It seems no one ever talks about grief or grieving. I mean, I understand why it isn't a common blog post; it isn’t the happiest of topics, and I know people are often uncomfortable around or unsure of what to say to someone that loses a loved one. Take me for example, one of my friend’s dads passed away recently, and as I sat in front of this computer trying to figure out what to email her, I was at a loss of words. You would think that I, having just lost my mother, would be able to send some words of comfort having just gone through a similar experience. But, I think it made it harder. I knew there was nothing I could say to take away the hurt or sadness she may be feeling, there are no words that can do that for someone in that position. All you can say is you’re sorry, you love them, you’re thinking of them, and praying for them.
I’m not really sure why I am writing about this on my blog, a place that is supposed to be a cheerful, little happy place. Maybe we’ll just consider this one of my public service announcements. There is no humor in this topic, even though some people may choose to deal with their grief using humor, but this post will not be very humorous.
Websters says grief is intense emotional suffering caused by loss, disaster, misfortune, etc. Obviously, grief can be caused by something other than losing a loved one. I definitely experienced intense emotional suffering after a long relationship with my ex boyfriend/fiancé ended. In fact, the same Sunday afternoon I found out that he was getting married, my dad told me that my mom had cancer. Talk about a one-two punch.
Other than going through that breakup, I had never really experienced any other kind of major loss, or major enough to call it grieving. I have been to A LOT of funerals in my life, and sure, some were sad, but I never felt any real grief. Due to my plethora of Psychology and Human Development classes in college I was well aware of Elizabeth Kubler-Ross’s stages of grief, but I had no idea what “grieving” actually was or just how multifaceted it really is.
When my mom died I grieved, in all essence of the word, but not just for myself.
I grieved for my mom.
I grieved for my dad.
I grieved for my siblings.
I grieved for my children.
I grieved for my husband and my in-laws.
I grieved for my nieces and nephews.
I grieved for my grandparents.
I grieved for my mother’s family.
I grieved for my father’s family.
I grieved for my mother’s friends.
I grieved for myself some more.
I guess before my mom died I was so caught up with feeling sorry for myself, and sorry for her, and my family, I hadn’t even thought about other people that would grieve from losing her. As her death grew near, I started noticing that I wasn’t just grieving for myself anymore. My heart ached as I saw the eyes of family friends well up as they visited her in the hospital, or the day when John told her, “see you later”, and we both knew it would most likely be the last time he would say that to her. I think, that just then I realized my husband was sad too, and my heart hurt for him too. I started grieving for everyone else too, and it was a new kind of emotion for me.
I then realized that grief brings out another emotion, love. When you watch someone grieve for someone you love, it makes you love that person more. Does that make sense? Seeing my mother’s friends grieve at their loss made me realize it wasn’t just my loss - everyone she loved lost.
In my religion when we are baptized we make certain promises or covenants, and one of those is to mourn with those that mourn. For some reason it seems like when someone you love dies you have the plague (especially for the spouse I think). Some people are so afraid of not knowing what to say, they avoid you, not intending to make you an outcast, but it seems to happen sometimes. Isn’t that sad that as humans we are afraid of reaching out to another human at least to say we are sorry, or to help ease their loneliness? Especially if we have made promises that we will do so, to mourn with those that mourn, to help make their burdens light. I know it’s hard to figure out what to say to someone who has just lost someone they loved, I told you I was in that same place just a few weeks ago, I know.
I do know what NOT to say. I couldn’t tell my friend I knew how she felt, because I didn’t. I can relate to some feelings she may be feeling, but I can’t tell her I know how she feels. My relationship with my mom would be different than her relationship with her dad, and so on. When I would have to tell someone that my mom had just passed away and they didn’t know her, they would say they were sorry and I would literally want to scream at the top of my lungs, “YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT IS BEING TAKEN AWAY FROM ME RIGHT NOW! AWAY FROM THE WORLD! YOU HAVE NO IDEA!” Seriously. Obviously, they would have no idea that is how I felt. Please, don’t tell someone you know how he or she feels. I understand that people have good intentions, but no one knows how another person feels. As to my friend, I know it stinks losing a parent, and that she will feel horrible, I can relate to how she may be feeling, but I don’t KNOW how she feels.
After I returned from my mother’s funeral, someone (with good intentions, I know) told me they knew how I felt because they were headed to see their mom who was dying. I couldn’t respond to that person. They had no idea how I was feeling. I understand losing your mother at any age is not easy, but they were going to say goodbye to their mother who was quite old who had lived to see some of her great grandchildren born. They had no idea how I felt about losing my mother who died so young not able to even see all of her grandchildren born. Don’t tell me you know how I feel.
