don’t watch for hours on end, but we do find for that hour or so, we take a “break”….crazy I know.  But it was an aha moment, it helped me to understand the need to have something which lifted you out of that wet, wool sweater.

I found this week that our house is almost booby trapped with memories that can derail your entire day, some tasks can wait, some cannot. I was putting away linens in the cedar chest and there were a couple of Justin’s sweaters that I had kept, your hands smooth the soft cotton remembering him in those sweaters, he always looked so handsome. You forget what you were doing and you pick up the sweaters hoping for one last breath of his scent and cry because its gone, you breathe deeper hoping for that familiar scent and there is nothing.  You physically ache to hold your child, not just his sweater. You have to make a conscious decision to close the lid quickly, otherwise you are tempted to look at other memories that are in that chest. His graduation gown, First Communion banner, you were only going to put blankets away.

So taking a break is vital, there has to be a moment when you can catch your breath.  I was speaking with a very dear  friend of ours and we discovered our mutual love of coloring.  I have quite the collection of Crayola crayons and would happily sit and color…not having to speak…not needing any background sounds…just coloring. I am an outliner…you know, I like to outline in the color I picked and then fill in the space. We are going to plan a coloring date, we both could use the break.

But that got me thinking, once I discovered our “coloring book”, the show that Doug and I both enjoy, I could see other people and their “coloring books” in a new light, a kinship of sorts.  We don’t have to have the same coloring books and crayons to understand and appreciate the importance of that space in another person’s life. Ryan is gifted with being able to take cars apart and put them back together. I said to him on Friday that his cars are sorta like my coloring, he said “yeah, just without all the swearing and grease.” He is so funny and he always makes me laugh and smile. We each need time to color though.  Ryan’s fuel tank and other car parts are no different than my deluxe box of Crayola crayons with 16 holiday colors, well, except I can fit mine in a small drawer and rarely need to wear coveralls.

And it is not that we do not think about Justin during these breaks…he is never not on our minds, the longing for him is never not there….but it is a brief respite, a little window.

Justin coloring with his Uncle Joel