(Disclaimer: My thoughts are scattered these days. Trying to put together a coherent narrative is hard. Please be kind with any criticism of my rambling. These are my thoughts and feelings as I’m experiencing them in real-time.)
I feel like I’m caught in a rip current of sadness and grief. It’s a funny thing, grief. It’s like an insidious wave of water just waiting to pull me from safety and stability. Lately, everything has become a trigger. EVERYTHING. Songs, leftovers in the fridge, memories, pictures, driving, soccer games, groceries…like I said, everything.
We spent last weekend driving to and from upstate NY to return Momma-Koog home after watching the boys for us the prior weekend. I drove E-Koog, Mrs. Koog and Momma-Koog last Friday night. B-Koog, the newly minted Leader of his Scout Patrol, was at a Camporee last weekend.
Anyway, we picked up E-Koog from school at lunchtime and got on the road for the 7 hour ride to the 518. About 25 miles into the drive, I began to silently (and uncontrollably) weep. Lucky for me, my mom and E were in the back and had no line of sight to me. Mrs. Koog was sleeping in the front seat so she was blissfully unaware. Or at least she was for a little while.
Somewhere around Gettysburg she woke up and somewhere around Harrisburg she noticed. I literally could not speak to her without falling apart. So, I remained silent with my eyes fixed on the road in front of me with tears dripping off my face. She kept asking me what was wrong. I could not speak the words, or any words for that matter without some primal scream escaping through my mouth-hole.
What was wrong…Here’s what was wrong…
I am incapacitated by my fear of losing her and I’m so afraid to speak those words (for some reason it’s ok to write it down…) into the universe because I don’t want to tempt the Gods, fate, Mother Nature, karma or whatever into making this fear a reality. Yes, I intellectually know uttering words, any words into the universe does not make things happen. If it did, I’d be rich, 6’5” and President of the World as I’ve uttered all those things a number of times since I was a child.
What is the specific fear exactly? That’s easy, I’m afraid of loss, yet intellectually I know she is likely to be fine once the cancer is out. How do I break down what this loss really means so I can stop this swirl? Ever since we got the call back in early July, I had a bad feeling this situation was not like the past “we need to do a further exam following the mammogram” situation. Intuition? Paranoia? Probably a little of both, but either way it was a tiny lingering thought that has never left. Maybe I don’t want anyone to concur or acknowledge my fears have merit. I hear “she will be fine” from our family (blood and chosen) never “she won’t be fine.” What if they said, “yup, we have a bad feeling,” instead? How would I handle that? Knowing me, probably not well.
Losing her is obviously a large component of this my fear, but it’s not all of it. As I write this entry, my bigger concern is becoming clearer to me…
As most of you know, I blogged daily during our trip, and they were not short pieces of work. For some reason my brain went into permanent marker mode and I was able to vividly describe/articulate the high (and low, thanks COVID) points of every day. Even now as I read through the narration of the days, it’s like a movie playing in my head. Sights, sounds, smells and smiles all there to remind us how much we enjoyed being together for those 30 days. I’m so thankful, as are the kids and Mrs. Koog, to have not just photos but also words that captured the daily nuances of travel.
What I didn’t document was everyday before July 23, 2023. All the events, emotions and experiences. Every one of them was taken for granted. And now, we are on this path with no ability to turn around or veer off, it seems like nothing will be normal anymore. We’ve lived this charmed existence as a family. Our life has been void of real problems, for the most part. How lucky to be able to say that, right? We are blessed or charmed or whatever synonym you’d choose to describe a reality where we have everything we need and nearly everything we want.
Even now, while in the midst of this shit sandwich, we are lucky. How? We have the gift of access to the best healthcare, financial security, food and shelter, and the support of equally privileged family and friends. In short we have the influence to positively impact the outcome of Mrs. Koog’s diagnosis. So, this is clearly not a “poor us” situation. I am very clear about how fortunate we are compared to many, if not most, Americans.
What fills me with shame and regret is I didn’t take the time to reflect and appreciate all we had before this situation. I took it all for granted. I didn’t write it all down. I didn’t appreciate it because I assume it was a situation that would always be. I assumed our charmed life was a given and it didn’t warrant that permanent marker core memory maker like, say, a 30 dream trip to the UK.
This is a watershed moment for me and our family. We cannot take our abundant milk and honey life for granted anymore. I will write it all down. Certainly not publish it all, but I will write it to save as a sort of core memory for our family. Remembering this darkness will make us appreciate the fun, adventures, regular days and, most importantly, each other differently as the darkness fades and the light returns. We have so much both tangible, and more importantly, intangible gifts in our life to be thankful for and to celebrate. I have to do better about being grateful and celebrating the ordinary and finding the little things everyday.
But first, I need to feel this fear and experience this grief because regardless of our abundance, my wife has cancer. She’s about to embark on a significant set of surgeries. She will feel pain, both physical and emotional as she moves down this path. And no matter how many blessings we have, she will still feel this pain. She will still have down days. She will still have cuts, stitches, drains and discomfort. And it will still hurt to see her suffering. Because I love her and having her as my wife will always be my biggest blessing.
I feel like I’m caught in a rip current of sadness and grief. It’s a funny thing, grief. It’s like an insidious wave of water just waiting to pull me from safety and stability. Lately, everything has become a trigger. EVERYTHING. Songs, leftovers in the fridge, memories, pictures, driving, soccer games, groceries…like I said, everything.
