"Resilience" is a recent read for me in the grief category. I wasn't going to read it. I wasn't interested in what they said it was about, the "chatter"--as Edwards puts it--about her husband's infidelity. But, there's very little about this at all. Even though some of the reviews quoted what few sentences Edwards included about the affair, and fashioned their articles (here & here) to seem like it was about her pain over the affair and details of the affair. The reviewers had it all wrong, I'm convinced they didn't read the book. But, rather wanted people to read their articles and get some hits on their pages. Yes, I know these links are helping their stats. It wasn't until I read average readers describe their reactions to the book on Amazon, that I decide to give it a try.
Edwards writes about loss, loss of her parents and her son wade, loss of the feeling of being able to "fix" things (after the cancer diagnosis) and, yes the loss of trust between her and her husband. She tells her stories, and the reader gets insights into her resilient nature.
One theme that seems to permeate is an understanding that a great source of the pain of loss, is the desire, wish, need for life to be as it was before the death or tragic event. "But we cannot, they cannot turn back. This is the life we have now, and the only way to find peace, the only way to be resilient when these landmines explode beneath your foundation, is first to accept that there is a new reality"(p. 30).
This resonated greatly with me. I wailed for Caitlin's death. When an episode waned and my reason would engage, I would peel away how I was feeling and try to get to the core of it. I concluded that the pain is there because I wanted things to be different. Duh, I know, but when "things" are the life of your child, it's no longer a simple truth.
Edwards makes this statement,"Grief is a long process of untangling ourselves from the physical reality of the person and from our expectations of our future with them" (p. 92).
Everything I do on this grief journey, talking, crying, staring, writing, blogging, scrapbooking, arranging pictures, releasing balloons, giving her gifts to the NICU, and getting her birth & death certificates, are all big and little steps to accepting a new reality. Not the one I wanted, or the one I should have, but the one that is.
Somedays I feel more tangled than others. Thanks for writing this Caitsmom, I wonder if this book can be found in my Library. I have ordered "living on the sea bed" by Lindsay Nicholson. Has anyone read that one?
ReplyDeleteThis is on my "to-read" list too. Did I tell you that early on in my grief, only a couple months after Liam died, I was in the store trying to shop. I was having a hard time, barely holding it together, then I noticed a man that looked much like John Edwards. Then I noticed a bunch of people wearing earpices as if listening to i-pods, but they seemed odd. Something was up. Then, as I pushed my buggie into the front of the store there were the Edwards waiting in line, talking to a bunch of people. I waited my turn, then mumbled something to Elizabeth about her book meaning alot to me. She gave me a hug and said something sweet. She is an amazing woman.
ReplyDeleteThis line really resonated with me: The only way to find peace, the only way to be resilient when these landmines explode beneath your foundation, is first to accept that there is a new reality.
ReplyDeleteBefore Henry died I struggled with this as I dealt with a non-ideal birth situation (he was taken away before I had held him and had barely seen him and I didn't get to him for two days). We learned he had Down syndrome and we started to figure out what that would mean for him and for us. We found out he needed surgery and would be home on oxygen. Then he got sick and ended up back in the hospital and we slowly started to untangle his diagnoses. During this time, I felt like every time I accepted the new normal the ground shifted under my feet. And then he died and the chasm opened and I fell in.
I think I have come to some acceptance of this new life, but the expectation is what catches me up still. The flashes that this is forever. The glimpses of what should be from other kids who are the age Henry would be.
Good post. I'll check out the book.
Both her books are in my gargantuan "to read" pile. I've read excerpts & seen her speak on TV about her son's death & the support she found in other bereaved parents. She seems like a very classy lady.
ReplyDeleteJulie, I must add the book to my list. Thanks for the recommendation. It's pretty clear, I've given up on "reviewers."
ReplyDeleteAmy, That is an awesome story. She seems like such a real person, and your story confirms it.
Sara, I know, I know. Your description is very similar to our experiences with Caitlin. Every doctor's visit, another diagnosis, another prognosis, another surgery, another adjustment. All of we believed would be fine--but then she died.
Loribeth, You and me both---got a gargantuan to-read pile!!!
Quoted from "Resilience" :
ReplyDelete"One theme that seems to permeate is an understanding that a great source of the pain of loss, is the desire, wish, need for life to be as it was before the death or tragic event. "But we cannot, they cannot turn back. This is the life we have now, and the only way to find peace, the only way to be resilient when these landmines explode beneath your foundation, is first to accept that there is a new reality"(p. 30). "
As a former well spouse, and President of the Well Spouse Association, http://wellspouse.org, I think I know what she's talking about, in a different context. A well spouse is a husband, wife or partner of someone who has a chronic illness and/or disability. Well spouses go through a good deal of "rolling grief" as they realize fresh losses for their partner, due to the illness. Resilience is a prized quality to have... an ability to roll with the punches and adapt to continuing changes and losses from the illness of a loved one (or death of a child -- in the case of Elizabeth Edwards) -- that inevitably produce changes in the relationship with your partner. We can't look back, and dare not look ahead too far -- it's best to live in the moment.