Chapter 25, PART 1

Immediately after the death, you might not feel like leaving your bed as a result of your depression. I do not mean taking a nap. I mean ever getting up again. This could go on for a while, and even if you do make it back to work, when you come home your energy is seriously depleted. I used to enjoy cooking before my son’s death; immediately afterward it became an almost insurmountable task for me. Anything that required planning and foresight and trips to the grocery store seemed not worth the effort.

Chapter 25, PART 2

My occupation as a college professor forces me to put forth quite an expenditure of energy in terms of teaching, planning and working with students in Student Government, and college committees. I do not know if my Provost has any idea how many times I have wanted to scream “No” and walk away from it all. After all, what importance does a Student Welcome Day serve in the overall scheme of anyone’s life? The value of the students learning to manage events mollifies my feeling of lassitude and my “what difference does it make” attitude, but I still struggle for energy. This feeling of futility adds to the tiredness. If I cannot see a use for something, I certainly cannot approach it with wings of enthusiasm carrying me forward.

Chapter 25, PART 3

Two years later I still have tiredness, which others attribute to my schedule, but I know in my heart that if something does not have some sort of relevance or takes my mind away from everyday life, I lose interest in it quickly. For example, housework, never very high on my list of favorite activities, plummeted to the bottom of my to-do list after Logan’s death. It only achieves importance before guests come, and even then, only enough for sanitation.

Chapter 25, part 4

The thought of the most trivial of tasks seems a huge undertaking. Getting the car’s oil changed, albeit necessary, quite literally does not get done until it achieves a critical point. I, myself, do not have to physically change the oil. I drive to a place and wait for twenty minutes, reading or grading papers. I am sitting the whole time, yet it still seems arduous. Mowing the lawn occurs less frequently than before, and I have a riding lawn mower, making it one of the few tasks I enjoy. I totally quit trimming hedges and weeding, but we live in a rural neighborhood where many people have their yards growing naturally, and I prefer this, so I get away with my lack of yard maintenance. If I lived in a suburban neighborhood, our house would be the scourge of the street.

Chapter 25, part 5

Volunteering at my younger son’s school for twenty hours a year is part of the condition of each parent. My husband has primarily taken over this task. I do not remember in high school my parents being required a certain number of hours at the school, and perhaps this requirement is a good idea, but for me, it’s more pressure added to a pressure-cooker of a life ready to explode due to the death of a child.

Chapter 25, part 6

Ironically, though, these very minimal tasks keep one going on, even if we do not think that they serve a grander purpose in life. By getting the oil changed or mowing the lawn, I am momentarily focusing on something other than depression, and something which, although not creative or purpose-filled, needs to be done, thus achieving relevance. Even though we have to force ourselves to do it, I believe it necessary to keep our sanity. It’s quite easy for counselors and others to say, “Keep moving,” or “become active,” but anyone who has ever encountered depression does not realize that this seems impossible when emotions sit on your chest and weigh about a thousand pounds. You cannot move, but if you can motivate yourself to do one small, necessary chore, you might find that it will become easier to perform the next one.

Chapter 25, part 7

I imagine most people think I have handled Logan’s death with strength because I have accomplished a lot professionally in the two and a half years since he died. They do not see the emotions I keep away from them. The neighbors do not know that on some days when they see me early in the morning walking my dog that the wound feels as though it has reopened and my soul bleeds again and tears stream down my face. My co-workers do not realize that I want to hide from the world at times and not go to work, but once again, fortunately, I have a job that requires my presence to keep the flow of the classroom consistent. Without this, I am not sure how well I would have fared. I cannot imagine being a housewife and facing a home empty of the beloved child, but the small tasks keep us going.

Do what you can do and do not berate yourself for that which you cannot do. Set for yourself these small tasks, if necessary, and do what you can to keep moving and busy. Your emotions won’t let you ignore the grieving, so you will not be stifling anything, but you might give yourself a little peace, even for a few minutes as you gradually head down the road back into life, albeit a changed life. Life will become bearable and even enjoyable, but at first this seems like a lie.

Chapter 25, part 8

ACTIVITY

Find one small chore to do, nothing large. Do it. Even in grief we can stand to do something for ten or twenty minutes. Make a list of three small chores for the week and every other day, finish a chore. It could be driving to the store for bread, polishing shoes, or paying a bill. Just make sure that what you choose is easily doable.