Flashbacks

It’s been eight months since my mom died. On the whole, I think I’ve been moving through the grief in a way that’s been honest and healthy. I’m making progress with the next phase of my life.

One thing has given me trouble, though. Something I never expected: flashbacks. Sudden, unpredictable and intensely painful memories of Mom’s last two weeks, when she was actively dying.

They happen during ordinary moments, mostly at night and come out of nowhere, when I am doing something completely innocuous. Finishing up some work on a jigsaw puzzle for the evening. Taking out our corgi, Duncan, before bedtime.

An image of my mom in those last days takes over my brain, slamming itself onto the inside of my skull. An image I never want to remember or see again in this life. An image of suffering that she in no way deserved.

When I have one of these episodes, I literally shake my head to try to make the image break up into tiny pieces and dissolve. It doesn’t work. It goes away when it decides to, leaving me feeling disturbed from the inside out and afraid of the next ambush.

After trying to slug it out on my own with the flashbacks, I reached out to my hospice grief support to get help. Mike had been checking in on me every month. Thank God.

When I went to see him, I began with a disclaimer:

I’m reluctant to call these “flashbacks” out of respect for veterans who have seen things that are a thousand times worse.

Mike talked to me about trauma and how it looks different for all of us. The fact is what Mom and I went through together at the very end was traumatic. So these were indeed flashbacks,

a normal part of the grieving process.

He talked to me about changing the narrative in my mind at night. Instead of living in fear of the next ambush, find something I can lean on that brings comfort to me and focus on it proactively. A song. A poem. A fragrance. I would have to determine what works for me.

I left our meeting with “homework,” which works for me. I didn’t know what I would choose to lean on, but I was confident I’d find it.

Two months ago, I began praying at night with an app called Hallow. I fell in love with it the very first time I opened it up. It felt like something that would really help me to deepen my relationship with God.

At least once a week in a Hallow session, I would happen upon a prayer with this line:

Jesus, I trust in you.

First it was a simple meditation on that line that encouraged you to say this little one-sentence prayer when you feel anxious or uncertain. I did it and it was comforting.

Then one night I stumbled upon something called The Litany of Divine Mercy, where this line is repeated many times. Reciting the litany gave me a feeling of quiet peace.

I had found my something I could lean on. Rather, it had found me.

Jesus, I trust in you.

I recently bought this Divine Mercy chaplet on Etsy, after saying it without actual rosary beads on Hallow. It gives me something to hold onto as I pray the words that are now helping me to change the narrative at night and quiet the flashbacks.

I have wanted my mom to send me some communication from Heaven. She has. It’s not her voice. It’s her faith.

She was the person who taught me about God when I was little. She was the person I could talk to about God all my life. I really believe she is now the heavenly guide who is leading me to the deeper relationship with God that I’ve been seeking.

Maybe it took the flashbacks to help me finally see it.