On grief…wherein she wails and sniffs
Posted under People I love
News just in…stop press…stop all the clocks…hold the front page…those well-meaning people who say ‘time heals’ to those who are grieving, probably uttered in that slightly whiney, knowitall voice, head cocked to one side, perhaps nodding a bit for emphasis (“Believe me! I’m right, I’m nodding my head and using my special whiney voice, thus I know everything…”time heals”). Well, ya suckers, time does NOT heal grief. It ‘might’ heal preteen broken hearts and the devastating disappointment of not being made headgirl…but time does NOT heal grief. Can I just repeat that for those at the back of the class, not really paying attention, just doodling on their desks or taking photos of the back of their hair with their mobiles to see if it looks OK (as a feisty girl taught by my cousin does..eeek)….TIME DOES NOT HEAL GRIEF.
You never, ever ‘get over’ someone dying. You don’t ‘move on’ or ‘draw a line under it’ or ‘get on with the rest of your life’. Really, you don’t. And any kind of suggestion that you can, or should, is as insulting to the person who died as it is to the person in front of you, paralysed by grief. They might ‘look’ like they are coping, they’re OK, they’re putting a brave face on it and all those other things we say to make ourselves feel better about their situation. But they’re not OK, not even a little bit…they might be going through the motions of everyday life, to the extent that everyone stands back and admires their spirit and their courage. But inside they are screaming ,’WHY ARE YOU ALL ACTING SO NORMAL? WHY ARE YOU SHOPPING/WORKING/WATCHING TV/JOKING ABOUT SHIT WHEN THE WHOLE WORLD HAS BEEN TURNED UPSIDE DOWN. CAN’T…YOU….SEE?’. But they don’t scream those things, they rarely even say them…they just carry on as best they can because, after all, what else can you do?
“Oh you’re coping SO well!”, is what I heard so often in the weeks after my mother died 10 years ago. This was puzzling…what else did they want me to do? Lie down on the floor and die? What choice do you have when unwanted, unexpected grief comes along and smacks you in the face? You have two choices: you suck it up and carry on or you keel over and let it consume you.
Time doesn’t heel, ever. All it does is give you some space to get used to the idea of a world without the person you loved…but your world is never, ever the same. I miss my mother every single day of my life; on the special days…my wedding day, the birth of my two wonderful boys, their birthdays, my birthday, her birthday, Christmas….all those markers of life. But I miss her on the ordinary days, when nothing much special happens…when I see something, read something, feel something that I need her to know. A little known fact of death is that you can have a relationship with someone even after they have died, I know how odd that sounds by the way. But if I want to tell my Mum something, I just go ahead and tell her…and I always know what she would say, or how she would laugh. Or have another fag and a coffee xxx Are they drip feeding you caffeine and nicotine up there in heaven Mum? Hope so xxx
The downside of this is that my mother is always ‘there’ wittering in my ear, always telling me what the right thing to do is, what she would expect of me. Ideally I’d like to ignore this on the occasions that it doesn’t suit me, but she’s irritatingly persistent. In the midst of life we are in nagging, and all that.
Ten years on, I’m ‘on top’ of my grief. I’m not over it, but I’m on top of it, or so I like to think. And then something happens and it hits you between the eyes…no warning… no mercy. And, believe me, it’s every bit as painful, bitter and shocking as it was right at the start.
Today I was driving home having dropped my boys at nursery, focused on the busy work day ahead….anxious to get home for a conference call. The radio was on, just buzzing in the background and the BANG…right there, with two chords…I was drowning in my grief all over again. They played one of my mother’s favourite songs…it won’t mean much to most people but it’s like a knife through the heart to me. In seconds I was dripping with tears and had to pull over…ten years, and yet a couple of chords can defeat me like that. I can’t think that it will ever change and to be honest I hope it never will. I never want there to be a day when my mother’s death means nothing to me, because her life meant absolutely everything to me.
So, just take it from me, when someone dies…you never, ever get over it.
xxx
PS for the people who need to know what the song was…it’s pasted below, ‘When you were sweet sixteen’. She met my Dad when she was 14 and adored him from that day on, she never ever stopped loving him. I think this song kind of encapsulated it for her. Sobbing again just listening to it on Youtube…I am SUCH a sap!