We spent last weekend driving to and from upstate NY to return Momma-Koog home after watching the boys for us the prior weekend. I drove E-Koog, Mrs. Koog and Momma-Koog last Friday night. B-Koog, the newly minted Leader of his Scout Patrol, was at a Camporee last weekend.
Anyway, we picked up E-Koog from school at lunchtime and got on the road for the 7 hour ride to the 518. About 25 miles into the drive, I began to silently (and uncontrollably) weep. Lucky for me, my mom and E were in the back and had no line of sight to me. Mrs. Koog was sleeping in the front seat so she was blissfully unaware. Or at least she was for a little while.
Somewhere around Gettysburg she woke up and somewhere around Harrisburg she noticed. I literally could not speak to her without falling apart. So, I remained silent with my eyes fixed on the road in front of me with tears dripping off my face. She kept asking me what was wrong. I could not speak the words, or any words for that matter without some primal scream escaping through my mouth-hole.
What was wrong…Here’s what was wrong…
I am incapacitated by my fear of losing her and I’m so afraid to speak those words (for some reason it’s ok to write it down…) into the universe because I don’t want to tempt the Gods, fate, Mother Nature, karma or whatever into making this fear a reality. Yes, I intellectually know uttering words, any words into the universe does not make things happen. If it did, I’d be rich, 6’5” and President of the World as I’ve uttered all those things a number of times since I was a child.
What is the specific fear exactly? That’s easy, I’m afraid of loss, yet intellectually I know she is likely to be fine once the cancer is out. How do I break down what this loss really means so I can stop this swirl? Ever since we got the call back in early July, I had a bad feeling this situation was not like the past “we need to do a further exam following the mammogram” situation. Intuition? Paranoia? Probably a little of both, but either way it was a tiny lingering thought that has never left. Maybe I don’t want anyone to concur or acknowledge my fears have merit. I hear “she will be fine” from our family (blood and chosen) never “she won’t be fine.” What if they said, “yup, we have a bad feeling,” instead? How would I handle that? Knowing me, probably not well.
Losing her is obviously a large component of this my fear, but it’s not all of it. As I write this entry, my bigger concern is becoming clearer to me…
As most of you know, I blogged daily during our trip, and they were not short pieces of work. For some reason my brain went into permanent marker mode and I was able to vividly describe/articulate the high (and low, thanks COVID) points of every day. Even now as I read through the narration of the days, it’s like a movie playing in my head. Sights, sounds, smells and smiles all there to remind us how much we enjoyed being together for those 30 days. I’m so thankful, as are the kids and Mrs. Koog, to have not just photos but also words that captured the daily nuances of travel.
What I didn’t document was everyday before July 23, 2023. All the events, emotions and experiences. Every one of them was taken for granted. And now, we are on this path with no ability to turn around or veer off, it seems like nothing will be normal anymore. We’ve lived this charmed existence as a family. Our life has been void of real problems, for the most part. How lucky to be able to say that, right? We are blessed or charmed or whatever synonym you’d choose to describe a reality where we have everything we need and nearly everything we want.
Even now, while in the midst of this shit sandwich, we are lucky. How? We have the gift of access to the best healthcare, financial security, food and shelter, and the support of equally privileged family and friends. In short we have the influence to positively impact the outcome of Mrs. Koog’s diagnosis. So, this is clearly not a “poor us” situation. I am very clear about how fortunate we are compared to many, if not most, Americans.
What fills me with shame and regret is I didn’t take the time to reflect and appreciate all we had before this situation. I took it all for granted. I didn’t write it all down. I didn’t appreciate it because I assume it was a situation that would always be. I assumed our charmed life was a given and it didn’t warrant that permanent marker core memory maker like, say, a 30 dream trip to the UK.
This is a watershed moment for me and our family. We cannot take our abundant milk and honey life for granted anymore. I will write it all down. Certainly not publish it all, but I will write it to save as a sort of core memory for our family. Remembering this darkness will make us appreciate the fun, adventures, regular days and, most importantly, each other differently as the darkness fades and the light returns. We have so much both tangible, and more importantly, intangible gifts in our life to be thankful for and to celebrate. I have to do better about being grateful and celebrating the ordinary and finding the little things everyday.
But first, I need to feel this fear and experience this grief because regardless of our abundance, my wife has cancer. She’s about to embark on a significant set of surgeries. She will feel pain, both physical and emotional as she moves down this path. And no matter how many blessings we have, she will still feel this pain. She will still have down days. She will still have cuts, stitches, drains and discomfort. And it will still hurt to see her suffering. Because I love her and having her as my wife will always be my biggest blessing.
Am here to listen, "feel the ups and downs" in this journey with you (all). Tears & hugs-Miriam
ReplyDeleteThinking of you all during this journey. Take things a day at a time and keep fighting with strength and love. You have both. Love, Kim
ReplyDeleteLove you all. If you ever wanna talk I am always here! Praying everything goes well with her surgeries. 🙏🏻🙏🏻
ReplyDeleteOh my heart…. as a Mom just want to fix everything for you sweetie! I do want you to know we are praying for both Megan, her medical team and you! We are holding you in our hearts and prayers! We are just around the corner to help with the boys! To sit with you Michelle…fill your refrigerator etc.
ReplyDeleteGod is good and I’m praying for healing as you begin this part of the journey!
Love you both! ❤️