The Coin of Grief

Grief is a word that cannot be explained, only felt. We try, over and over again to tell others who have not been here what it is like. How we've changed, the world has changed, everything has changed. They do not comprehend the all consuming emotions that have us in it's grip. They do not understand that grief trumps all, takes over ones life no matter how hard we fight it. We get upset and frustrated because we cannot make them see. To do so means they are on this road too. It is a vicious, never ending circle that brings us back, time and time again to the moment of our loss.

We have become blind in our sorrow. It is not something that we want or even mostly realize. We did not ask for this to happen nor embrace it. We have lost sight of a world where others exist who are not on our path. The ones close to us are grieving too, and we know this. But we do not know the depths of their grief. Not only have they lost the same person we have lost, they have also, in many ways, lost us too. They feel forgotten, lost, alone, and have every right to feel that way. Does this sound familiar? We, the broken, feel this every second.

When my daughter first told me that she had lost not only Tim, her brother, but her mother too I felt, for a split second, resentment. How could she lay such a thing on me at a time like that? Did she not understand what had happened to me? To me! And there it is, it did not just happen to me. Her pain, no less than my own. In my sorrow I lost sight of her pain. In my grief, I left her, mentally. In my quest for understanding, I forgot that she needed understanding too. I have a step-son who is no less a son to me. I have done the same to him. I demanded understanding but did not give understanding. Does that make sense? For the compassion I thought I had, I was not giving to those very ones who loved me? I withheld the one thing from them that I wanted from them, understanding. My husband hurts every day, every moment of every day, yet he stepped up and took over everything when I could not do anything. All of this has been just as hard on him, yet he steps up everyday. I lost sight of his pain.

The coin of grief has many different sides. Siblings feel pushed aside as the loss consumes us day after day, they feel forgotten. They feel that the one lost was more important, more loved and they wonder, should it have been them? This horrifies me. I once said I would give anything to have Tim back and I know that is false. I would not give my daughter, my husband, my step-son or my grandsons. Their lives are just as valuable as the one who is gone. My love for them is so deep I fear I will lose them too. Sometimes, fear makes us back away, hide. By doing so, we leave them with the impression that they don't matter. I weep. I do not want to lose them. I do not want them to feel that they are invisible. Love is a horrible and beautiful thing. It destroys and creates. It hurts us so deeply we never want to raise our heads up again. Yet love is what will save us.

I need to quit expecting so much from others. Accept that no one but the ones traveling this road will know my sorrow and give understanding to those who cannot know. It's no more their fault than it is ours. Try to raise up and see those close to you, they hurt too. I give my compassion to many, many strangers and over looked those I should have helped as I expected them to help me. I had never done that before, looked at only one side of a coin. I had never been as unfair as I have been over all of this. There is no reason why I cannot love the living while I grieve for Tim.