Although years have passed since my husband’s death, I recently remembered the pain of that loss.
My car was in the shop with a new engine installed. My brother had lent me his truck. While applying for a temporary military vehicle pass, my set of keys seemed to disappear off the face of the earth. Panic set in!
Do not laugh! My life was wrapped up in those keys. I had always prided myself on being very cautious about grabbing them every time I got in or out of the car, home, or office. They stayed in my hands until I inserted them into a ignition or keyhole and then they went into my bag and stayed until the next use. There were keys for my car, my brother’s truck, the front door, the included lock, the back door, and a few other keys of necessity.
No one in the Pass and Identification office had seen them. I relentlessly retraced my steps from the truck to the office 2-3 times, looking under the truck, and asked back at the office, to the four military workers there. After being told “No, no one had handed over the keys”, I asked to use the phone to call the military police, so they could unlock the truck.
“Maybe the keys had fallen under the seat or behind it,” I thought. Enduring the shame of 2 police cars parked in the vicinity of the “crime scene” and onlookers looking at me suspiciously; I started to feel guilty; of what, I don’t know; Stupid, I guess.
Since the first two officers couldn’t open the door, they called for “reinforcements”, now there were 3 police cars. The first joked that the third officer could opening the door because he had been a reformed car thief from Florida and knew all about opening car doors, then he laughed.
The third officer managed to open the truck door. I thanked them profusely when they left and started looking for the keys. I searched for the ups and downs, but still no keys. Now what?
I felt so onlyso abandonedand then helpless. My brother had another set of keys, but Yo he had his truck. He couldn’t help me. I retraced my steps once more, taking the time to survey the grounds surrounding my path to the Pass and ID office. Unlucky.
Since I had nowhere to go and no transportation to get there, I decided to leave a notice at the Information Desk, the ID Checker at the front door, and the Helper’s Office. A glance at my watch said that 2 hours had passed in my search.
I found a seat in a phone booth across from the prescription waiting area, after leaving a notice there. Only then did I feel that she would do the feminine and cry. Poor me, I was alone and with no one to solve my problem, no one to make me feel safe again. Who would solve my problem? The familiar feelings of the need to throw up churned me up inside. Common sense and a sense of pride told me that I must close that escape route, RIGHT NOW! So as not to embarrass me anymore. After a few moments of surrendering to my helplessness, I asked God to help me focus so that I could make a sensible decision.
“Dave, I’ll call my boy, Dave! The thought seemed to echo in my mind. He quickly brought me my brother’s keys and my immediate problem was solved. No found keys, but could drive the truck.
The point of this story is not to make too much of my lost keys, but rather to show that the experience of losing something of value and trying to get it back is a PROCESS.
I am not trying to minimize the loss of a loved one through separation; divorce or death, with the same importance as losing the car keys, aim tea process Going from point A to point B is more or less the same.
- The initial response to loss is DENIALshock, disbelief, “It can’t be! I know this isn’t happening!”
- Then one goes to ANGER: “Why me, what did I do wrong to deserve this?” “I’m always careful with my keys!” “Someone stole my keys in that office!”
- then comes NEGOTIATION: “Yes, but… maybe if I do this or that, my problem will disappear, my life will be the same as before.” But it was not like that, nothing worked.
- In the phone booth, I was DEPRESSION, sick feelings in the pit of my stomach. I wanted to give in to helplessness and leave whatever, take control of me
- That last bastion of self-preservation took over. ACCEPTANCE of the situation and then the solution chamber.
- Tea PROCESS it had to be experienced, completed, accepted. Then peace seemed in the distance, but you could see it. The ultimate goal of experiencing the PROCESS is that it is an absolute, inescapable, even unpleasant necessity, if we want to find peace, be it the loss of a husband, a lover, a friend or the keys themselves.
… I still miss my keys!