Sharon Odom

Hi everyone!

It’s taken a really really long time, but I’m finally back among the living.

After my Mom died (it’s still SO hard to write those words or to believe them), life was very very dark. I couldn’t grasp that she was really gone.

I can’t tell you how despondent I was — such feelings of remorse and guilt for all the worry I had caused her. As the “hard-headed” baby of the family, she worried about me a lot. I wasn’t there for most of her golden years because I lived out of state for a long time before moving back here in 2003. Why did I do that? How could I have taken her for granted? The list was endless.

Guilt is Death’s Companion

Then I discovered that guilt is perhaps the most painful companion of death. When a loved one dies, feelings of guilt are normal. I didn’t know that, did you?

I found out that regardless of how or why our loved one died, we sift through the evidence of past behavior, giving ourselves reasons to be miserable. We become tormented by our own perceived failures, omissions, poor judgment, or unwise choices.

We all do and say things we later regret. When a loved one has died we are reminded of those hurts and failings, real or imagined, of words we regret saying, incidents we’d like to forget, actions we’d like to take back. We consider every possible action that we could have taken or not taken to prevent the death.

But the fact is, very few of us have a legitimate reason for feeling any significant guilt at all. And these self-inflicted emotional wounds plunge us even further into despair. What we’re really feeling is a lack of control over what happened. And accepting that we have little control over the lives of those we love is a difficult thing indeed.

It took a lot of reading about death and guilt and grief for me to get it. I found a couple of articles that really helped on HealingHeart.net and Grief.com. I realized that guilt, depression, anger, denial, all of those are part of the grieving process.

It’s Okay to Live Again

I started to feel a bit better. Then I felt bad about feeling better — did that mean I was losing her? No. How long we grieve or how deeply we hurt does not reflect how much we loved someone. If I give up wallowing in pain, I’m not going to lose her. The fact that I allow myself to live life doesn’t mean that I love her any less. It doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten her. Not even close.

One thing I know for sure  — she would not want me to drown in grief and depression, and would be very upset with me. She’d be like “C’mon girl, get up and do something!”

A couple years ago we were on the way home from visiting my sister’s grave and we talked about death. She said she hated the thought of leaving us, and you could tell she was thinking about it, she knew it was coming. I told her that she wasn’t going anywhere, and when she did I was going with her. She said no, you have to stay here and take care of those children. That is what she wanted. Not Sharon under the covers.

Letting Go

Gradually I learned to focus on all the wonderful times we had together during her last years. Every weekend we went through her email and posted updates to her Facebook. She loved technology. We talked about our favorite football team and watched games together. Yes, she knew football and got me hooked on it growing up. Our daily texts back and forth, nightly phone calls. I can look back at those times now and smile instead of cry.

It’s now been almost 8 months and I think I’ve come to grips with it. Yes, she’s gone, physically — I have to accept that.

But she’s still here in so many ways, her legacy and spirit lives on in her family and friends, especially in her grandchildren. How she loved the triplets!

Speaking of which, Isaiah, Mariah & Sierra graduated from high school! She would have been so proud, we definitely felt her spirit beaming down from heaven.

Thanks again for all your thoughts and prayers.

Above all, thank you Momma, your baby girl loves you!

Words of wisdom from my wonderful Mother, it was typed on a sheet of paper she gave to me, author unknown…

When things go wrong, as they sometimes will,
When the road you’re trudging seems all uphill,
When the funds are low and the debts are high,
And you want to smile, but you have to sigh,
When care is pressing you down a bit,
Rest, if you must, but don’t you quit.

Life is queer with its twists and turns,
As every one of us sometimes learns,
And many a failure turns about,
When he might have won had he stuck it out;
Don’t give up though the pace seems slow —
You may succeed with another blow.

Often the goal is nearer than,
It seems to a faint and faltering man,
Often the struggler has given up,
When he might have captured the victor’s cup,
And he learned too late when the night slipped down,
How close he was to the golden crown.

Success is failure turned inside out —
The silver tint of the clouds of doubt,
And you never can tell how close you are,
It may be near when it seems so far,
So stick to the fight when you’re hardest hit —
It’s when things seem worst that you must not quit.

 

 

Back in 2007, I read an article in the Houston Chronicle by columnist Leon Hale that made me stop and think. Here’s what he said:

When you get as old as I am, people come around and ask questions like, “If you could crank the calendars back and become 21 again, would you do anything different?”

You bet I would.

To begin with, let’s deal with the matter of backing up and becoming 21 again. Obviously this is not going to happen, but it’s a game old people like to play. Most of them say, “No, thanks. I wouldn’t go back to 21 even if I got the chance.”

You won’t catch me saying that. I’d accept that gift in a split minute. Be 21 again? Bring it on. I’ve already lived into my mid-80s, and those years have gone by like a drag race. I’d dearly love to have half a dozen more decades.

So what would I do different?

First, on my 21st birthday I would begin keeping a journal. Every night I’d record where I went and what I did and with whom, even if the day has been routine and dreary. I would do that until I got old again.

Reason this is important to me, I figure I’ve forgotten at least half the detail of the years I’ve lived. I’ve forgotten hundreds of names, places, events, remarks made, kindnesses done, wounds dealt.

I grieve the loss of these details. They would be of huge value to me now. They represent a large part of my life, and they’re gone. It’s like half of me is already dead.

So in this little fantasy I’m having today, I’d keep the journal …”

Then he goes on to talk about learning to play the piano and learning another language, which is another “I wish I would’ve…” for me. All those years that I was single and free could’ve been spent learning Spanish.

Ok, so even though I’m quite a few years past 21,  there’s still a lot of candy left in this piñata, so I will keep a journal from now on.  And maybe I’ll still learn another language.

The date of that column was July 29, 2007 and I’ve kept a daily journal ever since (the 2 paragraphs above were lifted from that day’s entry).

Every night I fire up LifeJournal and type in the details of my day, no matter how mundane. Sometimes I’ll even make notes during the day in a draft email so I don’t forget, then copy it over to LJ at night. I find it very therapeutic to unburden my soul and pour out everything. I probably would have done this years ago if there had been a way to password protect the entries.  Now  I can write anything I want, knowing my secrets are safe.

And every now and then I’ll go back and read some of those entries and you know what? Leon’s right — I’ve forgotten many of those details already, and it hasn’t even been that long! Here’s an entry that I just love…and had totally forgotten about:

Isaiah said something that I thought was so cute I had to write it down so I wouldn’t forget. We were talking about when we lived in California and I mentioned going to Disney studios to work. He said, “I didn’t know you had to go out for work.”

Isn’t that great? Here’s a child who has always known his mother to work at home. Of course they know I work, but I love it that they see me making money from home, with my own business. Already I try to stress having their own business — when Sierra says she wants to work at the pet store, I say “no, you want to own the pet store and work there when you feel like it.”

The journal can also be useful for figuring out what day we did this or that. Really, it’s like being able to recapture and relive great moments and memories that would otherwise be lost forever. Life is in the details, and when the details are lost, you’re left with lots of empty gaps. In my 20s I used to make cryptic notes on a calendar but without the details, it’s like peeking through the window into someone else’s life, wishing I could see more.

So for all of you younger folks, heed Leon’s words and start keeping that journal now. You’ll be glad you did.