Quite frankly, it hasn’t been easy. We will see how we do in the new year. I am grateful for the tremendous support, love, and compassion extended to us by many wonderful friends, family and kind souls. They have sustained us as we heal our broken hearts, battle sleepless nights, and worry over our children’s ability to cope with uncharted grief and pain. I am here for them; one of the most important reasons for plowing forward. As their mother, it is a delicate balance to manage my own sadness while maintaining enough strength to support their grief. But grieve they must; there is no way around but through.
I am reminded of one Minnesota morning when we all waved good-bye to our mom as we boarded the bus for school. Later, with much of the day behind me, I was called from 7th hour Science to come to the office. Two of my brothers were there waiting so we could go home with our neighbor’s son, who could drive. After leaving our school, he then headed to the grade school to fetch my youngest sister and brother. We arrived at our neighbor’s home where we waited for our dad to pick us up. It was an awkward, ominous interval until Dad showed up, his face flushed and grim. He encircled all five of us in his arms as he cried that Mom had died fighting a brush fire at home earlier that afternoon. Just like that my mom was gone; she was 38. I was 13.
I cried at that moment, I cried at the funeral, and then, I cried that evening after the family gathering of food and condolences had come to an end. In ignorance or innocence, a relative told me to stop crying because nothing could be done about it and I had to get on with life. So that is what I did. I would not feel sad and I would not let anyone feel sorry for me. And I didn’t need a mother .
Big mistake. Four months short of graduating from college at 21, I fell apart. Many stresses certainly had a role, but being denied the need to feel pain and loss over all those years had consequences as I found myself sobbing pitifully in the arms of a compassionate nurse, crying that I missed my mother. It was the first time I had ever considered it.
My critical point here is that one must grieve and grieve in whatever way is needed. There are no rules and normal ways. The death of a loved one, a friend, a classmate or neighbor has far reaching ramifications.
I wish I could spare everyone touched by Paul’s life the pain of missing him, but I can’t and it wouldn’t be right anyway. To deny them that would hurt them more. Tears may fall and fall often, but crying helps heal man, woman and child.
When my nephew, John II, flew in to give support, one of the first things he did was hand me a painting done by his 2 year-old son, Jax. Whether he knew he was doing it for me or not, it was given to make me feel better. It does and, thank you.
Crayola finger paint on a paper
I love you, Jax. It is a new year.
Perfect!
Your writing is art. I am especially touched by this sentiment: I wish I could spare everyone touched by Paul’s life the pain of missing him, but I can’t and it wouldn’t be right anyway. To deny them that would hurt them more. Tears may fall and fall often, but crying helps heal man, woman and child.
Thanks Lil you are so talented and I love and miss you, you write beautifully.
We appreciate your sensitive comments; it takes a long time and never will stop missing him.