Grieving is a funny thing
Over a month ago my oldest daughter posted on her blog about her grandfather's (my father) death. She talked about other deaths in her life and it got me to thinking (or perhaps I should say wondering).
I went to my first funeral when I was 4 or 5 with my Nanna. It wasn't anyone I knew but a friend of hers. Since then I've attended many numerous family funerals (father, grandmothers, great-aunts, uncles), close friends, and, unfortunately the funeral of children. Once I was the soloist at the funeral of an infant. I can still remember the pall bearer (there was only one) carrying in a coffin about the size of a shoebox since the infant was premature. I was asked to to sing "Jesus Loves the Little Children," and it was the most difficult song to get through because everyone in the congregation was crying and I was, too. Every adult there could only be thinking, "That could be my child," and the horrible sense of loss that would have followed.
But I digress...
When I was young (and I'm sure this is true with most children), it was very difficult to understand how final death is but as an adult the sense of loss is compounded because you do realize that it's a done deal. It's too late for so many things if you didn't make peace with the person who passed.
For those of us who are left behind, the grieving can work in so many ways and I think this can also be somewhat shaped by memory. For instance, if words were left unsaid, there can be the sudden realization that it's too late and that can bring on waves of guilt as well as grieving. In addition, guilt can creep in with the, "If only" thoughts. The "If only I had helped with..." or "If only I had done this..." The shouda', coulda', woulda's can drive you nuts and add additional pain to the grief process.
If a parent's death is due to disease and there is the long goodbye, then it's easy to find life full of "the last time." Since I don't live in the same town as my parents, I found myself struggling after every visit as my dad's illness progressed. I realized, and I knew my dad did, too, by the look on his face, that each time I left to return home signaled a possible last time. He would always (until he was too weak) stand in the driveway waving at me. And each time I would wave back with tears streaming down my face. Each holiday there was the feeling of being the last Christmas or the last Thanksgiving or the last Father's Day. It lends a special poignancy to each moment. I found myself intensely aware of everything he said and did as if I was trying to mentally film everything about him for future reference.
Growing up there is a sense that mom and dad will always be there. We know that's not true, but in typical human fashion, we live in denial over this; we don't want to face the inevitable loss of the people who raised us because it is just too darn painful. As we get older and our parents die, we become more and more aware that we are next in line, so to speak. When both parents are gone, we become orphans. I've heard this from so many people who have lost both parents. Sometimes they can't put it into words until the idea of being an orphan is suggested. Most often there is an immediate response of "that's it!"
Another thing that grieving can do is force us to confront ourselves and that can be particularly difficult. We may realize that we made numerous mistakes involving the one that is now deceased. If it's not a parent, you may realize you shouldn't have been with that person but, for totally selfish reasons, you decided to do so. Then when they are gone, you have to face up to your mistakes and realize that you not only hurt yourself by making the wrong choice, but you hurt that person, too. This realization is painful, humiliating, and downright disheartening. Then every mention of that individual adds salt to the wound of your guilt. Even if others don't understand this conundrum, it's a wound that festers in our heart and soul.
There's an old saying that "time heals all wounds." I suppose that's true in some respects but I think it also depends on the type of wound. I personally think some wounds/grief never heal; they continually fester and just about the time you think you're over it and can find peace, bam! something hits you and the scab on the wound is ripped off and the pain is fresh and new all over again.
Thoughts?
I went to my first funeral when I was 4 or 5 with my Nanna. It wasn't anyone I knew but a friend of hers. Since then I've attended many numerous family funerals (father, grandmothers, great-aunts, uncles), close friends, and, unfortunately the funeral of children. Once I was the soloist at the funeral of an infant. I can still remember the pall bearer (there was only one) carrying in a coffin about the size of a shoebox since the infant was premature. I was asked to to sing "Jesus Loves the Little Children," and it was the most difficult song to get through because everyone in the congregation was crying and I was, too. Every adult there could only be thinking, "That could be my child," and the horrible sense of loss that would have followed.
But I digress...
When I was young (and I'm sure this is true with most children), it was very difficult to understand how final death is but as an adult the sense of loss is compounded because you do realize that it's a done deal. It's too late for so many things if you didn't make peace with the person who passed.
For those of us who are left behind, the grieving can work in so many ways and I think this can also be somewhat shaped by memory. For instance, if words were left unsaid, there can be the sudden realization that it's too late and that can bring on waves of guilt as well as grieving. In addition, guilt can creep in with the, "If only" thoughts. The "If only I had helped with..." or "If only I had done this..." The shouda', coulda', woulda's can drive you nuts and add additional pain to the grief process.
If a parent's death is due to disease and there is the long goodbye, then it's easy to find life full of "the last time." Since I don't live in the same town as my parents, I found myself struggling after every visit as my dad's illness progressed. I realized, and I knew my dad did, too, by the look on his face, that each time I left to return home signaled a possible last time. He would always (until he was too weak) stand in the driveway waving at me. And each time I would wave back with tears streaming down my face. Each holiday there was the feeling of being the last Christmas or the last Thanksgiving or the last Father's Day. It lends a special poignancy to each moment. I found myself intensely aware of everything he said and did as if I was trying to mentally film everything about him for future reference.
Growing up there is a sense that mom and dad will always be there. We know that's not true, but in typical human fashion, we live in denial over this; we don't want to face the inevitable loss of the people who raised us because it is just too darn painful. As we get older and our parents die, we become more and more aware that we are next in line, so to speak. When both parents are gone, we become orphans. I've heard this from so many people who have lost both parents. Sometimes they can't put it into words until the idea of being an orphan is suggested. Most often there is an immediate response of "that's it!"
Another thing that grieving can do is force us to confront ourselves and that can be particularly difficult. We may realize that we made numerous mistakes involving the one that is now deceased. If it's not a parent, you may realize you shouldn't have been with that person but, for totally selfish reasons, you decided to do so. Then when they are gone, you have to face up to your mistakes and realize that you not only hurt yourself by making the wrong choice, but you hurt that person, too. This realization is painful, humiliating, and downright disheartening. Then every mention of that individual adds salt to the wound of your guilt. Even if others don't understand this conundrum, it's a wound that festers in our heart and soul.
There's an old saying that "time heals all wounds." I suppose that's true in some respects but I think it also depends on the type of wound. I personally think some wounds/grief never heal; they continually fester and just about the time you think you're over it and can find peace, bam! something hits you and the scab on the wound is ripped off and the pain is fresh and new all over again.
Thoughts?
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