Today was a hard day. It was the day I'd been dreading since I came back. The day of a co-worker's baby shower. I skipped it. I couldn't make myself go and listen to the planning and excitement and anticipation that I experienced at my own shower a few months ago. Before my entire world turned inside out.
I told Jeff I wasn't going, and he looked a little...something. He was very careful and said, "I just think you need to get back to doing things again." I was initially hurt and angry, but then I realized that he was trying to help me. We grieve very differently, men and women. My limited experience has taught me that men tend to be more logical, and we women are all about emotion. Jeff has admitted that he's in a better place than me. He didn't have the physical connection to Emma that I did, and that definitely plays a role in how we grieve. He is able to look forward to the next chapter and is able to reconcile what has transpired. I am apprehensively optimistic about the future, but I'm still so angry and bitter about losing my daughter.
And this is the most unfair thing about grief. As humans, we are such social animals. We long to share everything with someone else (far too much, in some cases - social media is a blessing and a curse. Just ask Amanda Bynes). Grief is the one thing we cannot share with another. It is the loneliest road we walk, and at a time when we need and yearn for someone else, we often have no one else who feels the same way. We have to forge our own way, clear our own path.
As I make my way along this winding and seemingly endless road, I have found myself changed. I know that when (if?) I make it to the end of this road, I will not be the same person I was a few months ago. I've seen and felt and know too much now. I know that there will always be one chair too many at my dinner table, one gaping hole in family pictures. My house will always be a little too quiet. These are the things I'm learning as I travel this road. What have you learned on your own journey?
Kim, I know my road has been nothing compared to yours. I still see the empty seat at my table everyday. I see the empty place at every holiday. However, I have the memories of these empty chairs that I can always hold on to.
ReplyDeleteI will always be here to listen and comfort you. I can't make this better and that is the hardest part for me. I am here day or night for you. Just let me know.
Thank you, mama. You do help me and make me feel better, every single day!
ReplyDeleteKim, I know I am very late on commenting, but I love your honesty and the raw images you can ebbed into people's minds with your amazing words. I am not nearly as eloquent with words as you are, nevertheless reading your thoughts fills me with maternal emotion I did not know I had (my cat does not count). No one should go through the hurt and pain you, Jeff and the rest of your family are feeling. You are correct that social media can be a curse and a blessing and I can only encourage you to continue talking. A therapist is a great outlet. They force topics out of you that were buried away and they make you think about aspects that might not have been as prevalent initially. The best part is you can leave the therapy session as angry as you want and you don't owe the therapist a reason for why. I have a great therapist I visit regularly and she is a completely unbiased party that provokes my thoughts. Yes, sometimes I leave the session and I am so angry with stirred up emotions that I go looking for a fight. On the other hand, the majority of times I leave the session feeling some of the weight on my shoulders has been lifted. If you meet with a therapist and you don't feel a connection with them. Don't give up and just try another. I can't even come close to saying, "I understand this is a rough time for you", but I can say I will always listen and sometimes that's all you need. You are very loved.
ReplyDeleteKS