Skip to main content

The Wrath



The Wrath

I had this sinking feeling over two years ago. I knew if he took care of her too much, that I would lose him.  Not to another woman. No. But to a disease. I understood the wrath of the caregiver related to the terminally ill, the dying. The Wrath. The Wrath is the repercussions placed on the related caregiver of someone dying.

I’ve known enough about it.  That I’ve warned many people in those predicaments. Even the ones I loved. Most don’t listen to me.  The closer they are to me, the less they listen. It is sadly, to their demise.  They refuse to see what I say is true. They think they’ve sinned and that is why they are now dying.  But that’s not the truth. Everybody sins. Some more than others. It’s not that. If it were that, then the most heinous of criminals and the most dastardly greedy men and women would now be dead. Real soon.   We’d live in a utopia. But that’s not how the physiology of the human spirit and body work together.

When someone is connected, whether it be as parents, siblings, children or as a spouse. There is a physiological connection. As well, a spiritual connection. Most people don’t recognize this.  Because most people are not grounded. Most people WILL resist proper somatic and psychotherapies.  For it is still seen as a sign of weakness about their structure, their outward being, their health, possibly their belonging or likeability. It is not.

The cross-sections of society and culture as to their reactions to the mind-body is still at a discord. Not much has changed. Most of us have forgotten that we actually die. That this living here is so temporary. The here now is a placement. For whatever reason we exist in this physiological position. Which is at times uncomfortable. Some notice the discomforts of being human. For me being human is a dichotomy. I know it’s temporary. I think I’ve known that nearly all my life.

I told our children, that if I became a burden suddenly to them. That they could put me in a place that made it better for their existence and I would not be angry with them.  And if I was, it was because I was being selfish and or I was out of my mind. Yet, if they let me pass naturally. In the end there would be no animosity towards them. And spiritually, they need to be at peace with the rest of their lives. As to not be hindered by ‘The Wrath’, nor to suffer greatly.---Jody-Lynn Reicher

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

It Follows Me...

One may wonder what would inspire someone to work hard labor voluntarily. For me it’s the love of many things. It’s the passion that won’t be broken. Because there are so many aspects to such service for me, that it may seem beyond comprehension. I’d compare it to my youthful desire to enter the military as a young child. Then for a multitude of reasons only to follow through thirteen years later at age eighteen entering the Marines. There were things that followed me throughout my life. Sometimes they were questions of how I ever gave up my over decade’s life dream to become a New Jersey State Trooper. My childhood desire to never wed—to never have any serious relationships with another human being. I desired only service in military and law enforcement nearly my whole childhood. Too the extent that even one of my Marine Corps superiors expressed to me last July, “I never thought you’d ever get married. It just wasn’t who you were. You were always a loner.” I replied, “Yeah. I know.

Sledging the Hammer

  "You could have a steam trainIf you'd just lay down your tracks..."---Peter Gabriel's 'Sledgehammer' lyrics. This is not the tune that lay in my mind this morning as I reminisced about yesterday's volunteers to help on trail crew.    However, as I looked up the proper definition of sledging that song popped up. I say sledging, which is my own take on swinging a hammer that we call a "Double Jack". The Single Jack is six pounds. I know that because our regular crew of five including me and one staff supervisor are handling Harriman State Park Trails, and have to carry about four of those, two shaping hammers, along with a hoist, belay bag with heavy equipment, first aid kit, double Jack, three 18lb rock bars, a lopper, three buckets, three eye to eyes, two burlap straps, two green wrapping straps, two pick Mattox, a roe hoe or two, a bar for either the two ton or one ton hoist, the feathers with pegs for splitting rocks that we drill... s

Death in the Distant Future...

  Death in the Distant Future… Or at least that is what its supposed to be. We don’t suppose people should die at a certain age. We will witness suffering; but we know it gets better. So, we’ve been told. Or so, we have hope that it will. There are instances of mass tragedy. Sometimes we call that war—maybe insanity—perhaps terrorism… We have names for it, that type of death. Then there are the terminals. Things we think we can control—once we know the enemy within.   Or things we follow, pray for, aim for. We hold hands for it. Or we choose to suffer with the suffering because it matters. And it doesn’t matter how it matters. Then there is some form of Universal Order. A tainted weird line of fate. Perhaps mathematically calculated in everyone’s existence. No matter how great, how menial a life on earth may appear there’s a geometric wave—a pattern. We can involve other mathematical ideologies—Fibonacci, perhaps. And each of our lives are formulas. Formulas appearing misundersto