Reality of Grief

There are things you don't realize about grief until you're actually going through it. Some people might imagine grief solely on what they see in things like TV shows, movies, and novels. In some of these stories, the characters completely falls apart. In others, the loss doesn't get focused on as much, perhaps in fear of distracting from the main plot.

Today, however, we're not going to focus on the portrayal of grief; rather, we're going to discuss some of the realities, the grim facts of the grieving process.

It comes in waves.

Sometimes you're doing okay, but other times you go through a phase where you're just unhappy and everything stinks and it hurts and...
Come on, you were doing so well on Monday. Why is Tuesday the time of crying over a song and your throat aching during a TV show?
And the waves are unpredictable, too. You'll be in one state of mind, and then it'll shift at some point, sometimes without warning or an apparent trigger. It's like your brain decides it can only put up with being miserable or somewhat okay for a certain period of time, and then it has to switch modes. Just pray you don't drown when the next tidal wave crashes down on your head.

People will react differently to it.

Upon hearing that you've just lost a loved one, not everyone knows how to react. Maybe you want to talk about it, maybe you don't. They don't want to say the wrong thing, so they might become awkward or just not bring it up at all. 

There, there. Sheldon's here.

This, of course, produces mixed results. Sometimes, you don't really feel like talking about it. You don't even want to think about the painful subject. But then you start to wonder if people really think about it the fact you lost someone, or feel that some people may have forgot about it, because it's never mentioned. By anyone. Ever.
Then there's the people who just come right out and say it. While it can hurt to discuss it, sometimes it feels nice to have your grief acknowledged, to know someone's aware of the struggle you're going through.
Of course, we also have the occasional issue of people saying the wrong thing. Maybe they meant well, but it only made you feel worse, and perhaps was badly phrased. Imagine you're discussing a lack of motivation, avoidance of something, or another issue, caused by your grief. The person you're talking to says you just have to get over it. Maybe some other wording, like 'Pushing through your grief can be hard," would have been better here, but "Well, you just have to get over it"? No! That's not what you want or need to hear right now, or ever.

You're going to avoid certain things.

Maybe you associate a certain recipe with that person. So you just can't bring yourself to make it. You might get as far as buying the ingredients, but no further. And then you eat the Hershey's kisses that were supposed to be in the peanut butter blossoms, so that settles that.

Then there's that mountain range in your fantasy setting you named after them. But you don't say the name of the mountain range, or write it down on the map you created. Or write it anywhere, for that matter. It's recorded only in your head, nowhere else.

For purposes of simplicity, let's also avoid this song, and these articles of clothing, and this, and that, and... hey, this is how we cope. Don't interfere with the process of not exploding or falling apart, okay?

You become a spontaneous tear generator.

You know, these lyrics bring to mind exactly what I'm going through. It's just... (sniff) No, I'm not crying, I'm cutting onions. Yes, I'm cutting onions in my room while sitting on the bed! They're invisible onions, okay?! And an invisible knife!
...that's embedded in my heart, and every beat cuts the life-giving muscle further.

And sometimes it's the seemingly small things that cause you to become a waterfall. You see a small child run up to their father, leap into his arms, and enthusiastically shower him with kisses. Suddenly your eyes are damp, and you struggle not to cry in the middle of the church sanctuary.
Or maybe you don't know why this random thing is somehow such a big deal. Or it seems like nothing in particular set you off, you just suddenly find yourself in Tear Central. "Why are you crying" "I don't know! (sob)"

"Nobody understands what I'm going through."

I bet these people have never suffered a loss like I have. And look at them! Talking, laughing, everything's perfectly fine for them. They're completely oblivious to the fact that someone just walked in who's suffered a tragedy, someone who's unhappy and hurting. Even when I sit here all quiet and melancholy-looking, nobody seems to notice. Maybe if I flail about and drag a broken wing like a killdeer, they'll notice something's up.

In fact, sometimes a part of you wants to shout, "You don't understand! You don't know what it's like, what I'm going through!" Maybe in some cases, they don't even know you or what's going on with you, or maybe they just don't know the feeling of losing someone close to you. Other times, they do know the feeling.
But in your hurt, it feels like you're alone in this horrible state of mind, and no one can comprehend the misery you're suffering. And you want someone to know that no, you're not all right. You want someone to notice you're not doing well today, and ask you what's going on.

You're not fine.

"How are you?" "Fine." (lie detector explodes and bursts into flames)

This goes back to whole 'waves' thing. Sometimes you seem to be all right. Then you'll be set off by something, or the next wave hits and you just wake up in a crummy mood.

Another problem is that sometimes you might wish you could be fine. You try to carry on, even when you feel like hiding in a dark, gray, dismal room away from humanity, curling into a ball, and wallowing in misery. Besides that, you don't always feel comfortable announcing to random people that your loved one died, you're doing horribly, and you really didn't want to leave the house or face human beings today.

Or maybe you get good at lying to yourself. "I'm fine," you say, smiling and oblivious to the fact that you're on fire. You try so hard to function, so determined to push through the pain, that you bottle up your true emotions. Only trouble is, though, the pressure builds up in said bottle, like shaking up a soda, until finally the whole thing bursts. Red soda sprays everywhere like blood, and now there's a big mess and the bottle is in bad shape.

The other thing about 'being fine' is when you don't feel fine, and you're certain the whole world is oblivious to how miserable you feel. Circle back to the 'nobody understands' issue mentioned earlier. And when everyone around you seems to be okay, you might even feel envious. "Yeah, I wish I could be that cheery." "I remember when I was happy. It was many moons ago..." And you wonder when, when you're going to feel fine again.

You replay all those bad moments in your head.

Waiting for the ambulance, lying in the hospital bed, worrying the person will die. The various stages of their declining health, the concern and the fear and the misery. The way the artery in their neck fluttered like a fragile baby bird, and how it bothered you.
Sometimes unbidden, you recall the unpleasant things, the painful things. A part of you wishes you could forget the worst parts, because of the way they haunt you. But no, the dark memories remain. The day of their death, hearing the words on the phone, crying in the hospital room.


You have a powerful fear of others around you dying.

What you're going through now is bad enough. You don't want to face any more death. But death is so real, so tangible now, you worry it could happen any time, even when and to whom you least expect it. You worry like mad when someone has an ailment, or without having a specific reason to. Not a good time to have an active imagination.

You'll have dreams about said person.

Your brain comes up with about nine million alternate realities, many of which involve your deceased loved one in some way or another. Maybe your dream features them there, like they never died and they're still around. Maybe they appear and explain that no, they didn't actually pass away. Maybe you know they're dead, but they're sort of in the dream, like a ghost. Or perhaps they're alive, but you remember partway through the dream that wait, they actually aren't.
Name the scenario, they'll be there. Sometimes you even wake up with face and pillow wet from crying. Always a great way to wake up and start your day.