It’s been about six weeks, I guess, since time started ebbing and flowing carelessly at my feet.
There’s lots and lots of good people out there. There’s lots of hurting people out there, too. Lots and lots of people who want to help, and will offer whatever they can. Many even know their limitations, speak their awkwardness. Some withdraw, but at least give a reason why. Some don’t. It’s hard to make of all the offers – and even harder to take advantage of some, if any, of them.
Some of the offers come specifically from people who have had similar experiences, that is to say – losses of close people, loved ones, children, pregnancies. I hear from others who are grieving talk about how it’s so hard when someone seems to not understand, or offers advice that’s less than helpful, or even worse, they find hurtful. There seems to be very little to do to mitigate that. In the position of the grieving, I think there is a need to be consoled and offered any consolation available – however, even those who have been in similar situations don’t always offer the most consolation. Each person seems different in what they find helpful, what they’ve found helpful in the past, and how they found a way to move on.
A friend of mine text messaged me the other day, having learned what happened to me a few weeks ago for the first time, and probably 2nd or 3rd hand. She straight up admitted to not knowing the details of what happened, and asked straight up, admitting that she wasn’t sure if she should ask. I told her that I preferred people to ask instead of assume. I think this goes to just about everything right now – I prefer people asking straight questions and expecting to get a straight answer? How am I doing? I will tell you at that minute how I’m doing. What happened? I’ll let you know.
More than advice, it seems I long for a kind ear, a gentle presence, and maybe a joke or two. I need to know that the world is out there through the tragedy of what can happen to humanity. I need to be reminded, that with all the death and despair in the world, there is a reason we persist. To some extent, it’s individual, but I can only think it is because of the joy that is possible. I am NOT dead. I am hurt, I am afraid, I am deeply wounded and easily startled right now, but I’m NOT dead. I seem OK, I think, to the untrained eye. I can smile again, and laugh, and make jokes. To me, though, it’s kinda like going through the world with a really nasty sunburn. Sometimes a well-meaning friend will slap you on the back in good natured fun, forgetting you have a sunburn, and you’ll be in tremendous pain for a moment. Then sometimes your shoulders will itch uncontrollably, and you can’t do anything about it lest cause more pain. You can cover it up so it’s protected from the sun, but you can’t do anything but wait out until it heals.
One of the things that I’ve thought about is that to some extent, grief is grief, it doesn’t matter who or what you’ve lost, or when or how. Sometimes the loss of a relationship can be just as devastating as a death. I think almost anyone who is grieving has a thought of, “It would have been easier if x, y, or z was different.” On the other hand, though – not everyone experiences loss in the same way, so grief ISN’T just grief. There’s always going to be someone who thinks, “It’s not as big a deal as so-and-so is making it, I’ve dealt with something WAY worse than that, they need to buck up!” And then there’s always someone who says, “Wow, they must not have really cared as much as I would, I’d be devastated more than them!” What is it that makes us all so clumsy? What’s a person to do?
I’m just about as useless as asking specifically for what *I* need when getting through this. Pragmatically, I know that the only way out is through – it’s the getting through I’m not sure how to do sometimes. Compassion seems to be the key, but what does that even look like? Time is the other, but time is something no one has control over. This offers a space for people to try to figure out for me what I need, but I can guarantee the obvious ones are either being worked on or are counter-indicated by something else.
It’s a tough business, this grieving thing. If it wasn’t, it wouldn’t be grief.
Tags: grief