Sunday, January 11, 2015

No Longer the Same

As a young pregnant mom, my grandma eased into the day, still in her bathrobe.  Esther, her second daughter, was down the street at a skating party at the church.   A distress call came in reporting that Esther had been hit by a car and was on the way to the hospital.  Grandpa went directly to the hospital, but Grandma, who could not go outside in her bathrobe, stayed home to get dressed.  By the time she got to the hospital it was too late.  She never got to see her daughter alive again.  Grandma never talked to me about it, but it is reported that after that, no one ever saw her less than completely dressed when she started her day.  I believe Esther was 6 years old....

I went in halfsies on my first surfboard when I was in jr. high.  My parents disapproved, feeling that it was too dangerous, but they allowed it.  One summer day to back up her case, Mom showed me an article in the paper about a 13 year old kid who drowned while surfing at the Huntington Beach pier.  I scoffed as I began to read the account....  Wait a minute!  I know this guy.  Wayne!  He was a classmate of mine, and a really good guy.  I only half-heartedly embraced surfing thereafter, and to this day I have never ventured out into the waters at the HB pier....

Theoretically, nothing wrong with Grandma's routine, nothing wrong with the waves at the HB pier, nothing wrong with that stretch of roadway.  But for those who have experienced personal traumatic loss along the way, some things will forever be tarnished.  Most people will not understand.  Associated smells, sights, seasons, mere mentions, second-guessings can re-trigger crippling emotional grief and unleash seemingly insurmountable sorrow.

There was one who was reportedly acquainted with our sorrows and griefs.  We can turn to him to begin finding traction, or we can tough it out, bear the pain, and hope to avoid any triggers....

Trauma comes in many forms.  I have know people who have unexpectedly lost a child, lost a husband, lost a wife, lost both parents.  Lost their innocence, lost their faith, lost touch with reality, lost their will to live.  No doubt, trauma taints and distorts much of our daily experience.  We all seek understanding and rest.















2 comments:

Buck Dopp said...

Chris,

Your sharing reminded me how we all have past experiences that forever change the way we look at certain things. I played the violin for three years. Whenever we had company my Dad would make me haul it out and play one of the three or four songs I knew. One time, the guests snickered while I played and laughed when I made a mistake. I put the violin away and never picked it up again. I was 14.

Chris Cushingham, Sr. said...

Buck,

Thank you for sharing.

I still only play my banjo in the office when no one else is around. Have to say I kinda laugh at my own playing. It takes me about 4 or 5 minutes to go through my entire repertoire. (But I still have a modicum of fun.)

Sadly, parts of normal, healthy life get tainted along the way and we are no longer the same.