The Grieving Room - when does one "heal"?

[For those who have missed this over the last several Monday evenings, this is a weekly forum (with rotating hosts) for whoever happens by and wants to discuss issues relating to grief, death, loss, or impending loss.  Share your story, or read and cry - use it for what it's worth to you.   Giving it a Rec each week will help keep it where more people can see it and perhaps find some comfort.  Thanks.]

In the ever-changing journey of my own grief (it's been 6 and a half weeks since my mother died after a year-long illness), I ran into my first unexpected turn in the road this weekend.

Something is missing, and I only just realized what.

When you or someone you love is given a terminal diagnosis, and after the inevitable initial shock and grief, there is an unmistakable "hum" of anxiety; it lives as a knot in your gut or a buzz in the back of your mind, and it is always there, ready to burst into panic or full-blown grief as soon as conditions require.

It's gone.   I listened for it, and searched my body for it, but it's gone.  And that's a beautiful thing.

I'm sure this isn't earth-shattering to those of you who've been through it, but it was actually pleasant to realize that that low hum of anxiety that had plagued me since 3/30/06, the day my mom was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, was just... gone.

Don't get me wrong - I would gladly have that anxiety and more back if it meant I could have my mom back... but knowing that's not an option, I am feeling free of that burden without any guilt and with some actual pleasure.   I know my mom would be happy about this, too.   I'm sure whatever amount of stress I had, she had the extra burden of facing her own impending death.    

It's impossible to know; the last time we talked, and for much of her last two months, she was a little frantic.   Our last conversation consisted of her repeating "I love you" about fifty times, while I tried to calm her with my own pledge of love and the reassurance that I knew she'd always love me and I'd always love her.  But after she became relatively immobile and non-communicative, she radiated calm.   I like to think that this wasn't just her body being unable to express anxiety; perhaps she had an awareness that it would be OK, and that it was time to release that anxiety - perhaps this led to her being ready to die.   I'll never know, but I do like that idea.

Regardless, my stress is gone.   I still occasionally feel anger at the unfairness of it all, and even denial during much of my day-to-day work (the concept that my mother is dead doesn't haunt me every waking hour).   But most of the time, I'm having what feels like just "normal" mourning: sadness and regret, along with so many happy memories.  

I'm looking forward to her visiting my dreams; many have shared that these dreams are comforting, and I'm ready to have one.

I guess it's been a good week.  

How are you doing?

PS - Special thanks to sj for doing a lovely hosting job last week.   Next week, in honor of Memorial Day, exmearden will have the hosting duties.   If anyone would like to volunteer for a future Monday, please drop me a line at [e-mail].  Thank you.