I have not gone back through posts – ever. But I remember some…
I remember writing about The Whoosh. As I held George while we disconnected him from artificial life support…and when he took his last breath…I felt an incredible rush of energy. I think Ed said what I felt was the true life force – the power of love…
In that exact moment I promised George to honor his life. I also promised him that I would do something with his trauma and shame…it’s hard for me to put into words exactly what I meant to promise…though I know exactly what I felt…I still feel…but it is time to let it go…
What I realized this week was that what I had actually promised was to hold George’s trauma and pain for him. I had held him through flashbacks and nightmares – literally and figuratively. And in his moment of what some people call transition – I took on his love and light – and I also took on his pain. I can explain why – but not now…
And I’ve been holding – gripping – his pain for close to two years – alongside my own of course. With our shared pain came anxiety like I had never experienced before. I would say out loud – “I get it George”. I have more compassion for what you carried – what you bore – what you battled. I think that I now probably get it well enough…but it never seemed to be enough…
It was never my intention to literally feel his pain. But I did not – could not – let it go. I didn’t think about the literal promise – I just made it and have lived it…
And the anxiety has continued even as I have viscerally and visibly healed. And as I have healed and the anxiety has prevailed I have been having distinct panic attacks – focused around separation in new relationships…Panic attacks are getting in my way…
George could not be alone…he hated it when I left him…I took this on…oh my goodness…I took this on…
I believed my panic was fueled by the experience of leaving George in the ER to go home to walk the dog – he was sitting up talking and texting…When I returned maybe an hour later he was being intubated and that was it. There’s my trauma. That’s how I have made sense of the panic. Still I could not get it to abate…
But what I hadn’t consciously recognized – until a few days ago – was that I inhaled George’s trauma – what I knew intimately, what I knew vaguely…and I’ve been holding it for him in a vice grip – like I held George when he was having a bad night.
I have been feeling George’s trauma. His angst. His pain. His unbearable anxiety.
I vowed to honor George. I have done that. I will continue to do that. But it is time to let go of George’s pain – it is not serving me. And it is no longer burdening him – I know that for sure…
I promise I will always honor your life…