In my experience, the “stages of grief” are a real thing…denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance. Just start reading through my blog from the beginning, and you’ll see them all here in my writing.

I would add, at least for me, it hasn’t been a linear experience.

Sometimes I go through all of the stages in one day, only to start from the top again the next morning.

I recently read where someone had likened grief to a chronic illness. I think this analogy is perfect.

From the onset of the illness, one might experience anything from a dull ache to crippling pain. One may go through long or short stretches of time in which they are not as plagued by the symptoms of their grief…a remission of sorts. Other days the symptoms are brutal, and plentiful.

Lately I have been feeling better. I have been really working on bringing my focus, gratefully, to what I had (a wonderful father) and to what I have (a beautiful life) and away from what (whom) I have lost.


My Chronic Illness will not allow me to believe that a cure is imminent.

In fact, my Chronic Illness wonders why I have the gall to believe I’m well.  It makes a point of reminding me that I will never be free from it.

My Chronic Illness knows that the best place to flare up is in the car…long road trips especially.

It knows I’m trapped.

It whispers…


Don’t you remember what you’ve been through? What you’ve lost?

Don’t you remember that hysterical phone call?

Don’t you remember those nights curled up in the reclining chair because you wouldn’t – couldn’t – leave?

Don’t you remember the neurosurgeon with the smirky nervous tick?

Don’t you remember the cold conference room; the moment they said aloud what you already knew to be true?

Don’t you remember how you foolishly hoped, just for a second, he’d wake up when they took out the breathing tube?

Don’t you remember how he died while your mother had been called out of the room?  How he started breathing again, just for a moment, when she returned?

Don’t you remember holding his warm hand, knowing it was for the last time?

Don’t you remember, Bethy?



{Satisfied, My Chronic Illness retreats again…until the next time.}




6 Comments on “Day 160/365 Chronic

  1. My Dad died Jan. 7, 2017 and I feel your pain. I enjoyed your article!! Thanks for your words, now I don’t feel so alone in my painful grief.


  2. Beautifully written and so very true.

    Wendy Connors deWolf, M.S., CCC-SLP Speech/Language Pathologist



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