Grief isn’t a short-term thing. Not really, anyway.
Grief…let me tell you some things about grief. Real things, not stupid platitudes, not sentiments. Just the cold, hard facts. Grief is real. Grief is hard. Grief is painful. Time does NOT make it better. Everything does NOT happen for a reason. And, the most important thing, there is no soul on this planet that can tell you HOW to grieve or for how long. That’s up to you, and you alone.
I know, I know. Geez, Lacy…pretty shitty thinking. Really, though, it’s not. It’s the truth. I have lived in this state of grief for four long years, and all of what I said is exactly true. My grief causes me physical pain sometimes. My chest will tighten up, my heart will feel pressed upon, my head will hurt. I won’t sleep at all some nights, and that causes a whole other set of issues. I withdraw from people and become sullen. I stop eating because the thought of food makes me want to puke. Grief manifests physically, make no mistake about that.
And for all those that say “time heals all wounds,” or “time will make it better,” I just want to say, respectfully, fuck you. You clearly have never experienced a loss so deep, so painful and life changing – because I assure you, if you had, you’d NEVER say that to anyone ever again. In fact, time actually seems to make it worse! It’s one more day that I have lived without Mark. One more day that I have gotten out of bed and not heard his voice or smelled his cologne or received texts from him all day long. One more day without him here.
Oh, and the whole “everything happens for a reason.” Get the fuck out of here!! NO, IT DOESN’T!!! Sometimes shit just happens because this world sucks. Sometimes there is 100% no reason at all for the person we love dying. You wake up and they are just gone. And no one has an answer for you as to why! You have to live the rest of your life not knowing and questioning, blaming yourself for not “saving” them. Sometimes, they take their own lives because they’ve had entirely too much to drink and went down some mental rabbit hole that they’ve had inside them for longer than you’ve known them. There is no reason for it. It just happens. As the saying goes, shit happens.
Grief has made me an angry person. It has made me cynical. And I really don’t care that it has changed me in that way. I’m no longer a pushover. Grief MADE me find my backbone. But it also made me very aware of what I say to people who are grieving and to the advice I give. I never, ever say “I’m sorry for your loss” anymore. You hear it so freaking much that it starts to mean absolutely nothing, and the word “sorry” just isn’t enough. Now I say “I’m sending you all my strength and love.” I don’t say any of the stupid things above…including he/she is in a better place, he/she is no longer in pain, it was his/her time, or anything to do with God. None of that makes the person grieving feel better AT ALL. They may not admit it out of kindness or — dare I say — etiquette, but I promise you, they are screaming inside every single time they hear ANY of these things. All you need to say is “they will always be in your heart, and you will see them in the things around you, and I hope you can find some comfort in that.” That will mean so much more!
Now, the how and how long…YOU determine that. No one can tell you it’s time to move on, it’s time to get over it, it’s time to get on with life. NO ONE!! You grieve as long as you feel it, because if you hide it, if you hold it in, it will come out in some other way, and it won’t be pretty. It can actually be detrimental. I sat on the same spot on the couch for three months and stared at the TV while Pat Robertson went on and on about whatever it was they were talking about, and then when The Middle came on, I knew I had to fix my kids lunch. Once they were fed, I went right back to my spot, staring at the TV. To this day, I cannot tell you one thing I watched…well, except for the day Pat Robertson’s son called out my name. Talk about FREAKY!!! I cry when I need to cry. I reminisce when I need to remember him. I write to him in a journal every day. Do whatever it is you feel you need to do. Need to talk to your plants? Okay, go talk to them. Need to dig a hole for no reason? Here’s a shovel and some gloves so you don’t get blisters. Just do whatever you need to do. And if it lasts for a month, great! If it lasts 4 years, like me, that’s perfectly fine. I’m 4 years and counting. I’ll be done when I’m done. Period.
Love,
Lacy
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