What Not To: Circumstantial Treatment

If your mom/wife/sister/daughter dies of breast cancer, most people understand if you then make it part of your routine to do Komen Race for the Cure every year. It's ok to learn more about childhood leukemia, to do ice bucket challenges for ALS, or to rally and speak out against secondhand smoke/cigarettes contribution to lung diseases.

If your sweetheart dies from suicide, everyone treats you completely different. They caution you to not think about it and push you to move away from anything related. They expect that there is nothing therapeutic that can come from making the problems of mental health or suicide a new part of the loved one's journey. Why?

It's not embarrassing; It's not cowardice; It's not any different than communicating a death by car accident or disease. My Darling had no more control over his death than someone that wrecked a motorcycle or had a stroke.

Not for a single day have I been upset at Ryan because of the way he died. And I never will. I honestly can't understand how you could be mad at someone that dies by suicide. It is agonizing to experience only short glimpses of the anguish that he must have felt in the final hours and minutes. My heart aches to know that he was tormented so intensely.

If you feel the need to ask someone how their loved one died, be prepared to offer condolences regardless of the conditions. Whether a MVC, medical condition, suicide, overdose, etc. when we lose someone important in our lives, there is a unique and horrible experience that will follow called grief.

**I miss taking care of you: laundry and trimming the scraggly hairs from the back of your neck between haircuts and making sure your deodorant and soap is always well stocked**

What No One Tells You: It Gets Worse

Oddly enough I ran across a "What would you tell your younger self about grief" post on WYG just an hour after posting. (http://www.whatsyourgrief.com/what-would-you-tell-your-younger-self/)

"Time heals all things"

"Just give it time, things will get better"

Closing in on 3 months and I can say with absolute certainty, at this point, it doesn't get better with time. I was lucky enough to float through a solid 2 weeks that were absolutely my period of shock.

Shock is great. It allowed me to get up at the service to deliver a eulogy. It's great because it let me take care of my mother-in-law who was an absolute wreck. It allowed just enough clarity to try keeping things in order and to experience things without breaking that I doubt I could now.

But it wears off. Grief gets worse. Day 1 was awful but it is far from the worsWith time you gain the ability to reflect back on the things that you experienced, to relive the event itself and to start processing what you saw and heard and what happened. And it's awful.

I know what I thought and felt at week 1, week 2, month 1... I have a morbid running count of days I haven't seen my Sweetie: 79 days today. It becomes overwhelming because I know how I feel now and I know that I have the buffer of denial still. Depression is still down the road. If there's a worse to come, how the heck do I deal with that? I had assumed in the immediate days after that maybe putting something on the schedule to "enjoy myself" in April, May, or over the summer would give me enough time. I can't believe I'm this far and at the same time so short. I can't imagine attempting to enjoy life on a vacation or adventure in the next month or the next 2, 3 or 6 months even.

Losing Ryan froze my life.

Maybe time applies to a much longer period. Or maybe those are just stupid catch phrases used by people that have never experienced loss.

It's OK

It's ok - to not eat, to skip meals, or to survive for a time on coffee and cranberry red bull.
It's not ok - to order food when you're out with others and then just push it around on the plate... just to make them feel comfortable.

It's ok - to talk about and include Ryan in conversations without missing a beat or explanation.
It's not ok - to pretend like He never existed.

It's ok - to make a comment/joke about not sleeping.
It's not ok - to keep telling people day in and day out that "I'm fine/good/etc."
I'm not.

It's ok to not be ok. The things I've seen, heard, smelt, reacted to and experienced are pretty fucking horrible. The constant reminders of dreams stolen, the insensitive comments heard, the stares and the shuns and the avoidance in the time afterward... People can't be expected to carry on like normal under that.

It's ok - to ask me thoughtful question.
It's ok - if I drone on and on or get lost in a story. You don't have to avert your eyes and change the subject.
It's ok - if I tear up a little or cry hysterically. I love him so much.
It's ok - to admit I've hurt every single day of the last 76 days.
It's ok - if I incorporate rituals to get me through the bad anniversaries.
It's ok - if I acknowledge that it's getting worse and I know it will keep getting worse, for an unknown time.