Oh Spud, you make my heart break. Just know that you aren’t alone in feeling like that. I like what you said about being ‘on top of (your) grief’. That’s perfect. And speaking as someone who lost her dad I can totally relate, but I can also totally relate to that lost love that got away. He still breaks my heart everytime I think about him — even tho I’m very much in love and extremely happy with my husband — and it’s been 20 years since I’ve seen him. Oh my. Lots to think about in this post…
PS- my dad’s favorite song was Sinatra’s It was a Very Good Year, and I get a lump in my throat whenever I hear it…
big hugs xoxo
I’m so sorry for your loss. The thought that my mother will one day die makes me cry. I start thinking about the fact that it will someday happen and I’m in tears. I can’t even begin to imagine how much it will hurt when that actually comes to pass.
This last 4th of July the family was all gathered together celebrating and my mother mentioned to no one in particular that “today would have been Dad’s 100th birthday”. She looked sad and I knew that today, 16 years later, it’s still there. I also like to think that wherever he is, he’s happy to know that we remember him.
Sweetheart, I really feel for you. I also despise those trite throw-away lines that people say in an attempt to be helpful. I don’t think you can ever underestimate pain and grief.
I’m having a (totally different) personal ‘situation’ at the moment and have found myself gritting my teeth when people say things like,’your time will come’. What the hell does that mean? My time has come!
Take care. xx
For me, these moments come at church when we sing my father’s favorite hymn “The Church’s One Foundation” It’s nuts, I just start to sob, snot appears, mascara runs, and there is never of damn tissue anywhere near me. I just thank God I am in church and people have to be nice to me.
Getting over grief somehow means we got over the person being gone and I don’t ever think we do. What helps me is to know that my father is so much a part of me – he’s my humor, he’s my spirit, he’s the reason I am who I am. I just hold on to that I hope like hell I am doing my best to honor him.
In the end, remember that you are part of her and she lives on in you – and from what I see, you honor her is a lovely way! !
X.
Oh, you random person on the internet whom I’ve never met, I love you. And I love this post. I absolutely, totally, 100% understand what you mean. I know you read my post about my dad. I can so relate to continuing the relationship after death. I’ve actually managed to get mad at my dad for things I was never mad at him for when he was alive. And I told him off. And he understood. (If you’re crazy, I’m crazy too! Hooray! ;) )
I’ve been working on a post about death for awhile now. It’s a little different take than this beautiful post of yours, but you’ve inspired me to finish it. Tiem does not heal, but maybe you find more people over time who know where you’re coming from.
If I didn’t say it clearly enough already, your post was absolutely beautiful.
I so, so, so understand! thank you SO much for sharing this. And i’m going to go write a post right now that i’ve been thinking about for a long time. a friend told me months ago that i should write about it, but i never have. xoxoxo
Oh, Spud.
You write what I live, and you do it so beautifully and accurately. My mom died when I was 5, and I’ve heard all sorts of those same comments throughout my life. Those people do mean well, but how can they possibly understand unless they have experienced it?
I honor her in some way each year on the day she died and on her birthday. But, like you, I find that the times it really turns me into a blubbering, sniffling puddle are the seemingly random, completely unexpected moments that don’t make sense to anyone but me. I have had to walk out in the middle of parties or classes or try to bury my head in my jacket on the bus home from work because I am such a mess that strangers around me become alarmed.
Obviously none of this will make anyone feel any better about losing someone they love. I just wanted to add my bit and say thank you for writing these feelings so well. It feels a little less lonely to “meet” someone who understands what it’s like. I don’t know whether one little comment can return the favor, but I hope so.
xo
I can’t explain how much I can relate to this. It doesn’t get easier – it just gets different. In some ways the differences make it harder – you think ‘it’s X years since I saw her…’ and the distance gets bigger.
Hugs to you xx
I can’t imagine, I don’t want to imagine, what it’s like to lose a parent. I’m so sorry that you, that anyone, has to go through this kind of grief. From reading about your relationship with your mum, it sounds like you were very close.
Oh, you sweet, sweet sap. This post has made me love you more. Your love for your mother is so beautiful. You said that her life meant absolutely everything to you. If you’ll forgive me presumption, I feel certain she would say the same of you. How blessed you are to have such a relationship with your Mum. I say “have” because that relationship hasn’t stopped. It won’t ever. And thank God for that.
I spent this evening with my mom since she and Dad will be gone for two weeks. Your post makes me want to drive over there in the middle of the night and hug her again. While I’m at it, I’d like to fly across half a continent and an ocean and hug you too. I’ll hold on till you let go – I promise.
