The Second Year is the Worst

I've been told that over and over and am discovering it to be very true.  Shock has worn away and life hits you square in the face - or what's left of your life.

I try very hard to not go to this place, but as a result of a very difficult weekend, some observations and thoughts have stuck with me and in order for me to go forward in a positive fashion, it's time to purge.  Please don't any one person take offense to any of this.  For me, there have been some extreme circumstances and it is certainly not directed at any one person.  There have been enough little oddities from a lot of people for me to draw from.  And this writing is only about my getting it out of my head so I can move on in peace and harmony.  (This is where I assume a yoga pose and have some chakra alignment).

Based on just experiencing two of the hardest weekends of my life in the past year, I've learned some things.  One is that I manage far better when I am with people than when I am alone.  I have an "accountable" type personality and I can do things for others that I have a harder time doing for myself alone.  I've been told I need to work on that and I probably do, however, it is who I am, and I have learned ways to "trick" myself that also benefits others, so I kind of like the way I manage it.  I also believe that the wonderful insulation of numbness is wearing off and there are sharp corners and a lot of raw edges to grief and facing a new reality.  Therefore, comes the anger stage.  I have always been fortunate that my anger had a very clear target, and it still does.  However, I find that I am losing patience with people and their sensitivities, or lack of.

Based on the on-line forums I belong to for those who have lost children, by far, the greater percentage want their children to be remembered.  They love to talk about them daily.  It means more than bringing a covered dish for dinner (although those are good too), to have someone acknowledge your loss, your pain, your reality.  I have accumulated many, many books on grief in the past year - some I have read and some not yet.  There are recommended things to say and definitely those things NOT to say.  If I were to write my own guidelines, it would go something like this:

1. Don't ignore the fact that within three months I lost two of the people in my life I love the most.  I'm working hard to be normal for everyone who needs me to be, but the fact is that I am anything BUT normal.  I am approachable and it's worse when you treat me as if nothing ever happened.  Ask me how I am.  Most likely I'll say fine.  Occasionally I may just say it's been rough lately.  But I will SO appreciate that you acknowledge that life isn't close to what I've known it to be right now.  Even though it's been a year, it is getting harder rather than easier.
2. Don't encourage me with all the practical things that every one of those books have to say.  I've read them and I know I should meditate, exercise, eat well, go to therapy, go to church, move forward, weave daisies and work towards world peace.  I'm doing the best I can and I will get there.  Please don't insult me with advice.  I don't want or need advice.  I have a fabulous grief counselor for that.  All I need is just quiet support.  
3. What you CAN do is just send a text saying I'm thinking of you.  Invite me to go have breakfast, lunch or dinner.  Send me a message when you have come across something that you got from Adam, or reminded you of him.  Someone did that last night - sent me a screen shot of what he wrote in their yearbook in middle school.  That told me two things - she cared about me and she was remembering Adam with joy.  Fabulous gift, cost nothing.
4. Remember the others who are grieving.  Especially some of the ones who aren't front and center, but loved him just as much, like a sibling or an aunt or uncle.
5. Do something positive for veterans and let me know.  Have a mass said for Adam and Dave. Or just let me know you are praying.  With your support and God in my life, I can get through this.

Social media is a blessing and a curse during times like this.  I will have to say it's far more a blessing to me, but there is also always the other side of the coin, where people who have been very close to you never acknowledge anything on Facebook.  Just a simple "like" would be nice.  Their absence in some of this is glaring and makes you wonder.

Having spouted all this, I understand everyone is not as sensitive as I am.  I recognize that never having been in my shoes, most people are unsure of what is a good or right thing to do.  Some don't have the benefit of an upbringing that gives them the confidence to step up or say anything.  Some don't care.

I know I sound very angry.  (It's in the book, so I suppose I'm entitled to it.)  I don't want to be angry. I don't even want this to be all about me.  What I feel that I need to get across to anyone interested, is that all you have to do for someone in my shoes is to try to imagine what it would feel like for you. Then respond in a way that would be comforting to you.  Not just for me but for anyone grieving.

I probably should stop here, at least for today.  I've probably been too open and too frank, but those that truly love me will understand.  Those that don't, well, they just don't.  I realize that in this blog many of you are the ones that I couldn't manage without and who have gone above and beyond.  Just know I know who you are and love you for it.  I know it sounds like a pity party and I wanted to invite a few people along.  I should have done it on a weekend though instead of a Tuesday morning so I could have a glass of wine (whine) with it.

I think the word that best sums it up is gentle.  And that works for any situation in life.  Let's be gentle with one another.  Let's try to have eyes that see, not just what is right in front of us, but what is in another's eyes.  I will be working on all of this for Lent.  I've never been able to stay angry long, so let's pray that applies here as well.  And know that I'm not angry at anyone or anything.  I'm just flat angry.  I don't like it and don't want it, but it's here, just like an ice storm comes.  Help me not foster the icicles forming in my heart.  I need your warmth right now.  And when I thaw, I will do the same for you.  I promise.

"There are places I remember

all my life, though some have changed.

Some forever, not for better.

And some have gone, and some remain.

All these places have their moments

with lovers and friends I still can't recall.

Some are dead and some are living.

In my life I love them all."

Lennon-McCartney