A Cloak of Pretense

The moment of our loss, all pretense, the mask, falls away. What is seen is the inner us, so raw and broken; completely destroyed. Those around us see how lost we have become in that instant. It is hard for them to bear what they see. We really don't see those around us, feel their pain or sorrow. Life does not exist for us where we have been tossed. Death is all consuming, pain and devastation our new reality. We do not have the ability to hide anything that we feel, nor do we care to try. Not at first. We need to talk and say their name. We need others to understand what has happened to us, how deep and destructive this loss is. In the beginning, they understand the tip of the iceberg, but never see below the surface of the water to the base that is blown apart, never to reform again.

Moments turn into hours, days, weeks, months and we still mourn while others move on. We feel left alone in the greatest sorrow we will ever know. We start to pull the cloak of pretense tighter on our shoulders. Not because we are ashamed but because in time, we no longer want to share the intense sorrow. People come up to us and say 'how are you?' We say we are okay or fine while our mind screams 'can't you see? I am lost, I am broken, I am alone, I am changed!' They smile and say they are glad to hear you are doing better. Did we say that? That we are better? No, but we pulled the cloak close so they would think that. 'You are so strong,' they say, 'I couldn't do what you have done. What you have been through would have killed me. You are such a strong person.' You want to tell them you are dead that your body just does not know it yet. You don't. They would be shocked and want you to seek counseling. You feel like a fraud for you know you are not strong, strength has nothing to do with your ability to still walk. You don't even know why but do know that strength has nothing to do with it.

I look in the mirror and am surprised at what I don't see. It should be carved across my forehead that Tim is gone. I should look a hundred years older. My body should be hunched and broken. That is how devastated my insides are, yet it does not show on the surface. No one sees or knows. My cloak of pretense works well. I am learning to hide from the world that which has taken over my old life. They continue on with their daily living with only a touch of the shadow of one who once occupied a space in their lives, comforted in the knowledge that you are better. You carry on walking within the shadows, crying in the darkness; pulling your cloak ever closer. You are now directionless, emotionally changed and living in a world that does not make sense. Searching for answers to questions that you don't even know to ask.

It is a new way of life. One that we fight every step of the way. We don't want a new way, we want the old one back. We want the sorrow and tears to stop. We don't want to be different from others. We are different and will remain so. But, there are more like us then we knew before we became a part of grief. So many struggle along this abyss trying to not fall any further into the darkness. Our searching has brought us to many who suffer as we do. We have found a place among the multitudes who crowd this road. We are all alone in our minds, but we are not alone in our sorrow. The cloak is in place for those who have not had to travel this path yet. Even if we showed them the truth, over and over, they would not be able to grasp it. We learn that until one walks this way, understanding is not possible.

Words cannot tell you how to navigate this minefield called grief. What works for one may not work for another. We are all the same in many ways and completely different in others. Our pain is not more or less, it is just different. We will find compassion and understanding in some and not in others. We will be hurt easier, be lost most of the time and learn to walk away from that which is toxic to us. We will never have answers, for death is such an unknown, but we can try to let the questions go.

Pretense helps us to walk. It takes us a step away from the pain for short periods. In time, you no longer have to throw the cloak on for others, it becomes a part of it all. It becomes natural. Try not to take someones idea of how long grief is to heart. Try not to fall into the pattern that this how it will always be. Everything changes over time. It does not go away, it changes. Some for the better, some not. I will love and miss and grieve for my son forever, that is a given. He will be there, in my mind, my heart, my soul. I will cry many more tears, oceans of tears. Love does not die just because he did. I hope someday to smile at a memory instead of breaking down. I will pretend I am okay and maybe it will become, partly, a reality.