Dark places of painful memories

I recently tweeted...

"Avoiding pain, even the memory of it... also means avoiding seeing the strength and faith that got one through the pain."

One of the hardest nights of my life was February 24, 2000. I was getting ready for an evening class and received an e-mail from my brother. Our mother in Green Bay, WI was hospitalized with a stroke. He lived in Madison, WI and I lived in Milwaukee, WI. Our sister lived in Texas.

So, I called his mobile phone. He was driving to Green Bay and asked me to call the hospital. Which I did. Somehow I ended up on the phone with one of my aunts. She told me my mother had a couple of massive strokes and was brian dead.

Then I had to do the hardest thing I'd ever had to do in my 34 years of life at that point.

I don't remember who was first, but I called my brother and sister and told them what my aunt told me. I remember my sister cried. That was really hard to listen to. I remember thinking... my brother's driving... if I tell him to pull over he's going to know. So I didn't tell him to pull over. Since I didn't have a car, he told me he'd turn around and come to Milwaukee and pick me up.

After that, it was a blur. I know I sent a couple of e-mails to tell people I was not going to be in class. I am fairly certain I called my father (my parents were divorced). And a couple of friends. The drive up to Green Bay was also a blur. I think we got to the hospital around 9 or 10. Maybe later.

I remember much of the hospital. But I won't write about it. It was hard. Very hard. The planning of the funeral and burial, the endless calls (or so it seemed to be endless), the service itself, the days after... all really hard to go through.

I used to look at those times, and think... I just was on automatic. I did things one at a time. I'd ask myself "What's necessary next?". I was in shock. I was overwhelmed. All true then, and still true.

AND... Somehow I kept going. Something kept me going from during that painful time. Something inside me gave me what I needed to make those difficult phone calls to my brother and sister. And later to help me deal with funerals, out-of-the-blue grieving visitors, estate stuff, the sense of loss of something solid in my life, and all that stuff that has to be dealt with after death... that there is little preparation for in this society.

I've always been aware of an inner strength I possess. And looking at that night, February 24, 2000... I see evidence of it so clearly.

So, reader, I hope you will see the value of looking at your pain. By doing so, you have great chance to also see your strength.