The Truth About Grief

What I Wish I Knew About Grief After My Son Died

Some of my dear friends just lost their sweet baby. She wasn’t even a month old. It hit so very close to home and I can’t remember feeling this devastated, or being this emotionally invested since losing my own son to a terminal illness many years ago.

And there are some things I want these dear friends to know. It won’t take their grief away but if it lessens it for even a brief second, or helps them navigate their grief, it is enough. Perhaps, if you’re grieving, it will be of some comfort to you too.

I want you to know your dear wee girl did not leave because of anything you did or did not do. If your round the clock exhausting, hopeful, prayerful, loving vigils over her could have healed her they would have. If sheer love could have kept her here, it would have. But her life and death were never really in your hands. God numbers our days before we have even one as Psalm 139: 16 clearly states. Try to find peace in these words. They helped me.

You will always love your little Hazel Grace. Though others say, “I know how much you loved her” in past tense, you will always, always love her in present tense. And that’s ok.

I want you to know you need to do things at your own pace, in your own time. While others may encourage you to give your loved one’s things away or pack them up immediately— as if that will also pack your grief up in a nice neat box that they can more easily handle — you need to do this when it’s right for you. Because you will constantly think of Hazel Grace whether or not you have reminders around. That’s normal. That’s ok.

I have heard that after losing a loved one you should wait at least a year to make any major life changes — moving, changing jobs, ending relationships, etc. and I have found that to be wise counsel in most cases.

You will usually grieve according to how you live. If you’re introverted, you will grieve more inwardly and alone. If you’re extroverted, then you will likely share your grief with others. That’s ok. That’s normal. But I would encourage even those who are introverted to push themselves and allow others to share even just a small portion of your grief.

You are not going crazy. You are grieving. And when you grieve some of the things you feel or think or even say may make you feel like you’re going crazy. But you’re not.

You will likely be surprised at who stays in your life and who does not.

Allow yourself to keep living. Allow yourself to find some happiness in the midst of your grief, even if it’s just for a fleeting moment. You do not disrespect your loved one by doing so. They would want you to be happy.

People often say to someone grieving, ‘Call me if you need anything”, but you probably won’t. But you don’t have to grieve alone so pick up the phone and call a trusted friend if you need to talk.

There are usually no long, ongoing forever and always “good enough” reasons your loved one is gone. This is not blasphemous to say, even as a Christian. You will have times when what happened makes as much sense as it can, where you know deep down there is a reason, a higher purpose. But on Mother’s Day and Father’s Day and Grandparent’s Day and other holidays or anniversaries or other days, there is just no “good enough” reason, because you just want your loved one back.

Your faith may be shaken. God understands that and is not offended or surprised by it. He will not leave you in the midst of you deepest darkest sorrow.

And now, dear ones, on to the deeper waters of grief.

You are in the middle of “it”. This thing called grief. Right now you are in shock, in a cocoon of sorts that allows you to see and feel the outside world but only in a muffled, fuzzy sort of way. The cocoon is a thinly veiled protection for now.

You’ve spent hours in a funeral home talking to people because of the deep love for your sweet girl. You cried. You laughed. You were stoic. You wanted to run away, to be anywhere but there. But you couldn’t. Because you’re in the middle of “it”.

You heard (and cringed inwardly) if you remembered or registered what was being said at all, awkward “comforting” words spoken by others trying to make things better. You will likely deal with this awkwardness by others throughout your grief process. Try to be forgiving.

You will be thankful and overwhelmed by love and support during the early stages of grief. People you did not know well or at all swoop in to comfort. Then they and others leave and the once constant ringing of your phone stops and voice messages dwindle. And in conversations you have, the subject of your grief will be changed by others to less difficult for them topics

People (at least some) are good at comforting in group settings. But going deep, listening to gut wrenching emotions or just sitting in silence with someone grieving is not the forte of most.

The very nature of grief dictates others will go on with their lives as will you, but in very different ways. Your road has taken a sharp, life changing dark and unexpected, long and unchartered detour called grief. Theirs hasn’t.

You may be angry or disappointed or surprised because the whole world is not grieving your loss. That the attention span others have for your situation is brief. It’s ok to feel that way. It’s ok for others to go on with their lives too. Because it’s too sad for them to do otherwise. And your loss is truly not their loss.

Still some may keep their distance — as foolish as this may sound — simply because what happened to you could happen to them. And that’s more frightening than they can ever even begin to deal with. And so they don’t.

Before I lost my son I heard there was a grief process but could not fully understand it until I was in the middle of it. You have to go through this process to get back to “normalcy”, whatever that is. Because truth be told, you are now living a new normal that looks nothing like your old normal life. And there’s nothing even remotely “normal” about it.

Your grief process will likely take longer than others who have not experienced it think it should. It will likely also take longer than you think it should or would. Take things at your own pace, in your own time.

The only way around grief is through it. There are no short cuts. There are no short cuts. But you do have to go through it. No one can do it for you.

I can testify it does get better. Many times the “better” is almost imperceptible — tiny glimpses of light in shrouded darkness. There is no getting better by leaps and bounds regarding “it”.

There’s no rule book — no proper etiquette for “it”. Grief is different for everyone. It just is. And those who mourn expect their closest loved ones will be at the same place, at the same time in the process. It rarely happens that way which can cause division, hurt feelings, confusion, anger and disappointment.

I have often thought that grief, at its deepest level is like being in the middle of the ocean. There’s no land in sight. There are no life rafts, no life jackets — not even a rope. You are just able to keep your own head above water. There is no possible way to save the others also in the middle of that ocean. You have nothing to reach out to them with. Take heart, you will make it back to shore. You will. And so will they.

Your emotions and feelings will fluctuate — sometimes wildly — from despair to the tiniest sliver of happiness. Sometimes an emotion or grief stage will sit and stay for awhile. And just when you think you’ve got “it” figured out, you hear a song, you smell a smell and you are right back in the thick of things. That’s ok. That’s normal. You are making progress whether it feels that way or not.

At some point you will likely experience: guilt, denial, anger (perhaps even at God), depression. You may even experience them more than once. These are all normal reactions to the loss of a loved one. But they are not places to take up residence and live in. Seek help if you need it. There’s no shame in that. It does not mean you’re weak. It means you just need help navigating the deep waters of grief.

And in time, if you allow yourself to fully grieve, you will also finally experience acceptance of what has happened and hope for a future.

Hope for a future? Yes! I had no hope for any future at first. Truth be told, I did not want a future. I asked God to let me die. Many times. But He did not. And since He left me here I finally had to decide what to do with that fact. I had to figure out why He left me here.

You also have to decide — yes, it’s a conscious one foot in front of the other choice — if you’re going to just be alive or live. Live, if for nothing else so that your loved one lives on too through you. Live, simply because they would want you to. Live, because God left you behind for a reason. Find that reason, once you are able to.

Over the years I have read that grief never gets any better. Ever. How utterly awful that is to tell someone who is in the midst of grief. I am here to tell you that is absolutely not true. Your body, your heart, your soul could not sustain you forever if you forever grieved the way you do at the height of your grief.

Dear friends. I want you to know that it will not only get better in time and with some hard work and deliberate choices but “it” is not a life sentence. You don’t have to wear the black shroud of sorrow forever. Losing a loved one is not a forever vocation. It’s not who you forever are or will be. It’s something that happened to you — a life changing event.

I am living proof there is hope.

Please know and understand, dear ones, that someday, in time, and with God’s help and comfort and love, you will be too!

Jackie Deems

copyright 2019