I guess my question for the day is, when is it going to feel real? I was having a breakdown tonight reading about the birthday of my friend's son who took his life two years ago. His brother and sisters spoke at his service and it was impossible then and now not to cry over the courage and heartbreaking pain they experienced and shared with everyone that day. It was absolutely mind blowing how they were able to do that, and draw strength from each other and how this family continues to bond together.
It feels wrong of me to detach the way I have and to become emotional over other people's losses. I truly can't help it. It's like I don't have anything to fear anymore. It's not that I am trying to compare Adam's death or our family to anyone else but it does seem obvious that we cope and grieve in different ways. I have never done this before, lost anyone close to me, so I don't have a clue what to expect. I printed off the stages of grief for Pat over the weekend, and I don't seem to fit into any of them. I am going about business like I haven't missed a beat.
Sometimes I still get that pounding, racing heart beat when I am trying to sleep or wake up and I realize that Adam is gone, that it's not a dream. It feels like terror. But most of the time, if I am honest, I was more sad and scared when he was alive and unreachable.
I am horrified to be saying this.
1 comment:
I remember when I had my terrible car accident. I was stressed out because I had so much school work to do yet I was heading up to go skiing, knew I shouldn't be. Was worried about so many things. When I realized I was going to crash, I believed entirely that I was about to die. I felt this incredible euphoria as all my worry melted away--I felt so light and free to be released from all my burdens. I wasn't afraid, just at complete peace. Then wham, I realized I wasn't going to die, my face was in incredible pain, there was so much crap to deal with around the accident. But those moments of peace, the freedom from worry and burden, haunt me still. We all worry about our children--Dad reminds me of that all the time. Even if they're making the best choices, accidents happen, so all the time there is a feeling of concern hovering. I don't think you are detached from your grief--it is a real terror to you--but you also know that concern about Adam brought its own kind of every day fear. He didn't make the choice we wanted him to make, but I take comfort thinking it brought him some measure of peace. And you don't have to feel bad saying that some small burden has been removed...it is replaced by other burdens, which are some days heavier to bear and other times not. No one fits easily into the five stages of grief, just as none of us live our lives in the same way. Adam was the most introspective, thoughtful person I knew--he really wanted to understand himself, I believe. He got that from you. Most people would ignore emotions they don't feel "fit the norm"--but you are dealing with them, confronting them, and seeking understanding.
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