I guess I'm writing because I wish someone would have told me what grief is like. I have struggled with depression in the past but this is different. I suppose I wish my mother or father wrote down their thoughts at the loss of their parents so I could have a reference. It is not that I've never known grief, or perhaps maybe I haven't and that is why this seems like uncharted territory.
Timeline: My father's body was found Monday, I was told Tuesday, his memorial was Sunday.
Tuesday passed with scheduled events. I took you and your brothers for annual exams and then a meeting with the bank, lunch, piano lessons and appointments. Life continued. I felt numb. Sad, of course, but without tears I expected. I even told the worker that came to measure my windows for blinds. I was on the phone when I answered the door and felt like I needed to explain.
I would say that grief at that point was muted by disbelief. It did not feel real.
That night I contemplated his final hours and the aftermath. There was no sleep. So I listened to an audio book to distracted me. The next day, I was physically tired but not exhausted, I went to work and completed more appointments. School started for the year for you. And I cried as you left for school. I genuinely cried that you were a year older.
At this point I would relate to grief as a bucket of emotion. When life is going well and tragedy strikes, the bucket fills but doesn't overflow. You can move forward and hold your emotion. But then there's no room for life. Small things that normally would not have you in tears reduces you to a puddle. My kids started school, some one did something thoughtless, I was overlooked in an invite, and now I'm crying. Not specifically for my dad or for the grief of his passing, but for those insignificant things. Not that those things would break me, there's just no room for them. And yet at this point I still felt like its not real.
I talked more with my brother, about what arrangements needed to be made, we discussed possible dates for funeral/memorial and dad's last wishes. It felt like work, a task at hand. But now with more than a day to think about it, it felt like hard work. Heavy, like test anxiety. This is when I noticed I did not want to talk to anyone. Especially about grief. Head down finish the task.
Wednesday night, I noticed I did not have any pictures up of my Father. We just moved to our new house in October. Although pictures were out, none were of him. So I went looking. Looking specifically for one we could use at the memorial. I searched boxes in the attic and closets for pictures. I was on a mission... still on task.
Thursday, I called my uncle and we solidified the date and time of the memorial. My father wished to be cremated so a memorial would take place instead of a funeral. A memorial in a home instead of a church or funeral home. No viewing.
This was different then I remember. When my grandmother died, there was a viewing at a funeral home, then church service, then a graveside service, then a luncheon at someone's home. This was different as it seemed liked we skipped to end with the luncheon at a home. I wonder if dad would have wanted it that way?
On Thursday, I made it FaceBook official and posted the date and time of his memorial. At this point, my emotional cup is completely full and there is no room for everyday living. I feel tired and hungry but I can't sleep and food is unappealing. Then I decided to tell my children before some well-meaning person broke the news before I did.
I said all the things I believe and believed at that moment. My dad closed his eyes to sleep and then opened them in heaven. We will see him again. He is pain free and happy. You cried immediately. I had not yet cried, or even comprehended grief. Then you went home and wrote him a love letter of goodbye.
The following day we traveled to DFW. Still tasks at hand: greet family, plan service, organize pictures, recall life history. Saturday we spent the day with your cousins. It was an all day playdate and good for me to see his eight grandchildren play together. That night the children went to the movies and the parents went to dinner. Still with a task to plan a memorial service.
Sunday: travel, church, travel, lunch, travel, memorial. Dig, push, dig, repeat.
We left the memorial not long after its completion. School and work awaited us on Monday morning after a 5.5 hour drive. Hugs, pictures, load the chidden, the car is running and we're off.
And then came my first major wave of grief. The task was over. I had no idea what was coming. I believed everything that was spoken. There is no forever death...we will meet again. That did not stop this pain and I sobbed. You watched a movie in the back of the mini van and I cried off and on for the entire drive home.
Monday arrived and it was the first thing to come to mind. Loss. Like a wet blanket I carried it all day. I went to work. Cried when someone said they were sorry. I no longer had a task...it was done and I think that's what broke my heart. Every memory and mention had a physical pain that caused tears.
Tuesday I made deliveries and hoped no one would ask. I needed a new task to distract. I parked next to a hearing aid store. That alone brought another wave of grief. My dad often lost his hearing aids and now he doesn't need them.
Fragile. Grief makes you feel fragile. The opposite of what I strive to be everyday.
Without going into our complicated relationship, what broke my heart the most and added to this loss is the stories of how proud he was of his children and grandchildren. The stories of him going on and on about us. I did not know. I did not know he was proud.
Grief comes at seemingly random times. I'm at work, in the quiet of the basement and I recall the last time I talked to dad at work. Then I remember I will never talk to him on the phone again. And I recall that he was/is proud of me and I cry. Grief is like ocean waves. Some smaller some bigger depending on what triggers them. Some I can stand, and some I get washed away and cry in the basement at work.
Currently, what bring me to tears is the newess. My dad was alive (x time) ago. I had oppounity to talk to him and its gone now. I wonder how long that will last?
Advice if you know someone in a season of grief:
- Don't ask, "how are you?" That is such a loaded question. No we are not well, or fine. The normal answers, but it is hard to answer honestly, nor do we want to answer honestly. Say, "I'm so sorry", or "I'm thinking of you, hope you are well" That takes the pressure off to answer or respond.
- Don't say, "If you need anything, let me know" I will never reach out. In my own grief which includes self doubt and low self-esteem, I will not have the strength to reach out. Just come. My best friend and my neighbor just told me they were bringing over food. It was nice. I did not ask, but I so appreciated the meal. I felt loved.
- If you happen to be with someone when a wave of grief hits them, you don't need to say or do anything. Just be. I personally don't like to be hugged, but my husband held my hand and that was all that was needed as I cried.
Dearest child, death is inevitable. This is my first heavy bout it. And I assume, like everything else, everyone is different. I hope you navigate well. I hope this helps you in your season.
Writing and running helps me.
I wish I could run right now. But I can't so I cope.
Love,
Mom