Also, that same day someone came up to me (with good intentions again, I know) and said, “don’t you just feel… peace.” I honestly was a little stunned. I know what they meant, but I was a little hurt at the same time. No! I didn’t feel peace. I believe that families are forever, and know that I will see my mom again, and that made it easier, but I didn’t feel peace, not then anyway. I’m sorry, but watching your mom’s shrinking body basically helpless in a hospital bed, and having to watch her in pain for so long before does not equal peace. Losing your mom when you are 28 years old is not a peaceful experience. Watching those you love, grieve, is not a peaceful experience either. No, I did not feel peace. (I will, however, add that my mom’s hospital room those last two weeks was a peaceful place, there was a very peaceful feeling there, almost holy…) But, I wasn’t at peace with losing her, not yet, and for someone to come up to me and say that felt insensitive, even though I know she meant well. We should try to be sensitive to how they may be feeling (Like when I had a miscarriage in between Trevan and Mallary and someone called and said they were sorry and in the next breath said, “exciting news, so and so had their baby today.” I know they didn’t mean to be insensitive…) Goodness knows I have probably stuck my foot in my mouth so many times, but we really should make a conscious effort to be more sensitive.
What do we say? What do we do? We say we are sorry, we show we are sorry and that we love them. Don’t ask if there is anything you can do in those situations, just DO something, just SAY something (I’m sorry, I love you, I’ve been thinking about you, I’m praying for you). Honestly, my neighbors don’t think it is a big deal, but when I came home a few days after my mom’s funeral and found him mowing our yard, that really meant a lot to me. They didn’t wait to ask if there was anything they could do, they just did something to show us they were thinking about us, and wanted to help.
Grieving… there’s a whole range of feelings. Anger, hurt, the sadness… it lessens, eases up with time, but it also takes on new shapes. “Grief” could come at the thought of your father remarrying (call me selfish) and your family having to adjust to yet another major change (this isn’t an announcement, just a natural worry of a child that loses a parent, or to this child that lost a parent). Or, like yesterday, I woke up, fed the kids, blogged, put Mallary down for a nap, made cookies, and thought, “Here’s a quiet moment, I should call my mom...” You get back into the swing of things, and then a thought like that forces you to pause and catch your breath. It’s been over a year, but those moments still occur, and I’m sure will for a long time.
I don’t write this post for sympathy. I am good. Seriously. This is not a cry for help, but maybe a cry of awareness. Grief isn’t really talked about and I didn’t really understand it until I went through it. But, don’t be afraid to say something to someone you know that’s lost someone. We all grieve differently but it is important that we don’t let each other grieve alone.
I’m not really sure why I am writing about this on my blog, a place that is supposed to be a cheerful, little happy place. Maybe we’ll just consider this one of my public service announcements. There is no humor in this topic, even though some people may choose to deal with their grief using humor, but this post will not be very humorous.
Websters says grief is intense emotional suffering caused by loss, disaster, misfortune, etc. Obviously, grief can be caused by something other than losing a loved one. I definitely experienced intense emotional suffering after a long relationship with my ex boyfriend/fiancé ended. In fact, the same Sunday afternoon I found out that he was getting married, my dad told me that my mom had cancer. Talk about a one-two punch.
Other than going through that breakup, I had never really experienced any other kind of major loss, or major enough to call it grieving. I have been to A LOT of funerals in my life, and sure, some were sad, but I never felt any real grief. Due to my plethora of Psychology and Human Development classes in college I was well aware of Elizabeth Kubler-Ross’s stages of grief, but I had no idea what “grieving” actually was or just how multifaceted it really is.
When my mom died I grieved, in all essence of the word, but not just for myself.
I grieved for my mom.
I grieved for my dad.
I grieved for my siblings.
I grieved for my children.
I grieved for my husband and my in-laws.
I grieved for my nieces and nephews.
I grieved for my grandparents.
I grieved for my mother’s family.
I grieved for my father’s family.
I grieved for my mother’s friends.
I grieved for myself some more.
I guess before my mom died I was so caught up with feeling sorry for myself, and sorry for her, and my family, I hadn’t even thought about other people that would grieve from losing her. As her death grew near, I started noticing that I wasn’t just grieving for myself anymore. My heart ached as I saw the eyes of family friends well up as they visited her in the hospital, or the day when John told her, “see you later”, and we both knew it would most likely be the last time he would say that to her. I think, that just then I realized my husband was sad too, and my heart hurt for him too. I started grieving for everyone else too, and it was a new kind of emotion for me.
