This is My Mask. I Wear It For You

   Artwork: Leslie Evans

   Five years ago today we put my son in a casket. I looked down at his sweet face for the last time and said my goodbyes. After five years of coping with my own grief, I think it's expected that I be an expert and know all the answers. I try, I really do. I want to be as helpful as possible to others who are also hurting.

   I was recently asked how you get past it. I answered honestly, "You don't. It's always there. Time makes it easier to cope with, but it is and will always be there. The best thing we can do for ourselves is get out of bed every single day, put one foot in front of the other, and do our best to do the things we always did. We get really good at putting on our masks to hide how we really feel, so we can get through a day at work or take care of our children, or what ever the current task may be. After that, you go home and feel your feelings."

   Even as I try to help others find their way through their grief, I know that at five years in I'm still learning, too. Five years of my son being inside the Earth rather than on it has me thinking of it all. If I spoke to my grieving friend today, I'd add that while we do wear our masks to get through the days, it isn't for ourselves that we wear it. We hide the sadness at work not for ourselves but for those around us who are uncomfortable with any emotion other than Happy. But when you're at home or somewhere you feel safe with your Happy-mask off, it's ok to be gentle with yourself. Grief is physically draining just as much as it is emotionally draining. It is super important to keep going and to not stagnate, but you must rest. If you're tired, have a rest. Order take-out. Try to relax. It is so important to take time to heal from grief just as if you were healing from a broken appendage. Take the mask off and feel your pain. Wearing that mask is tiring, too. And lean on the few friends and family who don't mind seeing you as you are. You will sadly find that those are not as many as you might have thought. Most people forget your pain after a few months. So hold onto the special few who can hang with you when you're mask free.

    Five years since we buried my son. It's just unreal. A friend recently said, "It doesn’t seem like five years. I am sure for you it seems like forever." I replied, "Sometimes it feels like forever. Sometimes it feels like yesterday. And sometimes it somehow feels like both at the same time."