Like always, this is new blog is not coming out of nowhere. Since the first day of this New Year I have been cognizant that 2012 signifies a decade since Flynn died. Typically I feel a heightened awareness of his being with the approach of his actual anniversary, but this year there is a lingering ache at the realization that it has been ten years since my arms embraced him. Consequently some days I have felt particularly fragmented, today being one of them. Alan Wolfelt may refer to these experiences as a "grief burst" but whatever you would like to call it; I am feeling my grief wash over me like it was just yesterday.
You may be wondering how this grief is manifesting itself (I would be wondering)? Respectfully, it has been ten years since Flynn's death and so it is likely that I wear my grief differently than I did then. In fact, outwardly the grief does present differently. For example, I am capable of participating in my daily tasks and remaining composed is not a continuous chore. In saying that, my internalized reactions to this grief burst are familiar. Among these emotional responses is a heightened awareness of my own mortality and that of my family (I like to call it "the illusion of control that we comfortably live with" until it is shattered of course) followed by the emergence of helpless anxiety.
Today's grief burst was triggered by a dream that I had last night. While the dream was a fictional storyline created by my unconscious mind, the feelings that ensued as a result of the dream were very real. In my dream I was attempting to resuscitate a little girl whom I identified as my sister (of note: I do not have a sister) after finding her in a pool. I woke up feeling as traumatized as I was ten years ago. I came out of the dream with my heart racing, the pit in my middle ached and all I could think was "oh no, not again." While Flynn's death was the result of complications at birth, this dream conjured up similar feelings of responsibility for this young life and the knowledge of my own helplessness. It is not surprising that I would suffer from a grief burst for the remainder of the day.