It's not ok - to keep that secret.
It's not ok - to isolate someone for their practices, rituals, or behaviors.
It's not ok - to tell someone "call anytime" or "we'll get together soon" just because you think it's the right thing to say. I don't need false promises.

It's ok to not be ok. Because regardless of whether it's your first or you fifteenth loss, the person you mourn was a distinct individual unlike any other. Your love for them, your interactions and time spent, promises made, children conceived or dreamt were all unique to the two of you. Your bond - physical or emotional, times spent in laughter or in tears, trials and times of conquering.....all of these memories point to the gift of time that you gave to someone else. It's ok if losing a future opportunity for that is devastating-----of course it is.

Ryan was my first loss. This is not an "upset for dropping ice cream" sadness. It's heart-wrenching, stomach-turning, question-your-presence-on-this-earth GRIEF. He can't be replaced. It's ok to not be ok for quite a while.

Wordless Wednesday: Little Things

It Just Hurts

It hurts. To have no one resting their chin in the nape of my neck as I drift off to sleep.
It hurts. To wake up in the morning and not see you there next to me.
It hurts. To be dodged and avoided at work or to receive, at best, pity stares.
It hurts. To listen to a story of a groom losing it at first glimpse of the bride.

Knowing I never get the chance to see you - my Every Day - do the same thing.

It hurts. To say I'm "doing ok"/"hanging in there" because "Well I haven't jumped off Pennybacker yet" is not an acceptable response.
It hurts. To be left with nothing to say - because realistically there is a set of unknown but expected actions and words externally imposed upon me.
It hurts. To check my phone and see no missed call or text - no update or brightening of my day at all.

That even 9 weeks to the day I still expect it might happen.

It hurts. To leave work every single day, reminded that routine call will never happen.
I just want to talk to you.
It hurts. Whether I eat or don't eat, my digestive system just isn't the same. Unbalanced.
It hurts. To have 2 pups - your little girl and our big guy - to care for. All by myself.
It hurts. Lying in bed staring at a wall with just my thoughts. For hours.

It just hurts. Not having you.

Zebra Amongst Horses

As an extension of what not to do/say:

A very awesome person, who my Every Day really loved, asked if I also got the stop-and-stare and go-the-long-way-around-when-they-see-you-coming recently around other people. He went through work getting sidestepped and pity stares.

It happens all the time. People's excuse for "I don't know what to say" manifests in alienating and awkward behavior. Like that's helpful... A (hopefully) comforting text I sent:

Someone told me that people who have experienced loss are like zebras in a herd of horses. The horses stand around looking at you wondering what the heck you are. Fuck the horses; if they're going to be assholes then hang out with zebras.

I added the last part myself.

What NOT to Say: It's all in (insert deity)'s plan

Two weeks ago I got a birthday card from someone I haven't seen in a while nor spoken to in just as long. You know, one of those obligatory family cards that means nothing to you but is typically thought of as a nice gesture.

This one has the standard empty "wishes for your year/day" poem and then a handwritten letter which read:

"I'm so sorry to hear about the untimely death of your friendmy fiance. The loss of someone you know and care about is seldom pleasant fucking awful. However, I am confident that your awareness of the love and grace of our precious Lord allows you to understand that "all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to His purpose." Please trust God to reveal the meaning and purpose some day! Trust God, please! May you have a blessed day! We love you"!

I made my edits on the card, sealed it up and considered putting "Return to Sender" in fat permanent marker across the front. I also made a note "If that's all you can say, you shouldn't have wasted money on the card." My grandmother, listening through snotting angry tears, convinced me not to.

I understand people don't always know the right thing to say. I was pretty sure most of the elder generation at least learned "If you don't have anything nice to say - don't say it at all." I did.

There's nothing wrong telling someone that is suffering from a loss "I don't know what to say". In fact, most days, I don't know what to say either. If you're absolutely compelled, perhaps an "I'm thinking about you" is clean and easy. Justifications, even most offers of consolation may be received very differently. Grief is very personal, and very different for everyone affected. And religious offers, even if you think it would help... well, it's not about you.

It's been 48 days. I'm pretty proud of myself if I shower more than once/week.

Additionally - if you "know" the person grieving (I use that term loosely) but in particular had not met the person lost, perhaps you're not in the best place to provide personal enlightenment.