So has it already been more than 3 months since we said goodbye to Bernice? Seems at once like yesterday and also an eternity ago. I have buried myself in busyness to try and keep out those creeping feelings of sadness, but try as I might, they still find their way in. I am blessed with an incredible husband who not only lets me (and encourages me to) hash out how I'm feeling in that messy "stream of consciousness" sort of conversation style, but also allows himself to be vulnerable and hash out how he's feeling with me too. It's a catharsis neither of us could live without. I thought coming back out here to Baltimore, away from the places and people that Bernice and I shared...away from the house where she spent her final days, would help. I thought not having to walk into that studio where she and I spent countless hours together only to feel that physical sting of the realization of her absence would mean less of that palpable grief. I was oh so wrong! I have found in these weeks that I've been back in Baltimore that her absence is even more heavy. I have picked up the phone to call her or text her or send her pictures more times than I can count. Nearly daily as a matter of fact. And as the stress and anxiety rises around our house with all things board exam, residency, med school, counseling practicum, money, travel, etc., I find myself longing for my friend. For my Bernice. Her sweet spirit and calming nature could always talk me off my ledge. When I felt overwhelmed, I could call her and she would artfully smooth my rigidity while simultaneously redirecting my attention. She could always put things in perspective. She would remind me that I'm loved and important and talented and smart. I'm not sure she was even aware that she could do those things...it was a subconscious super power of hers. But then again, maybe she knew exactly what she was doing all along...
For the past 4 1/2 years, our lives have followed a pattern. For every big, amazing moment in this journey, we have experienced an equally profound loss, disappointment, or painful blow to our morale right before. I won't list them all out, but suffice to say that it has become such a predictable pattern, that we almost anticipate those sucker punches before they happen. As a matter of fact, when Jonathan's Granddaddy passed away not even a month before we lost Bernice I said, "You know, as we get closer and closer to graduation and residency, we should probably be aware that there's a big probability that things will get much worse before they get better." Weeks later we lost Bernice. Weeks after that my friend Rachel lost her mom to pancreatic cancer and I found myself back in OKC wading through another tragic loss and trying desperately to hold my friend up in her loss as she had held me up in mine. Dear Lord in Heaven I pray that is the last of it for now! But I'm not naive enough to think there won't be more. If I let my mind wander off into the possibilities of what could plague us next...it's a bit of a rabbit hole. And not one I enjoy going down...
Now maybe this all seems doom and gloom. Maybe you're thinking, "Rachel, sounds like you're depressed. Sounds like you need some grief counseling." And maybe I am...I probably do. But I want to communicate that our anticipation of the BLESSINGS is just as heady as our anticipation of the bad things. Probably more so. I refuse to let the things that are depressing suck the joy out of the things that are AMAZING! It's not fair that we should get this far in this whole thing and hit the finish line with our heads hanging in defeat. And how mad Bernice would be if she thought her passing was the reason we didn't finish this race with confidence, joy, and pride! How I wish I could share with her all of our plans. How I wish I could call her and stumble through a conversation about the places we could find ourselves next summer. How I wish she and I were still making plans for her and Charlie to come out in October to celebrate Jonathan's last day as a medical student and his first day as Dr. Womack! But I won't let that sadness and that disappointment squelch the profound joy and pride that both of us deserve to experience in all of this. She wouldn't want that. And I sure don't want to disappoint her...
In the 67 days since she left us, I have made a point to allow myself to feel what I feel. I have made a point to recognize when I'm feeling depressed or angry or guilty or lonely or irritable...to let those feelings slowly burn until I can put them aside...to keep from burying them only to have them well up in me again later. I have tried to recognize that some of my odd reactions to things are just a product of my grief. I've given myself grace. Given Jonathan grace. Tried (not always successfully) to give others grace in their own grief. Everyone walks this road in a different way and at different paces. Finding the new normal in this time in our lives where NOTHING is normal is tough. I have to navigate how I feel and find a way to manage those feelings in a healthy way. I have to find someone else to call or text at those times when Bernice would be my number one gal. I have to figure out how to function in a world she no longer exists in. It's a process...an arduous one, but I'm piecing together my functionality day by day...
In 86 days, Jonathan will be Dr. Womack. All the board exams will be done, all the applications will be in, everything we've worked for as a couple for 6 1/2 long years of our lives will be seen through to fruition. It won't matter what crappy things have been hurled our way over those 6 1/2 years...we will be Dr. and Mrs. Jonathan Womack on October 28, 2016 and we couldn't be more excited. So excuse us while we grapple for that joy that is ours for the taking. While we gather all the happiness that we can amidst our grief. While we put blinders on to block out the things that have the potential to diminish even a small part of that blissful feeling of success that we both so thoroughly deserve after all of this. It's been a team effort. And Jonathan and I both deserve to revel in the completion of our goals. We've done it! Hell AND high water have come, but in 86 days we will prove that we've been unshakeable in our perseverance. I will not let my grief speak louder than my joy...
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