Daryl Wood's Blog

I’ve read many books over the years about how our bodies and cell tissues store our experiences. What I didn’t expect was to witness it play out these past few days.

This is the time last year when Doug began treatment for the new diagnosis of MDS Leukemia. It brought on a whole new intensity of appointments, consultations, treatments, scheduling, anxiety and fear. We both worked hard at keeping a positive outlook and doing everything we could to find a glimmer of normal in our now completely upended lives. These weeks leading up to his passing November 12th were all consuming and physically, emotionally, psychologically and spiritually. Every aspect of our lives were impacted in challenging ways.

Over the past few weeks I’ve reflected on how I wanted to approach this time. At first, I reached out for comfort and encouragement from others. Then, after a wonderful vacation with friends and family I decided to focus on healing and not talk about the pain and suffering we endured. It seemed like a good plan and I was managing. Until I wasn’t. Suddenly, without any particular trigger or reason huge tears would roll down my cheeks. After two days of gulping down my grief I realized that even if I was moving along and making life livable again, my body remembered.

My body remembered the long hours on the road and sleepless nights caring for his needs. My body remembered lifting wheelchairs and walkers into the car and carrying boxes of liquid nutrition and supplies. My body remembered being on alert for choking, fainting and emergency trips to the hospital. My body remembered the disordered eating while travelling and racing from one urgent situation to the next. And my body remembered holding Doug’s hand through painful injections and moments of awareness that we couldn’t even talk about.

So as much as I thought I could reframe these hard days and weeks, my body remembers what we lived through not that long ago. And so it is that as my family visits I let myself sob and recount the worst days of my life so that my body is acknowledged for all it went through. It is a gift to my healing that I don’t cover up the reality or shrug off the memories that sometimes ignite a flood of tears. I will do what I can to treat my body, mind and spirit kindly as I give grief the space it needs to be honoured.