They say that Grief occurs in five stages.
And even though I've read about it, studied it, even taken an exam on it, I don't remember what the stages are, and I definitely don't remember in what order the stages come in.
Theory does s*** for you when you're in the midst of the storm.
No one- NO ONE- stops to cognitively assess which stage of the grieving process they are in when they are lost in the mire of the emotional turmoil.
I only knew that I was crying, day after day, hour after hour, because someone had suddenly been taken away from me, and given that neither of us had been prepared, there was no readiness whatsoever- not in the physical, mental or emotional.
There had been no expectation that when in the morning we left the officetel together, in the evening, I would come back to the same place alone. There had been no expectation that it would take me almost a week of so much uncertainty and even more heartache before the dude would come back. And to make things worse, because it had not been expected at all, no preparations had been made for the sudden departure.
It's hard to explain, given that it is a co-worker and close friend, but the sudden loss and the terror made me feel like the dude wasn't going to come back again and it felt like he had just disappeared- forever.
I walked through the officetel, taking note of the small little things that usually slipped my eye. There was the wire left carelessly strewn across the coffee table where he had worked the night before, there was the large tea mug left by the main network computer which the staff had bought as a present for him when he joined- the green tea bag still sitting inside. there were the gym clothes at his area, there was the glaring absence of shoes outside the officetel door, and even in the pantry, there was the loaf of Sunshine bread bought over the weekend.
But the dude wasn't here.
And that was the hardest part- seeing the smallest things- and feeling the glaring absence, the sense of abandonment.
It surprises me even now, but I can say that for the entire period of time, I was a wreck- a genuine wreck- what with trying to cope with the shock of emotional loss, the necessity for work continuity. trying to resolve issues which had hitherto not (quite) been my portfolio, and which I had not been handed the resources to handle.
It was a s***a** situation.
I liken it to that of a wife whose husband has suddenly passed on, saddling her with the debts and problems of his company, a family to take care of, personal financial issues, and with no resources to lean on simply because she had been too dependent on him.
And yet, I still had to keep up the smile.
Because whilst I wanted to wallow in misery (which I did) and just let it all go, it didn't seem right to what it was we were doing, it didn't seem right to our clients past, present and future and it didn't seem right to let the whole thing go to rubble because of my emotional state. After all, the dude hadn't passed on, he was coming back after being on "urgent outstation", there was work he had to do... and so I coped.. as well as I could.
Slice by slice the bread got eaten, the cup was left where it was, and in the silence of the night, when all the rest had left, I allowed myself to grieve and worry and wail and scream. Or, I sat on the floor and tried to get lost in the little blue lights twinkling on the Christmas tree.
And even though I've read about it, studied it, even taken an exam on it, I don't remember what the stages are, and I definitely don't remember in what order the stages come in.
Theory does s*** for you when you're in the midst of the storm.
No one- NO ONE- stops to cognitively assess which stage of the grieving process they are in when they are lost in the mire of the emotional turmoil.
I only knew that I was crying, day after day, hour after hour, because someone had suddenly been taken away from me, and given that neither of us had been prepared, there was no readiness whatsoever- not in the physical, mental or emotional.
There had been no expectation that when in the morning we left the officetel together, in the evening, I would come back to the same place alone. There had been no expectation that it would take me almost a week of so much uncertainty and even more heartache before the dude would come back. And to make things worse, because it had not been expected at all, no preparations had been made for the sudden departure.
It's hard to explain, given that it is a co-worker and close friend, but the sudden loss and the terror made me feel like the dude wasn't going to come back again and it felt like he had just disappeared- forever.
I walked through the officetel, taking note of the small little things that usually slipped my eye. There was the wire left carelessly strewn across the coffee table where he had worked the night before, there was the large tea mug left by the main network computer which the staff had bought as a present for him when he joined- the green tea bag still sitting inside. there were the gym clothes at his area, there was the glaring absence of shoes outside the officetel door, and even in the pantry, there was the loaf of Sunshine bread bought over the weekend.
But the dude wasn't here.
And that was the hardest part- seeing the smallest things- and feeling the glaring absence, the sense of abandonment.
It surprises me even now, but I can say that for the entire period of time, I was a wreck- a genuine wreck- what with trying to cope with the shock of emotional loss, the necessity for work continuity. trying to resolve issues which had hitherto not (quite) been my portfolio, and which I had not been handed the resources to handle.
It was a s***a** situation.
I liken it to that of a wife whose husband has suddenly passed on, saddling her with the debts and problems of his company, a family to take care of, personal financial issues, and with no resources to lean on simply because she had been too dependent on him.
And yet, I still had to keep up the smile.
Because whilst I wanted to wallow in misery (which I did) and just let it all go, it didn't seem right to what it was we were doing, it didn't seem right to our clients past, present and future and it didn't seem right to let the whole thing go to rubble because of my emotional state. After all, the dude hadn't passed on, he was coming back after being on "urgent outstation", there was work he had to do... and so I coped.. as well as I could.
Slice by slice the bread got eaten, the cup was left where it was, and in the silence of the night, when all the rest had left, I allowed myself to grieve and worry and wail and scream. Or, I sat on the floor and tried to get lost in the little blue lights twinkling on the Christmas tree.