Tuesday, March 18, 2014

Grief, What Its Like For Me 6 Years Later

Recently Offbeat Families reposted my article about my son on facebook, which lead to me reposting it on my facebook, which lead to a lot of my friends either hearing about it for the first time, or coming to understand what exactly happened. I wrote my story in 2010, and my advice is still accurate: I do prefer sympathy and then moving on. But I thought I'd talk today about how exactly I'm doing, and what life is like for me now.

First of all, I have to express how incredibly blessed I am to have David (my husband, when talking about my son I refer to him as Baby David) in my life. He recently said to me "your burdens are my burdens, don't feel sorry for them, let me help" and I swear I fell in love with him all over again. He is my best friend, and the one person I lean on with my grief; I don't know what I'd do without him.

Most days are like any other day. I go about it normally, sometimes something will make me think of Baby David and I don't feel sad, just nostalgic. And that's that.

But some days are still bad. My grief hits me like a ton of bricks and it comes out of no where. Suddenly I don't know how I can keep doing this, living without him. I cry and cry, yell how it's not fair, bawl my eyes out, sometimes starting a panic attack. David holds me the whole time, comforting me and making me feel not so alone. I hate those days, but I know they're inevitable, and they'll probably always exist.

Some years, I don't visit his grave, it just doesn't dawn on me to do it, nor feel like something I need to do. I don't think thats cold of me, it's just how I deal with it. But sometimes I do, and those visits are so painful. David always comes with me, and we only go at night, so theres no one else around (we're also breaking the cemetery visiting hours rules, but that hasn't been an issue). We bring a mat to sit on, a lantern to see with, his favorite book, and plenty of tissues. The visits always start out simple enough; I tell him whats been going on in my life, what's new with Nana and his Uncle Josh. And then I read to him Guess How Much I Love You, and that's when the tears really start flowing. Even from David, who never got to meet him, cries with me. We talk about how much he's missed, how we wish we could watch him grow. How I hope he'll have a brother or sister in the future. And then after we've gotten all the tears out, we pack up, leave, and try to go back to every day life.

The comments I get when I write about my son don't always sink in on normal days. I'm not feeling the grief, in fact it feels distant to me, so the sympathy feels weird. But on those bad days, thats when I really appreciate your words. They let me know I'm not alone, that people do care, even if they can't understand the pain.

And so I guess that's another reason I'm writing this. Not just to update you on my life, but so I can have a few more encouraging words to look at when I need them. When I have a bad day, and it feels like no one cares or even realizes what I'm going through, it's just...more pain than one should have to feel. And maybe this is selfish of me, asking for your sympathy, I don't know. I just want to make those bad days a little less awful.

So if you leave me a comment here or on facebook and I don't seem very responsive, that just means I'm having a good day. But know that when those bad days happen, I'm going to read them, soak them in, fill me with love, and make the grief just a bit easier to bear.

Thank you.

2 comments:

  1. I feel there is some universal hand in the fact that you lost a David and then found a David. While they both occupy different parts of your heart, there is something to be said in the balance of it all. I'm of the belief that everything happens as it should, when it does, for our lives to unfold into exactly what they were meant to be. While this offers no solace for the loss we feel along the way (none as heart-wrenching as losing a child, I cannot imagine the pain of that) it helps me to stay positive when look at the world that way. I'm so beyond happy that you have someone who understand and accepts carrying the weight of your loss WITH you rather than simply being a spectator to it. Someone that holds you when you need it and that you don't have to be embarrassed to be in front of when you suddenly feel the overwhelming loss again and break down. Really, all I want to do is hug you and thank you for sharing your story. If more people could be open about things like this I think there would be less quietly suffering people in the world. You rock. Oh, and I wish I could have met baby David, he looked like a total cutie. <3 Now to change the subject.... :)

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  2. I love you so much, girl. I wish I had more words to say, but you know I'm always here for you. I'm so sad I never got to meet Baby David and his funeral is one of my saddest memories. But I'm really glad you have David now and I'm happy that he's there to help you out and be your rock. It makes me really happy to see what a wonderful marriage you guys have and I honestly want to have one like yours one day. If you ever need anything, you know I'm always a text/call/message away. And now that I'm moving back to VA, I can visit and bring tea and video games. :] Love you and hugs from afar. <3

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