Then and Now...and...

Grief is open-ended. The more I live it, the more I know it.

One of my co-workers came up with a way to yell my name which is similar to the way Mr. Spacely, of The Jetsons fame yelled George Jetson’s name (“JetSON!!”) so he’s been calling me “BurRAGE!!”, raising the pitch toward the end for effect.

Hearing my name out loud, with the emphasis on the last syllable caused me to keep repeating my own name over and over until it no longer sounded familiar. If you have ever done that, you already know that you end up feeling like you don’t really know why you’ve done it.

Burrage didn’t used to be my last name. I didn’t take Chris’ name when we got married. I didn’t want to change my name at first, and then I became confused by all of my options. I could change names completely, hyphenate my name or not change my name at all. I didn’t take Chris’ name until after he died. Once he was gone, I became aware that I wanted to carry him with me throughout my life, and taking his name was a very visible, deliberate way of doing so. I dropped my middle name, slid my maiden name (Orloff) into its place and snapped Burrage onto the end.

I remember Robin Orloff, but I can’t quite relate to who she was, anymore. That girl is long gone and somebody so much better; so much more patient, understanding and giving; and so much richer has replaced her. Robin Orloff was shallow, needy, attention-craving, a little self-centered and lacking in perspective.

Since Chris had to die, I may as well be happy about the positive changes that took place within me as a result. Without having to say, I would obviously rather be shallow, needy, attention-craving, self-centered, perspective-lacking Robin Orloff, but since she died along with Chris, I choose to be nice, giving, caring and happy Robin Burrage.

Grief is open-ended. I cried for an hour and a half last night because I want Chris to come back and be my husband, again. My journey has bypassed the two-and-a-half-year mark. I just read, in my Adult Development & Aging textbook, that widowed people report having grieved up to and beyond eight years! I laugh when I remember thinking “I don’t have a whole year to grieve!” when Chris first died. Oh the things I didn’t know, one of which was that I was living a virtually pain-free life up until his death. Nothing really ever went wrong in my life. I complained a lot and screamed enough to make the most avid nay-sayer believe my life was a turbulent cesspool of unfairness, but the truth is that I used to cry regularly if I wasn’t cast in the leading role of a community theater production for which I had auditioned.

The lessons I have learned and those I have yet to learn.

Janus: In Roman mythology, Janus was the god of gates, doors, doorways, beginnings, and endings. His most apparent remnants in modern culture are his namesakes, the month of January and the caretaker of doors and halls: Janitor.

Janus was frequently used to symbolize change and transitions such as the progression of future to past, of one condition to another, of one vision to another, the growing up of young people, and of one universe to another. He was also known as the figure representing time because he could see into the past with one face and into the future with the other.