It finally happened, the thing my grief counselor warned me about. I was in a local pub with a couple of friends and one of them said, “I’ve been reading your blog . . . don’t you think it might be time to move on?”
From my brother’s death, is what he meant.
The question didn’t surprise me – my friend is definitely not a “feeler” when it comes to personality types, and he’s not one to intentionally process his emotions. Like many people, he sees “bad” emotions like grief as troubles to be overcome, wrestled to the ground.
I, on the other hand, am an off-the-charts feeler who firmly believes that uncomfortable emotions are meant to impart life lessons. They are spiritual teachers, and we should sit with them and listen to them.
In my experience, if psychic pain isn’t fully processed, it comes back as depression, anxiety, anger, or – in the case of my dear departed brother – death.
Living in the Land of Grief
What that processing entails and how long it takes is unique to every individual and to every loss. Nevertheless, my grief counselor told me that at some point, someone would probably decide on my behalf that it was time for me to “move on.”
So I had to smile when my friend used that exact phrase.
I can’t remember what I said to him, if anything, but the answer to his question is: No – it is not time to “move on” or “get over it.” That’s not what happens. Ever. A major loss will gradually become a part of you; you adjust. You do not get “finished” with grief.
It’s like learning a new language in a new country. You will, over time, get used to it and function fairly normally. But it’s still a different country than the one you used to live in.
Bottom line: stuffing my feelings doesn’t work for me anymore, so I won’t be pretending that I’m “over” my brother’s death. If you’re uncomfortable with that, simply don’t read my blogs tagged grief, even if they are brilliantly written and sometimes maybe a little funny.
Deal?
Six Month Check-in
It has been six months now. I have little memory of the first three months, except for a great fear of losing my mind because that’s what my mother’s death did to my brother. I was relieved to find that several others in my grief support group shared that fear. That’s mostly gone now, thank God.
When I try to analyze or control my grief, to tell it what it “should” be doing now, I still experience anxiety.
If I get too busy or spend too much time with others and don’t take time for rest and reflection and writing, I find that the tears come rushing back as soon as I’m alone. Pacing myself is key to recovery.
I’m still having trouble doing the things that need to be done: lawyer crap, social security and medical bill crap, house cleaning crap. Crap, crap, crap.
Sometimes I’m angry at Biff, at God, at life. At crap. But in general, I’m doing OK. I am feeling better, not worse.
Write, Cry, Celebrate
I will continue to write about grief when I need to because it helps me, and because I hope that it might help others who are grieving to know that they are not alone.
I want you to know that it’s OK to talk about your grief. Talking and talking is an important part of the healing process. Don’t feel that you are a burden — just make sure you choose safe people who won’t judge. There’s no right or wrong. If someone doesn’t understand, don’t share your grief with them. Simple as that. Your journey is unique. But it does help to have company, so find a support group if you can.
Write about it. Cry if you need to.
Celebrate when little things get back on track. I can now go to the grocery store without losing it. This is big. Sometimes I can listen to music.
Six months is nothing, really, when you’re putting your soul back together, but every day is a small victory.
Cynthia DeBriae
Jul 31, 2018 @ 18:41:08
Thank you for sharing compassionate words. I am truly sorry for your loss, for your pain, for your angst. I am going through my on personal hell of eleven months. My beloved diagnosed last September 5, died December 30. I have been grieving since the diagnosis. It amazes me what I have learned. What I have survived, what I have become. Bottom line, grief is painfully hard.
Keep writing and sharing. We are listening.
melanielynngriffin
Jul 31, 2018 @ 22:44:51
It is so challenging, but truly we do become new (and generally better) people because of it. Blessing as you remember your loved one. Thanks for visiting.
Jlea
Jun 01, 2016 @ 23:35:19
I would say, “I know. I’m tired of feeling the way I do too, but I just can’t seem to stop. Wish I could just forget that my husband, and now my daughter died, but strangely, I can’t. It’s the darnedest thing.” My problem is a little different, however. Everyone is waiting for me to fall to pieces. I can’t stand it. Yes, I feel terrible, but I’m not about to put on a grief show for everyone. I feel I have to work to keep people from feeling uncomfortable around me. Ah you can’t win either way.
melanielynngriffin
Jun 02, 2016 @ 00:58:11
Oh my God, how dreadful! Grief is a very complicated thing. I’m really sorry you are in such an awful place. Do whatever you need to do for you. For as long as you need to!
bodhisattvaintraining
Jul 08, 2014 @ 20:01:30
Six months is nothing! But you said that yourself in the last line…we don’t wish for others to experience such pain but one day your ‘friend’ will understand no doubt. x
melanielynngriffin
Jul 08, 2014 @ 20:04:21
I know; I feel as if I’m just beginning to believe it – grief, stage one. Sadly, we all get there eventually unless we die very, very young.
