Grief and the Real Me

My kids and I on our way to visit my sister. 

I miscarried last month. Normally I’m a little more reserved about sharing stuff like this, but what’s the point of writing non-fiction if not to share something real? And this is as real as it’s got for me lately.

This last month has been hard. There’s this disconnect between what I know and what I feel. I know many women also have miscarried and some never even speak of it. I know five weeks is really not that long and other women have had it worse. I know God still has a plan for me and that I’m blessed to have two children. I know. I know. 

But I still feel like crap. I’m still depressed. I cry at stupid times over seemly nothing and didn’t write for four weeks. I binge watched Korean romances and my house fell apart. I felt angry, sad, hopeless, and frustrated, in alternating rotations, sometimes within one hour.

I’ve been thinking about myself, the me underneath everything that happens to me and around me and through me. I’ve also been thinking about depression, hormones, and emotions. It’s struck me more than once that my emotions aren’t me. My depression isn’t me. My anxiety, fear, and my imperfect body are not me. They are what’s happening to me.

I have to tell myself it's okay to grieve. Sorrow and sadness are the mirrors of hope and love. That is how it’s supposed to be. Maybe we can only feel as much love as we are willing to feel sorrow.

Little by little, I’m getting myself back. I write a bit here and there, read, and clean my house. I go on a trip to visit my sister. I stand in a parking lot and my dad and mom wrap their arms around me and tell me things that I need to hear. Even though I’m thirty and supposed to be all grown-up, I cry on them and feel better. I go to a ward barbecue and though I can't find it in me to really talk to anyone beyond the usual hellos, I feel a spark of the old me reemerging as I look for the missing shoes of my neighbor's children.

Tiny things. Tiny moments. I fight to let myself grieve, to stop judging myself, and let what I feel be honest and true.

I start to wake up.

I see blessings; gratitude breaking through the hurt and leaving my heart softened for the re-planting of faith. It becomes my stepping off point for all the good that can be found, somewhere. In a future still opening to me, still unfolding into a distance marked with hope. Because none of this is me. It’s my test. It’s my journey. It’s supposed to hurt. It’s supposed to be hard. It’s a million things tailored perfectly for me. The real me. The me I sort of know, but can’t quite remember, who understands that this life is a blip in my eternity. 

The real me continues, before this and after this, always and ever a daughter of God. And that's non-fiction, in the realist of ways.

How to Help When your Best Friend Loses a Loved One

 Funerals are Tough. Viewings are Tough. Burials are Tough…

But they are also sweet, comforting, peaceful, even joyful events in our lives.  The people we know and love surround us and make them so.

 

When our friends are going through hard times, we want to HELP! But it isn’t always easy to know how to give comfort, relief, support and love.  I don’t have all the answers, but our family just returned from a funeral of a most beloved and missed and cherished magical grandpa, father, and father-in-law.  And we were surrounded by people who were experts in giving comfort, relief, support, and love. Let me share some ideas we can all remember when someone is faced with this kind of loss.

 

1.  If at all possible, attend the funeral.  Go to the viewings. Be present. Even if your only interaction with the family will be a quick hello and a short hug, it will be remembered. Your presence is a show of love and support.  It is not a burden on the family to have to talk to “one more person."

I was so touched by a man who has known our family for decades. He attended each viewing and the funeral. Then the following day the family drove four more hours for the burial and an additional viewing and as I walked in the door, I saw this family friend.  His attendance still brings tears of gratitude to my eyes.

2.  If you know any of the people well enough to know their likes, dislikes, or comfort food, now is the time to show that with gestures that demonstrate you know them and remember.  Anything however small will be grasped and held and loved in memory for years to come.

One neighbor regularly uses the family’s favorite bread recipe. It was taught by our grandpa’s mother and is a cherished taste in and of itself.  This neighbor brought by a few loaves just a day after we heard the news.  Then when she noticed how quickly it was sliced up and served around, she came by a few days later with several more loaves.  We still talk about her kindness.

3.  There will be a lot involved in the funeral process and often families will want to show some kind of personal representation of their deceased family member.  If you are close enough, offer to help with this part of the day.  Make copies of pictures, put them in frames. Offer table cloths, centerpieces, show up early to help set it all up.

Someone (a few someones) did just that, and I love them for it.

4.  Offer to be or find home security during the funeral and viewing hours. Sadly, these hours are posted in local newspapers and therefore create targets for burglars.

5.  Be aware that funerals are expensive times. If you have extra, give, give, give.

We were so so very blessed by many anonymous people who shared more than they had to give. Their offers to my sweet mother-in-law are too sacred and special to go into any more detail.

6.  Share your positive and loving memories with the family. Make them laugh, smile, grin.  Talk about the positive influence they and their deceased family member has had on your life. Share memories you have they may not have ever heard before. Consider writing a letter expressing all the reasons you are grateful for them and their loved ones.

7.  When attending a viewing and greeting grieving family, it is OK to cry, but try to focus on the positive reasons to cry.  Do NOT talk about how difficult life will be from here on out.  Unless you feel you should, don’t ask, “How are you?” That is not an easy question to answer when the pain is still fresh in your heart.

8.  Remember the value of food.  It is a basic need after all and even though it is the first thing most people think of to help, it is TRULY NEEDED.

We had around 30 people to feed in our home at any given time and people brought over delicious home cooked meals to feed us all every night for more than a week.  Not only that, but throughout the day, people dropped by with lunches, snacks, their favorite desserts, fruit and veggie trays. etc. I have never seen so much food. And we loved it and we ate it, and we gathered around it together as a big extended family and created precious memories. It was “just food”, but it was so indescribably the perfect thing to do for us.

9.  When all the rush dies down, when everyone else’s lives return to normal, remember that those who have a loved one in heaven are changed forever and sometimes even normal life is painful because it seems too normal.  Think of ways to show love and care even throughout a whole year after:  Notes to express love, drop by lunch, filling in needs whatever they may be, inclusion in social gatherings…Remember the deceased person's birthday. Remember the anniversary of their death.

10.  Have extra patience and understanding.  Give LOTS of benefit of the doubt. Choose to not be offended by anything. Don’t back away or give up.  Be present, loving, kind and patient…..for a long time.