How to have a life after a death
Sunday, May 25, 2014
Her death is
There is no
That is deeply
I love you.
How to have a life after a death
It ain’t easy. Because your life is shattered and it’s hard to find any intact parts, like after a tornado has hit, let alone put it back together.
First is pain management; how do you treat a wound that doesn’t show or bleed? How do you explain a wound that is all consuming and never ending? How do you ask for relief when people say, ”You should be over it by now.”
Well, you scream, keen and wail regardless of what anyone says.
Some people use drugs or alcohol, which delays it for a while, but will not heal the wound.
Second is comfort; that is in short supply as few others can tolerate that level of raw emotions. Everyone gets tired of the constant grieving; including the bereaved person, yet it still goes on. Find someone that can hang in there with you and your shattered soul.
Third is that you need an advocate because you can’t defend yourself or focus on much when you are in such emotional shock.
Fourth, understand that you are not crazy or abnormal; you are simply in profound grief. When someone is so out of control it freaks others out. We try to hide grief as a culture because it irrevocably changes those who do grieve.
If you can’t grieve, you can’t heal.
As the little flower proves, life does return over and over, and so will you.
Wednesday, May 14, 2014
Odds & Ends
In the beginning
got rid of her
I remember a long period of time when I was looking for a target; someone to blame, and something to hit. I aimed my unhappiness at several places over the years—her school, the drug dealer, her father—anyone but myself. That was the flip of the guilt regarding my own responsibility. I was never able to sustain that focus because it really didn’t help, nor did I feel any better. It finally occurred to me that there would never be any restitution. Nothing could equal that loss nor make me whole again. Ultimately, it felt like an avoidance of the truth not to acknowledge that my loss was final. Blaming anyone was not going to bring her back. Another of those small choices slipped in almost unnoticed, until I realized I was less agitated, more at peace within.
As I sit here debating what else to say, I wonder if writing this is like continually picking the scab off an old wound that I won’t let heal, or if it is like resetting a bone that never healed properly. I actually don’t know what healing properly should look or feel like for a loss of this nature.
What I have found most helpful over the years are those that chose to be straight with me. It is the silence and abandonment that adds to the pain. I always thought it was a hilarious statement for people to say, “I was afraid that I might upset you.” How much more upset can a person be? The protocols for funerals and mourning are pretty thin to nonexistent. Perhaps a word or two about the importance of funerals and graves would be appropriate here. Before Sharon’s death, I remember being very critical of funerals, cemeteries, and mourners. I thought it was a lot of fuss about nothing. I guess it is, for those who have not faced a death in the family. It is not really possible to convey bereavement to the non-bereaved.
The funeral is about the final good-byes and making the loss real. It is also a place to celebrate life. Without that there is no closure, which explains why the MIA-POW movement is still active. I have found her graveside a very important place to remember, grieve, and recover.
During the viewing I spent many hours with her body—touching and caressing her, and accepting the reality. There were many that did not want me near her and her coffin; fortunately, Morrie ran interference for me to make that possible. I still don’t understand the strange reaction of people to bodies. This was my child’s body and I was not afraid of or put off by her remains. I met with several of her friends during that time and they were wonderful. I have lost track of them over the years, so a salute to those of you who hung in during that time. I was always very touched by the number and variety of mementos that were left in her casket. Little treasures they had shared during the times together in Sharon’s life.