How Brains Process the Death of a Loved One
That brain fog happens for a reason
Once upon a time, not so long ago, before my husband died of cancer, I was a capable person. I could multitask the heck out of 14-hour workdays and juggle dozens of to-dos with efficiency.
I would go to the hardware store for item X and, while there, also remember to get items Y and Z.
I could form sentences and find all the right words. I could follow a logical argument and question the gaps.
I am no longer this person. I hope to have a functioning brain again someday, but right now I’m learning to live with this constant fog in my synapses.
At first, I thought it was lack of sleep, like in the baby-brain days after our son was born, but I’m clocking nine to 10 hours a night. And it’s not life exhaustion, like when I was balancing farm work with a full-time job. My kid and I have it pretty easy these days.
Then I read some grief books, and we talked about physiological grief in my bereavement support group, and I realized my brain hasn’t stopped working. It’s just preoccupied.
At our most basic level, we are animals, and even though I know Brock has died, my brain is having trouble grasping this.
