GriefSpeak: Dirty Laundry (Reprise) – Dr. Mari Dias

By: Dr. Mari Dias

Sadie and Andy discussed the pandemic a year ago, each in agreement that at this stage of their lives it was unfair. They weren’t living. They were simply existing. The stay-at-home order was not on their bucket list. They had plans – big travel plans. While waiting for a bright spot in their lives, Andy began complaining of a backache. He associated this pain with the lack of his weekly activities: no bowling, no golf, no bocce. He had been existing in his recliner since the initial lockdown. Andy’s first foray into the world was a doctor’s appointment; his second a CAT scan. The diagnosis was stage 4 pancreatic cancer. Sadie stepped up to the challenge and assured him that this was a good time (if there ever was a good time) to be sick.

“We need to stay home anyway, Andy. We’ll get through this and be ready when we are vaccinated and free to follow our plans.”

Sadie wasn’t really optimistic about the cancer, but thought she needed to be for Andy. They postponed their 50^th wedding anniversary due to the pandemic. Another event with which to look forward. Andy’s decline was rapid and painful. Chemotherapy made him feel sicker. Sadie took on the role of his caretaker, nurse, and companion. Three months later Sadie was tired.

“Exhausted” is the word she used.

Sadie bemoaned the work required to take care of her husband. He was eligible for Hospice, but he refused to engage with strangers. He wanted only Sadie. And she obliged, enthusiastically at first but now, as the months went by, not so much. The lines between her role as a wife and her role as a caretaker blurred and the caretaker role dominated. Sadie didn’t have thinking time. Or remembering time. Of the good days. She could only focus on fulfilling Andy’s daily physical needs. She felt as if that was all she had left. She was tired of the daily laundry – the stained sheets and towels, and pajamas from the night before. Tired of the pureed meals she made in the Nutribullet. Feeling guilty and ashamed for her tiredness.

It was the pajamas that triggered her thinking and remembering time. As she rinsed the urine-soaked pajama bottoms, she thought of St. Joseph’s Day, 2018. They took a ride up to Federal Hill to purchase their traditional zeppolas. They squeezed them and licked the cream as they sat on a bench in the square. It was an unusually warmish day.

When they finished, they attended the parade, everyone clothed in the red, white, and green of the Italian flag. Sadie had a surprise for Andy. When they returned home, all his bocce buddies were waiting in the backyard. They were practicing, hoping to get their ball closer to the pallino or at least kiss it. Andy joined them as Sadie went into the house to retrieve a gallon jug of homemade wine and a bottle of grappa for the winner. She found it difficult to balance everything which led her back into the house for a tray of provolone cheese, hard salami, pancetta, and stuffed olives.

Sadie sat in a folding chair, away from the men and their game, thinking about how excited she was. She was confident Andy would love the gift. When Andy won the game, she gave him grappa and his gift, thinking it was better to have a lot of people in a memory. Andy unwrapped the gift box and smacked his hand down on his thigh, and through his buzzed laughter he said:
“Sadie, Sadie, Sadie. Where did you find these? He held up a pair of white cotton pajamas with little Italian flags sprinkled on both the top and bottom.

Andy’s buddies hooted and howled, shouting “Buon San Giuseppe!! Buon San Giuseppe! That evening Andy wore the pajamas and posed for a selfie. Andy swore he would wear them every Saint Joseph’s day until he died. Sadie sighed with satisfaction.

All this came back in technicolor as Sadie did the laundry. She remembered just being Andy’s wife.

It is not Saint Joseph’s Day today. Yet Andy wore the Italian flag pajamas last evening as they were the only clean pajamas available. Sadie was tired and a bit behind on the wash. Sadie chose to wash the Italian flag pajamas immediately as Andy had requested to wear them again that evening. She did. He did.

Andy died that evening, dressed in his clean Italian flag pajamas. His bocce buddies were not allowed to attend. Covid Protocol. Sadie put the pallino and a flask of grappa in his casket.

Sadie thought “Who am I now?”

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Dr. Mari Dias is a nationally board-certified counselor, holds a Fellow in Thanatology and is certified in both grief counseling and complicated grief. Dias is a Certified death doula, and has a Certificate in Psychological Autopsy.

She is Professor of Clinical Mental Health, Master of Science program, Johnson & Wales University. Dias is the director of GracePointe Grief Center, in North Kingstown, RI.  For more information, go to:  http://gracepointegrief.com/