Many Shades of Loss

There are many shades and depths of loss, whether it is a friend, relative or acquaintance. When Tim was a teenager, his best friend, Jake, was killed in a freak car accident. Every year, Tim would go out to Jakes grave on Jakes birthday. He would sit beside it and talk with his friend. Tim would remind Jake of the fun they had together, the fights they fought, and joy of having him for a friend. He talked about what he had done in the last year and how much he missed his friend. Tim's sorrow was real and deep. He never told anyone that he went to see Jake every year. It was not until I  lost Tim and talked to Jake's sister that I came to realize one very important fact. She told me that she wished she had known. She thought Jake had been forgotten by everyone.

We have a great loss and want the world to know our loved ones name. We want them to know about their smile, their laugh, their story. We want them to remember them for who they were to us. We think, as time goes on, that our love has been forgotten by everyone but us. We grieve that loss of recognition, that loss of someone who did exist, who was real. What we don't know is that they are not forgotten. Those who remember them, don't tell us. Sometimes, it is because they do not want to upset us. They do not know that we find some comfort in hearing our lost ones name. We crave to hear their stories about them. We need to know they are remembered.

Many little grieves pile on top of the greatest one of all, our heartbreak at losing the ones we love. Say their name, we may cry, but say their name. Tell us about what they mean't to you, we may cry, but tell us. Cry with us and allow us to cry. Be the ear we need when we have the overwhelming desire to talk about those we have lost. Don't expect us to get over the loss, expect us to learn to live differently. Accept us for who we have become and are becoming. One does not go through this and come out the other side the same person as before it happened. We don't know if we will be a better person, a worse person, a bitter or hateful person. We don't know and on this path, some of us don't care. We have a hard enough time making it through everyday to begin with. We are not thinking about what will happen to us, but how do we survive this.

Grief and loss have many depths and layers. As we pass one milestone, another will rise up to lay us low. Each moment is learning to deal with what our lives have become. Some of us will get a little past the horror, some won't. Each person is different in their sorrow. 

I have found for myself that I had to make myself do things again. It was hard to leave the house, but we did. We went to basketball games, school functions, birthdays. Each time we went out, I could not wait to go home, to be alone in my grief. Yet each time I went out, it became a little easier. It did not take the sadness away, but it forced me to concentrate less on myself and my loss. I did not feel guilty, I felt it was another step into learning to live with this. The more effort we make to step away, especially when we don't want too, helps to make us a little more emotionally stronger.

Today, I read a mothers post. She sounded like me when I first started this new chapter. She did what I did, searched for answers on how to live with this. She found what I found, that most were saying the pain is with you forever. When we hear that, we think they are saying that this soul rendering sorrow will stay. This weight on our chest, this darkness is ours.  We despair that this is it, this is what we can expect for the rest of our lives and we know we cannot live this way. Ours is a cry in the night that no one hears. I have found that the worst of this does not have to rest on our souls. There is a moving away from the soul wrenching pain. Yes, we will carry our loss for all of our days, an ache from within, a memory, tears. After all, that is the price of love. 

We learn to walk through the many layers and mindfields of loss. We learn to sidestep the triggers that bring on the soul eating sorrow. We misstep and walk again. In a way, it is no different than learning to live life on a normal level, just that our normal is different from others who have not experienced what we have. There is hope, there is light.

About the Author

 My son, Tim, passed on January 5th 2014 at the age of 34. He chose to end his life. So many things happened to bring him to that point. Believe it or not, I understand why. No matter how our child died, that is the keyword 'our child.' I wish you all gentle days and nights as you walk your path. Barbara, 'Forever Mom.'

I'm Grieving, Now What?