Acknowledge

"Pain demands to be felt." I always liked that line from The Fault in Our Stars. I'd take it even one step more and say that pain demands to be acknowledged. I'm an unfortunate expert on grief. Not something to brag about. My dad died when I was 27, my mom when I was 32. Five months after her death, I went to four more funerals for a student of mine, my niece who committed suicide, a colleague, and my friend's stillborn son.

What I learned from this deluge of pain and overwhelming grief is it must be acknowledged, not swept under the rug of Hallmark phrases because we don't know what to say. Grief sucks. Most people vacillate between a stone cold numbness that allows you to function in the early days to crying over a tea cup you made for Mother's Day. Each day is never the same, even years later the pain is still carried, a heaviness in the heart that you learn to bear but sometimes overwhelms you with its weight.

Now for the phrases that made me want to punch someone right in the face even if they meant well were the "your mother is watching over you from heaven." I bit my tongue to not respond, "Thanks a lot, but I'd rather she was here playing with my son and spending time with me. So piss off." Or the "Your dad's in a better place." Yep, we'll I'm not. I'm in hell having to remind myself I can't call him when I learn some new scandal in history or take my sons to visit him in Britain. He may be debating the Trump presidency with God but he's not here with me. Or "She's in the arms of Jesus." I'm a Christian, and I get the sentiment, but I wanted to scream, "My arms are empty, please acknowledge that fact."

My best friend told me she didn't have any good words. She just helped me with settling the estate and letting me cry or talk about memories when I needed it. Others told me how much it must suck and let me rant and rave when the feelings overwhelmed me. My husband held me, a lot. Sometimes hugs and silence were the best. Just feeling someone hold onto me when I felt insubstantial because those who knew me best were gone.

Sorry for a long prose. Hope this helps. My heart goes out to her. It's going to be a roller coaster for a while. Which also leads me to the "never tell someone you should be over it now even years afterwards. Or it gets better. It does not. It just becomes something you learn to live with. St. Peter's thorn in the flesh. It will always be there. Think about it. Your mom is your whole world, the person who carried you and nursed you, and raised you. No one loves you like a mom. Rip someone that special from the world and there is going to be a monumental hole. If we didn't love them so much, it would be easier. Grief grows incrementally with how big a part of your life that person was.