To Be, or Not To Be

It seems tacky to blog about grief.  A little mean, even.  A friend of mine who has been my personal grief coach as we join what he calls “the shitty little club” has noted that its a good, good thing there are so few members, and that people don’t always know what to say or do – that they don’t understand.  Thank God people don’t understand. 

Plus, everyone does it differently.  My way is not anyone else’s way, and I know that. 

Some days, however, it is hard to be silent when my brain works the way it does.  I don’t want to worry people, or worse, totally freak them out, but I also know there are so many good, kind people who are worried about us.  On good days, I want to tell them not to worry.  On bad days, I will try hard to be quiet.

I may not tell you much, but after I posted a grief update on Facebook and so many people reacted, I thought I would try my very hardest to put you a little at ease.

I am sleeping.  I am eating.  I know I don’t look like it, but I am.  I have lost 12 pounds, half of my womb and I have a broken heart, so I suppose its normal that I look awful.  If you want to feed me or tell me to eat, please don’t do it in front of Grace – she is worrying about me, and I don’t want her to.  She wants me to do my hair, and nails and makeup, and dress better than usual.  So if I look bony, but better styled than usual, that’s why.  If that keeps her from fretting that I am falling apart, I’ll do it.  

I cry alot.  But that’s ok.  I figure I have to get through here to get to there, and as the country song says, “If you’re going through hell, keep on going.”  I want to talk about Andra all the time, any time, but if you call or email and I don’t answer, it’s because I was actually getting something done (which is quite rare so I have to do it when I can) and if I don’t reply, its because I can’t remember anything, and I probably forgot your call.  Please don’t take it personally.  Please try again. If you don’t know what to say, that’s ok.  I don’t know what to say back sometimes.  I am trying just as hard to make you feel better as you are trying to make me better – it’s exhausting making people feel bad.  I don’t want to do it.  I realize you are afraid you will do it back to me.  You can just hug me, or say what you are feeling.  You probably can’t make me feel bad in a way I haven’t already, but if you do come up with something new, well, I have to feel it sometime.  It may as well be now.  It may as well be with someone like you, who I trust.  Tell me a story about Andra.  I love stories about Andra. Even ones that make me cry. 

When I can see around the blinding light of grief, I am so very, very grateful to everyone who has listened, prayed, helped and loved us.  It all helps.  Please don’t be afraid of us.  It’s just us.  And we really have to believe we will be ok, someday.  Even if we aren’t sure when that day will be.

Today, I saw the biggest and most beautiful double rainbow.  I stood under it and cried.  For all of us. 

Luckily for me, there was someone next to me, crying too.  And I guess that is all we really want.  Love along the way, people to laugh with us when we can, and company for the crying. 

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