the Odd Kouple

I wrote the following about a week ago, but decided to wait to post it.  To be honest, I wasn’t sure it would be a good idea.  I tried to write an honest post about what the grief is like.  After I wrote it, I thought, “if I post this people will think I’m losing it.”  So I sat on it for a while.

I kept thinking about the post and wondering if other people felt hesitant to articulate what their grief was like to friends and family.  It does seem to be a taboo subject in our world and I think that it might be even more taboo to talk about the grief when it is a child who has died.  People who are concerned about the grieving person are afraid they will make it worse by talking about it; and grieving people think they will make others uncomfortable if they confess how sad they really feel.

So, I have decided to post what I have written.  If for no other reason than to share my experience with those of you who carry your own grief.  I figure that there are a lot of people out there who have lost people that they loved very much and my hope is that what I have written below will resonate with your soul.

Please know that Daniel and I both are walking this journey the best way we know how.  Most of the time, we are dealing really well and it seems that when one of us needs a little break from reality, the other can step up and be a support.  We are so grateful for all of the loving support we have received and we know that we could not be managing as well as we are without it.

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Confession:  Grief is hard.  Anyone who has walked its road will attest to this fact.  No day is the same.  Sometimes I wake up feeling fine and other days I wake up and immediately want to go back to sleep so I don’t have to face the day.  Some days I go almost the whole day without crying, but on most days, I loose count of how many times I cry.

Grief is emotional.  I feel sad most of the time, but occasionally I will feel angry.   When I feel angry, I am frustrated because it doesn’t feel like it has anywhere to go. I’m not angry at anyone in particular, just the circumstances.  Then, I realize that I’m to tired to be angry, and it kind of dissolves away and gives way to more sadness…absolutely overwhelming and heavy sadness.

Grief is physical. More than angry, even more than sad, I feel tired.  I have been a little surprised by how incredibly exhausted I have been.  When I am able to sleep, it is a deep, deep sleep.  I am always grateful for sleep and I never feel like I get enough of it.  tired.  My body is tired and sometimes it aches because it is so tired.  Each day, I have a list of things that I want to get done and not yet have I finished everything on my list in a day.  Usually, I get one thing done and that is all I have the energy for.  Some days, I get none of it done, because it is all I can do to give Natalie the attention she needs.  She is my top priority each day.

Grief is mental.  I can be in the middle of an activity and completely forget what I was doing.  If someone asks me if a prefer this or that, I become paralyzed to answer.  Every decision, even the little ones, like what I’m going to wear or eat, feel overwhelmingly difficult to make.   Sometimes it just feels like the world is moving way to fast and that it is too loud.  Any stimulation is to much right now.  When the world feels like too much, I seem to check out because I cannot take it all in right now.

Everything about it is hard.  And most of the time, I wish it would just stop.

But I can’t.  I cannot skip it, I cannot go around it or over it or under it.  All I can do is walk through it.  Everyone says that eventually it does get easier; that one day, I will be able to dress myself without feeling overwhelmed; that one day, I will be able to make be able to decide what to feed my daughter without feeling like I am moving a mountain; that one day, I will have the energy to accomplish all the things I want to accomplish in a day; that one day, I will not walk around all day wondering what it was that I was doing; that one day, I will feel mostly like myself again.

But the ache…no one has said that one day, it won’t ache.  It seems I get to keep that part the rest of my life.  I think that one day, it will ease a little, but I now live on the after side of loosing my child.  There was this part of my life that was before we lost Aiden.  And now there is this part of my life that is after.  So much of the after is different from the before.  But, it’s not all bad.  Well, right now, most of it is really bad…most of it hurts more than I can describe.  But, I do think that there are things that will become more positive as time goes on.  The only reason I think this is because I have known other people who have lost children and they have had good things emerge out of the tragedy that it is.  I imagine that these people would give all of the good back, if they got to get their children back; I know I would.  But that is not how life works.  For now, we have to figure out how to live this life that we have been given.  We have to figure out how to move forward…or for me right now, not fall backwards.  Right now, I’ll take holding steady.  I’ll work on moving forward a little later.

So, this is grief.  It is hard and messy and frustrating and I’d rather not do it.  But here we are doing the best we can with it, and trying to find the good in it.