You write with such emotion yet so eloquently. Your Mum is obviously still a special person in your life and whilst I can’t even begin to understand how hard and painful it is to live with, I love the fact she’s with you, and watching over you every day x
Yes, I totally agree. On Sunday, I was in church, and 3 bars of a hymn made my eyes start leaking all over the place. It was a reflex reaction. Before I could figure out I was crying – I was.
On the days where I am not as close to my Dad, I kick myself for forgetting him. Someone is only truly gone when they are forgotten, in my book. If I forget him it’s like I’m letting him die all over again.
And I truly, totally concur with the relationship after death thing too. It’s only since he died that I can speak an entire sentence without being interrupted, told I’m wrong, belittled, lectured, and ignored. He can’t get a word in edgeways now! I can still here him trying to interrupt me, but he’s much easier to ignore.
He was a daft old fool, a pain in the bum and a genius (really, he had an IQ of over 180), and I love him. Being a total Daddy’s girl only serves to make the pain greater.
Big hugs to you, Spud. I’m going to spend all day telling The Ikey all about my Dad, and make today a Not Forgetting Day. x
I nodded my way along with all of that. This year I turned the age my brother was when he died, and from now on I will look in the mirror and wonder what he would have looked like now. I will age but he never will.
I heart you lots lady!
I found my way here via Hazel’s twitter update – and join her in her weeping. Like so many others I can totally relate to your words. I remember being told by a friend after my Dad died that I would never be the same person again, that I wouldn’t ‘get over it’ but I would get used to it. His were wise words, as are yours.
Thank you to everyone for sharing their memories, and stories…I’m just passing the tissues round now and will pop the kettle on. Something stronger perhaps? Is it too early for a wee snifter of something to sustain us? No I don’t think so either ;-)
A hug from me to all of you x
I haven’t lost a parent yet but I have lost someone very very dear to me. She died in November last year and it still really hurts. I don’t think I realied how much until I read your post as I haven’t been thinking about it much, avoiding the issue as it were. You’re very good with words spud and I will be adapting my thinking about this now x
In times like these I wish my English was better so I could write down what my heart wants to tell you.
Death does leave a heartache and it can´t be healed but it also comes with beautiful memories no one can take away from you. I have lost some very dear to my heart and whenever I get a pang of loss it also brings me back to the good and loving times with them. Tears and laughter are often close.
Just want to give you a big virtual hug and yep…I heart you too! XXX
Oh Spuddles yes I want to come over and have a snifter with you. You’re so right, all of it… I’ve just never been able to say it out loud. I kinda keep those emotions bottled so thank you thank you thank you for getting it out there. I still have my mother but she’s riddled with Parkinson’s and we don’t have the same relationship we once did. Communication is hard and she can no longer travel over here (something she loved to do). I miss her like she’s gone and she’s still here!!!!! The last time she visited was in Jan ’08 and that’s when my stepdad passed away right there in my guest bathroom!!! Tragic, devastating, sad, unbelievable and just plain wrong are words to describe that day. Everyday there’s a tiny reminder of him here, it’s harder that it happened here because I have constant images of his last days spent with us. His last Church Service was in my Church seeing the girls being Baptised, it’s a comfort but I have a little hurt every Sunday when I think of him up there with his hands on them.
So go ahead… boo hoo all you want.. it’s what makes us human. Much love….. me. x
Sent the song to my girlie at school. She loved it too!
What a sweet song — and such a beautiful post about grief.
I think that losing one’s mother must be particularly hard, because we all need to feel mothered and that space or role just can’t be replaced. (Not to devalue other losses . . . )
I’m all choked up as I write this!
Thank you for writing that all out. Reminded me of how I feel about my Grandmother. You hit it dead-center…
Oh, Spud, I wish I was there to give you a hug!!! You write about your loss so honestly. What angers me is that I think people know there is no getting over it but they don’t want to deal with someone else’s pain, so they’re glad that “you are doing so well”. Cyber hugs!
Sweetie, I know exactly what you mean. My father died 31 years ago this August. And yes, you pick up your life and grow up and do all the things you’re supposed to do. But you will always miss that one special person. Every special day, you’ll feel that void again. It doesn’t go away ever. The pain just gets less sharp.
Big hugs
Bee
only the good die young, sob….
You made me nearly cry here. You are very very right…Time is not a cure