Dr. Sue and Me in Deadwood, SD

Just a few weeks after Mr. Virgo died, I took off in my first little camper…all by myself…for the adventure of a lifetime. There aren’t very many moments in time that you can just…leave. And that’s exactly what I did. I had no idea where I was going except a general direction and people I definitely wanted to spend a little time with. I didn’t have reservations ahead of time. I just flew by the seat of my pants and set out to heal my grief…one campfire at a time.

This was when I started writing this blog. I was so inspired by other women camping by themselves and in groups…pulling their cute little campers all on their own. I made fast friends of these gals and they all still mean the world to me. In the fall of 2013, the Sisters on the Fly were meeting for one of their large regional gatherings in Estes Park, Colorado…right in my backyard, so to speak. I couldn’t wait to join them and meet like minded women…and learn as much as I could from them.

One woman in particular really stood out to me. Dr. Sue Clifton came all the way from Mississippi hauling her little vintage tin can named “Spam I Am”. Sue brought the most divine Coconut Cake from Sugaree’s Bakery in Albany, Mississippi. Land’s sakes…I honestly thought I’d died and gone to Heaven. It was the BEST cake I think I’ve ever had.

Sugaree’s Bakery makes the BEST Coconut Cake on the planet!

Dr. Sue and I sat and talked the first evening at the “come and get to know your new friends” gathering. I asked her about herself. She had her PhD in Education and was a retired English teacher turned Principal. Her sweet hubby Woody was actually working in my home state at the time…putting in some sort of huge pieces of equipment in power plants, I think. They had a second home in Montana where they fly fished at every opportunity. 

When Dr. Sue asked about me, I told her the story about losing Mr. Virgo so soon after finding him. I told her about the day we were standing in a camper, picking out the one we wanted for retirement, when he had a sudden heart attack and was gone within two or three hours. You could hear the pain in my voice…see it in my eyes. As I told her my story, tears quietly slid down her cheeks and she hugged me close. We had an instant bond and even though we’ve only camped together a couple of times, we stay in touch regularly.

Eight months ago, Dr. Sue’s beloved cowboy…her Woody…died after a struggle with glioblastoma. Brain Cancer. She was incredibly brave. She took care of her sweetheart with a tender heart and a fierce faith. They had a good couple of years…much longer than the doctors told them they’d have. They communed and fell in love all over again and she walked him home. What greater gift can one give to another but a peaceful transition?

And now…here she is, still so fresh in her grief. She posted on Facebook yesterday, quoting an article on Complicated, Prolonged Grief. Bless her heart…at just eight months. I reached out and posted a response. I could have sent it privately, but as is my wont…every moment is a teaching moment. So I’ve decided to share my advice here as well. Because I know someone needs to hear this today and it’s been a while since we delved into grief. I won’t share her post, but here is my comment:

“Sweetheart, I’m going to jump in here and sit with you a minute, ok? I haven’t read any of the other responses…I never do that. Because, if it’s what I was going to say, I feel stupid saying the same dang thing ten other folks already said. And, if it’s the OTHERS saying something that can come across as hurtful or unhelpful, I don’t want to get ticked off, capisce? 

First, please be gentle with your sweet and battered self. It feels to me you are trying to find a timeline with which to compare your “progress” on this grief journey. Please don’t do that. I did it, we probably all did it, but it isn’t helpful because, in the end, grief is just…grief. One cannot compare one’s grief to another’s. It’s as individual as a fingerprint. And…pay close attention to this one…YOUR grief is the WORST grief in the world because it’s YOURS. This is a really hard and shitty thing to go through. 

I understand you wanting to protect others from your pain. I tried that, too. I made it to month nine when I cried uncle and went to see a grief counselor. I was suffering PTSD from watching the unsuccessful CPR. My guess is, you are suffering the same thing from being a primary caregiver and watching your most beloved person die. How could you NOT have PTSD? 

Here is my suggestion…find a therapist who is trained in EMDR…Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing. It is THE treatment for PTSD and it honestly saved me from skidding off the ledge. Eat well, rest, drink plenty of water, avoid drugs and alcohol, and get out for a walk every day. Say no unapologetically if you need to. Do one thing every day that scares you or makes you feel uncomfortable. Desensitization will take you far on this path. Write down the names and numbers of people who say…call me anytime. They are worth their weight in gold. CALL THEM when you are hurting. If they are any kind of true friend, they will do what my friend Deb did and listen to my wails, throwing in the occasional commiseration like, “I know, sweetheart…I know.”  

You fly fish. Have you ever tried to stand in the middle of a roaring river, facing upstream, and try to hold it back with your hands? It doesn’t work, does it? It’s the same way with grief. Turn around and look downstream. That’s the direction you’re heading anyway. Lean back into the water like you’re sitting in a lounge chair with your feet in front of you and see where the water takes you. I guarantee you there are going to be rapids ahead that are going to threaten to drown you. But, look at you! You have survived through 100% of the really hard days you have gone through so far. 

I know it is so hard to believe this, but there are calmer waters up ahead. Just keep going. And remember…there is only one way to get through grief….and, that’s to grieve. Don’t put a label on it. Six months? I call BS, Pauline. Whoever wrote that article you read hasn’t tied your shoes…so they don’t get to tell you how to wear them, lovie. My heart is with you. ?”

Grief is so hard and it gets harder before it eases up. You never “get over it” but you can “get through it”. It takes a lot of tears and strength and courage and…for me…faith in a God far bigger than me that could carry me though it all. I promised God if he would bring me the words, and the people to read them, I would continue to tell people where I find my strength. 

I could never have done this without Jesus to walk with me and hold my heart in His hands.

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“Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and do not lean on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make straight your paths.”

Proverbs 3:5-6 ESV