The Babadook Never Left

It has been over three and a half years since I have written any new submissions for this blog discussing my grief journey.

In that time, I have remarried (my beautiful wife Kari) and I have accepted a call to a new church (Lutheran Church of the Cross).

Life has been good. 

Don't get me wrong, life has had its ups and downs, as it always will; but overall, life has been good.

My grief has changed over these years. Never fully absent, yet never fully present. Just there. As it always will be.

Which brings me to my first story for this post. I have to tell you this story before I tell you the main story.

This is the story of the Babadook.

This photograph shows a silhouette of the Babadook tattooed inside the back of my right arm, above the elbow. I rarely see it. It was placed out of sight for a reason. Allow me to explain...

The Babadook is a film that came out in 2014. If you haven't seen the film, I must warn you that this story involves spoilers. Seriously, stop reading now if you don't want the film spoiled for you. Otherwise, please proceed. 

In the film, a woman is on her way to the hospital with her husband to give birth to their first child. On the way, they get into a car accident and the husband loses his life.

We jump ahead a few years, and the woman is raising her child alone, she is still stricken with grief. She won't speak, or allow anyone to speak, her husband's name. She is detached from her son.

The son begins acting out, and he blames his behavior on the Babadook. And, it isn't long before the Babadook begins manifesting itself as a shadowy, noisy figure in their home. At times, the shadow silhouette of the Babadook resembles the silhouette of her dead husband's clothing that is still hanging in her room.

The film is pretty creepy overall, as we watch this mother hide and cower from this thing that appears to be haunting her home. The film reaches an anxiety inducing climax that concludes with the mother bravely standing up to the dark entity and telling it that it has no right to haunt her and her son in their own home. Her ability to face the darkness causes it to retreat.
I'm sure that many of you see where this is heading. The film is allegorical. (That was lost on a lot of people, by the way.) The film is a portrayal of our need to face our grief or depression, rather than hide from it. And, it even has a brilliant twist at the end. The Babadook retreats to and lives in the basement, the mother visits it from time to time, to "feed it" or to "face it". It never goes away, but it is maintained. Pretty clever, eh?

The film resonated very strongly with Kari and I. My grief, like the Babadook, was very scary when I tried to avoid it or hide from it. But, when I would face it, it became manageable. 

But, it never fully goes away. That's why I have the silhouette tattooed on me, in that strange spot on the backside of my arm. The Babadook reminds me that my grief will always be there, but it won't always be where I see it all the time.

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So, I told you that story, because you needed to hear that story to better understand this story.

I haven't been strongly affected by my grief for a while. It's been pretty manageable, and nothing has "triggered" any sensitive spots.

That being said, you have probably gathered that I wouldn't be typing this blog entry if something hadn't happened to remind me that the grief is always there. The Babadook never left. 

I was reminded that there will still be milestones in my grief journey by a trip to Minnesota last weekend.

Tiffany's cousin Liesl was getting ordained in Saint Paul, and I really wanted to be there. And, I wanted Kari to come with me.

Kari agreed to go immediately. Kari has met Liesl before and we all spent time together in California when I graduated from seminary. Kari had also met Liesl's brother Matt on that trip. So, she already had a level of familiarity and comfort with them.

But, this trip would be the first time Kari met Tiffany's brothers. And, we had planned to take flowers to Tiffany's grave while we were there.

Now, I'm not dumb (by most standards), I anticipated that there would be some anxiety on everybody's part. Myself included. I wanted everyone to enjoy the joyous occasion for which we were gathered, and I didn't want anyone to be painfully uncomfortable.

Weeks before the trip, I became restless and I wasn't sleeping well. And, like the early days of my grief, my brain became foggy. I had a hard time focusing on anything, I was forgetful, and I didn't feel like myself.

If I were less dumb, I could have speculated that this all was related to my unending grief journey. This was the Babadook lurking in the shadows. But hey, I'm not the first person to lack in self awareness.

Well, I'll cut right to the chase. The trip was fantastic. Liesl's ordination service was wonderful. And, Tiffany's family could not have been more warm and welcoming to Kari. They even made sure she was included in the family photos after the ordination.

Tiffany's brother, Stephen (aka Stevo), let us stay with he and his wife Michelle. We got to spend a lot of time with them. We got to spend time with Tiffany's brother Bryan and his wife Steffi. And, of course, we got to spend quality time with Aunt Carolyn and Uncle Steve. I could not have asked for a better weekend with family. It was truly a blessing.

(P.S. Matt and I did what Matt and I always do, we hugged each other a lot and we drank a lot of beer.)

Of course, you may have noticed that I'm leaving out a big part of the story. The part that I realized was the source of all of my restlessness and fog in the weeks leading up to the trip. Visiting Tiffany's grave with Kari.

I knew the ordination would be great. I knew that Tiffany's family would be warm and welcoming. I knew that Kari would enjoy the trip and the people. What I didn't know, was how I would do visiting the grave of my late spouse with my new spouse.

Just think about that for a minute. Can you imagine how surreal that situation could be? Can you look at your spouse right now and imagine visiting their grave with a future spouse? I hope you have never had to consider that possibility. But, maybe now you can begin to understand why my brain was feeling like biscuits and gravy. I was about to do something you can't prepare for. There is no handbook for that situation.

We woke up Sunday morning, said our goodbyes to Stevo and Michelle and we hit the road. I took Kari to see Luther Seminary. We got her a Minnesota Twins shirt. And, then we went to Target to find flowers for Tiffany's grave. We found some nice mums. 

I could barely see straight as we left Target, my mind was racing. The whole drive from there to the cemetery, I was emotional. A lump in my throat, tears in my eyes. 

We got there, we found her grave, and there we stood. Kari broke the silence by telling me she loved me. I needed to hear it. I told her that I loved her too. We talked about Tiffany. We talked about life. But, mostly we stood there quietly embracing.

As we were walking away, I apologized to Kari, I told her that I know it's hard for her too. I know it's not easy to be married to a widower. 

What she said next reached out and healed my troubled heart. She said, "It used to be hard, but it's a lot easier now because I love you so much. It's easier for me to help you through this because of how much I love you." And, as we pulled away in the truck she said, "I love you more every day, and that makes things like this easier." Tears continued to flow down my cheeks. I told her that I couldn't be more lucky to have her love and support to help me get through. And, I couldn't be more lucky to still have the love and support of Tiffany's family. Then I said, "I think Tiffany's family is pretty fond of you too, if you couldn't tell this weekend." She got choked up and acknowledged how much that meant to her as well.

Then we drove off, enjoyed our respective drinks from Dunkin', and I felt a weight lifted off of my shoulders, a veil lifted from my brain.

I acknowledged the Babadook, I didn't hide from it, I fed it. 

We went on to have a nice night in Chicago with Kari's family, then we made it home safely the next day. I'm sleeping okay again, and I'm feeling "normal" again.

This trip was an important reminder that the grief journey is ongoing. That it doesn't end, it merely changes. But, with the right people by your side, you can get through it.

If it's in a word, or it's in a look, you can't get rid of the Babadook.