I then realized that grief brings out another emotion, love. When you watch someone grieve for someone you love, it makes you love that person more. Does that make sense? Seeing my mother’s friends grieve at their loss made me realize it wasn’t just my loss - everyone she loved lost.
In my religion when we are baptized we make certain promises or covenants, and one of those is to mourn with those that mourn. For some reason it seems like when someone you love dies you have the plague (especially for the spouse I think). Some people are so afraid of not knowing what to say, they avoid you, not intending to make you an outcast, but it seems to happen sometimes. Isn’t that sad that as humans we are afraid of reaching out to another human at least to say we are sorry, or to help ease their loneliness? Especially if we have made promises that we will do so, to mourn with those that mourn, to help make their burdens light. I know it’s hard to figure out what to say to someone who has just lost someone they loved, I told you I was in that same place just a few weeks ago, I know.
I do know what NOT to say. I couldn’t tell my friend I knew how she felt, because I didn’t. I can relate to some feelings she may be feeling, but I can’t tell her I know how she feels. My relationship with my mom would be different than her relationship with her dad, and so on. When I would have to tell someone that my mom had just passed away and they didn’t know her, they would say they were sorry and I would literally want to scream at the top of my lungs, “YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT IS BEING TAKEN AWAY FROM ME RIGHT NOW! AWAY FROM THE WORLD! YOU HAVE NO IDEA!” Seriously. Obviously, they would have no idea that is how I felt. Please, don’t tell someone you know how he or she feels. I understand that people have good intentions, but no one knows how another person feels. As to my friend, I know it stinks losing a parent, and that she will feel horrible, I can relate to how she may be feeling, but I don’t KNOW how she feels.
After I returned from my mother’s funeral, someone (with good intentions, I know) told me they knew how I felt because they were headed to see their mom who was dying. I couldn’t respond to that person. They had no idea how I was feeling. I understand losing your mother at any age is not easy, but they were going to say goodbye to their mother who was quite old who had lived to see some of her great grandchildren born. They had no idea how I felt about losing my mother who died so young not able to even see all of her grandchildren born. Don’t tell me you know how I feel.
Also, that same day someone came up to me (with good intentions again, I know) and said, “don’t you just feel… peace.” I honestly was a little stunned. I know what they meant, but I was a little hurt at the same time. No! I didn’t feel peace. I believe that families are forever, and know that I will see my mom again, and that made it easier, but I didn’t feel peace, not then anyway. I’m sorry, but watching your mom’s shrinking body basically helpless in a hospital bed, and having to watch her in pain for so long before does not equal peace. Losing your mom when you are 28 years old is not a peaceful experience. Watching those you love, grieve, is not a peaceful experience either. No, I did not feel peace. (I will, however, add that my mom’s hospital room those last two weeks was a peaceful place, there was a very peaceful feeling there, almost holy…) But, I wasn’t at peace with losing her, not yet, and for someone to come up to me and say that felt insensitive, even though I know she meant well. We should try to be sensitive to how they may be feeling (Like when I had a miscarriage in between Trevan and Mallary and someone called and said they were sorry and in the next breath said, “exciting news, so and so had their baby today.” I know they didn’t mean to be insensitive…) Goodness knows I have probably stuck my foot in my mouth so many times, but we really should make a conscious effort to be more sensitive.
What do we say? What do we do? We say we are sorry, we show we are sorry and that we love them. Don’t ask if there is anything you can do in those situations, just DO something, just SAY something (I’m sorry, I love you, I’ve been thinking about you, I’m praying for you). Honestly, my neighbors don’t think it is a big deal, but when I came home a few days after my mom’s funeral and found him mowing our yard, that really meant a lot to me. They didn’t wait to ask if there was anything they could do, they just did something to show us they were thinking about us, and wanted to help.
Grieving… there’s a whole range of feelings. Anger, hurt, the sadness… it lessens, eases up with time, but it also takes on new shapes. “Grief” could come at the thought of your father remarrying (call me selfish) and your family having to adjust to yet another major change (this isn’t an announcement, just a natural worry of a child that loses a parent, or to this child that lost a parent). Or, like yesterday, I woke up, fed the kids, blogged, put Mallary down for a nap, made cookies, and thought, “Here’s a quiet moment, I should call my mom...” You get back into the swing of things, and then a thought like that forces you to pause and catch your breath. It’s been over a year, but those moments still occur, and I’m sure will for a long time.
I don’t write this post for sympathy. I am good. Seriously. This is not a cry for help, but maybe a cry of awareness. Grief isn’t really talked about and I didn’t really understand it until I went through it. But, don’t be afraid to say something to someone you know that’s lost someone. We all grieve differently but it is important that we don’t let each other grieve alone.
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