You read over the obituary and wonder how a person’s time spent on earth is defined and summed up by how many children they had, where they went to school, their hometown, and spouse. You wonder why they didn’t include how good they were at listening, or how sharp their sense of humor was, or how they gave everything they had to their family.
You stand in a church and words and prayers are read, but you don’t listen to any of what is being said; you just stare off into the distance wondering if this is even real, waiting for it to feel real. You don’t feel sad yet – you feel like you should, but the truth is you are in a daze because reality hasn’t sunk in quite yet. How can they just be gone? You talked to them just days ago. You had plans, and they were supposed to still be here.
You stand among a group of people, most of whom you’ve never met, but that won’t stop them coming up to you with the “poor thing” look and hugging you, then telling you how sorry they are and how great the person you lost was, as if you don’t know, as if that isn’t the reason losing them is going to be so hard. You know they mean well so you smile and thank them; the truth is, though, you don’t want to be there, you don’t want to be polite, you don’t want to listen to people’s condolences… you just want to escape any reminder of the loss.
The initial loss is over, the memorial services are over, but grieving is not over. In fact, after the initial loss is when the real grieving begins. The initial loss is hectic: it keeps you busy and distracted, family flies in, preparations are made, you have homework and work to catch up on, and you are so busy that life without them hasn’t really sunk in. After all the chaos passes, though, you began realizing how different your life is. You didn’t think it would be this different. How can losing one person change your life that drastically? You come home and it’s silent, which surprises you because you always heard their favorite show playing on the TV in the living room. You accidently set their place at the table for dinner, and when you all sit down, an empty plate stares at you, and you never set that place again. You go to the kitchen before bed to have a late night chat, but the lights are off and no one is sitting at the end of the table doing a crossword puzzle. Things that seemed so insignificant, that were second nature, have now become sobering reminders that they are gone. It has finally sunk in, and it is all too real now. You keep having to say goodbye over and over.
Years have gone by and you realize you never really stop saying goodbye. Your mom calls it the “thousand goodbyes;” you think it may be even more than that. Even though they are physically gone, pieces of them are everywhere. Reminders of them come out of the blue, when you are in the grocery store and their favorite celebrity from their favorite show is plastered across magazines in the check-out line. Their favorite song comes on the radio, and it rarely ever plays. Reminders of them are followed by the reminder that they are gone, and that’s how you find yourself on the brink of tears behind a lady at CVS who is wearing the same shirt they use to always wear. The happy memories make you sad because you can’t turn around and reminisce about them together. You also have been angry, really angry. Everyone always talks about the sadness that comes along with death, but no one talks about the anger as much. You are furious, and you just can’t understand why, because there is no rational reason and even if there was one, you wouldn’t get the luxury of knowing it.
More years pass and you have learned to smile at the happy memories and not allow them to be tainted by the loss. You have gotten used to life without them. It doesn’t mean that you miss them any less or think about them any less. Some days you almost forget they are gone, then you find yourself pulling into their neighborhood, and you haven’t been there in years. You know they are gone, you’ve accepted that, but some days it feels like none of it ever happened. Losing someone is honestly a very strange experience.
It has been a decade since you lost them. A decade since your life was permanently altered. People told you “it will get easier” and for years you have been waiting for it to hurt less, for the fact that they are gone to be easier to accept. For years you thought you were weak or handling letting go wrong. People told you, you were lucky you were young and couldn’t really understand, but you did, and you thought because you were young it wouldn’t have as large of an effect on you, but it does. All the milestones you pass come with a feeling of excitement, but they also come with feelings of sadness and grief. It’s the same with holidays. It’s been a decade, but two weeks ago you had a small panic attack because you were thinking about them and realized you can’t remember what their voice sounded like. How can you not remember? You have decided it doesn’t get easier because if you allow yourself to sit and actually think about them and how they are gone, it still hurts just as much as it did ten years ago. Maybe they meant adapting to life without them would get easier, because you know they can’t be talking about the actual loss. The truth is, though, if they hadn’t been as great as they were, if they hadn’t had such a large impact on you, it wouldn’t be this hard. It makes you so grateful that you got to know someone like them. No, you don’t spend every day feeling sad, you don’t spend much time at all feeling sad anymore, but if you allow your mind to wander to the memory of them, it hurts just as much as it did the day you lost them.
The truth is, losing someone doesn’t get easier, but that doesn’t mean the happy memories can’t still be happy. It doesn’t mean you have to be angry for so long, it doesn’t mean you have to allow your life to be controlled by the hurt. It doesn’t mean you have to dwell on all the time you lost with them, rather than be grateful for the time you did have. It just means it still hurts, and that’s OK. It doesn’t mean you are weak, or being over sensitive. It means you lost someone you loved dearly.