Dianne
Jun 27, 2014 @ 09:34:02
Hi Melanie,
Not all of your readers will ever have the same reaction to any of your posts. Some will roll their eyes at one thing, other will roll their eyes at another. Keep writing what you want and need to write about because for every person rolling their eyes at any given post, there are that many (or more) people not rolling their eyes 🙂
My favorite line from this post: “I am feeling better, not worse.” I know that doesn’t mean your emotional life is a straight line upward from here on out, but still, my heart is very happy to read this.
Dianne
melanielynngriffin
Jun 30, 2014 @ 00:03:22
Thanks, Dianne.
I think that anniversaries like the 6 month thing are helpful because you can step back and look at larger trends. It was a comforting realization that I am definitely better, not worse. I am way stronger than I was.
Sarah
Jun 25, 2014 @ 15:04:05
Thanks, Melanie, for putting voice to this–something I have been feeling myself lately . . . grief is the same animal no matter what or who you are grieving, full of the same highs and lows regardless of the subject matter.
melanielynngriffin
Jun 25, 2014 @ 15:19:23
Yes – highs because you really do have some spiritual epiphanies and can see such inner growth, and lows because – well, because loss sucks. 🙂 Your writing shows how much one can learn from loss. Thanks for that, too.
Rick G.
Jun 25, 2014 @ 14:50:06
there’s no time limit for missing someone close to you that’s died, as long as it does’t stop you from living your life.
I think about and miss my dad everyday since he died 4 years ago. I’m very sad that he’s gone but the memories that he’s left in me, make my life better.
melanielynngriffin
Jun 25, 2014 @ 15:01:09
Yes – sadly, missing mom did stop Biff from living, quite literally.
Amazing that it’s been four years since you lost your dad – I can still see his lovely smile. Thank God for memories! Thanks for reading and commenting.
lesley725Lesley725
Jun 25, 2014 @ 14:39:03
Beautiful and thoughtful, Melanie, as are all your posts. I never knew Biff, but Dennis has often spoken of him through the years. I have no wisdom to offer, only my heartfelt sorrow that Biff is no longer with you–in this realm anyway.
melanielynngriffin
Jun 25, 2014 @ 14:57:16
Thanks, Lesley. Dennis was a very dear friend to Biff – they saw many a sunrise together 🙂
A Writer With Something To Say
Jun 25, 2014 @ 12:39:43
I’m sorry for your loss. I lost my brother in 2007 and I still can’t believe he’s gone. Grieve for as long as you have to.
melanielynngriffin
Jun 25, 2014 @ 13:40:43
Oh wow – I was wondering when the shock/disbelief might wear off. Perhaps it never does. I’m sorry for your loss, too.
1EarthUnited
Jun 25, 2014 @ 12:32:20
There’s no time limit on grief! We’re not robots, grieve.
melanielynngriffin
Jun 25, 2014 @ 13:39:45
Thank you – I am surely learning that. Plus, I think each new grief stirs up old ones that still need processing. Cumulative loss, in a way.
lucky
Jun 25, 2014 @ 12:31:13
Some folks who want you to “move on” may somehow fear a loss of THEIR control around the flow of emotions. However, we have all seen the tragic toll of repressing emotions around loss. Flipping it all around, what if grief were a true gift and truly experiencing it was a sacrament?
melanielynngriffin
Jun 25, 2014 @ 13:39:03
Amen, brother! Grief is truly sacred, but as with any sacramental opportunity, one can choose to ignore it. Sometimes I think that one of our main tasks here is to learn to let go – of our egos, of each other, of life itself. Not a fun lesson, but reality.
Oliver Gray
Jun 25, 2014 @ 11:50:14
I had my first “move on” comment about 4 months after. I’m not a violent person by any means, but I had to restrain myself. I had to remind myself that many people haven’t lost someone so close, and don’t really understand.
Loss opens your mind, rearranges reality in a way where empathy makes tangible sense, not just theoretical sense. You’ll never “move on” because there’s nothing to move on from. Despite our understanding of time and desire to apply it to everything in life, emotions don’t follow a linear chronological progression. They always are, and will always be, floating above time in a space that transcends the everyday.
Thanks for writing this. I’ve been hiding from my grief lately, and it’s starting to show.
melanielynngriffin
Jun 25, 2014 @ 12:01:22
Thanks for the comment, Oliver. I hesitate nowadays when I post about grief – like, “are my readers rolling their eyes yet?” It’s good to be reminded that there really are other grievers out there – grief is the great uniter, and a teacher of empathy as you say.
I hope you find some time for a little retreat to remember your father and to write about it all. At least the grief gets gentler, even if it doesn’t depart.