Grief - My Constant Companion

   For the past year, grief has seemed to be the one constant in my life.  It has been my unwanted, but ever present companion.  I've tried to define grief but I think it warrants a different definition each time one experiences loss.  Merriam-Webster defines it as: deep and poignant distress caused by or as if by bereavement; also: a cause of such suffering.  I thought I had suffered deep and poignant distress from past losses but nothing, and I mean nothing, prepared for the grief that I have suffered from losing my son, Ryan.

   When I was a child I lost a favorite uncle and I grieved as a child does.  I was sad for awhile and missed him but over time it faded.  My first adult experience with grief was when my Granny Ott passed away.  We had lived in the home with her and loved her very much.  When she died I felt that crushing, can't breathe, type of grief for the first time.  Later I lost my Grandma Thelma and felt the same type of grief.  When my Dad passed away, it was worse than any emotional pain I had ever felt.  I couldn't stop crying and I was physically sick.  For many years I could not even talk about my dad without crying.  I missed him and I needed him.  He could fix all the bad things that came into my life.  What was I going to do without him to help me?  As time has passed it has eased and I can look back with fond memories of him.  I still talk to him and tell him that I need his help. These conversations are no longer sad and tearful.  Do I think I'm crazy for talking to Dad?  No.  I've been told by many of my friends that they also talk to their parents who have passed.  We will always search for their spirits because we want  their guidance.

   Losing Ryan was a whole different level of grief.  Parents shouldn't have to grieve for their children.  It should be the other way around.  I was brought up to never question "why."  I was taught that there is a reason for everything and that in time we will understand.  But I did and do ask why?  Was it something I did wrong?  Was Ryan's life cut short  because of my past mistakes?  I don't know.  Last week I sat at the hospital visiting with my former mother-in-law, my kids' Granny Faye.  She had an accident and is suffering from a life-threatening infection.  I felt the need to go talk to her about my kids before it was too late.   While sitting with her we talked openly and honestly about the "why" that we aren't supposed to ask.  She admitted to me that she also wonders why, though she knows we aren't supposed to ask.  There are no answers but we agreed that it's human nature to want to know.  But I wonder  if we were able to know, would it only make the pain worse? 

   I can't begin to articulate the pain that parents feel when they lose a child.  It is both an emotional and physical pain.  At first, thankfully, I was in shock.  I couldn't have made it through those first few weeks if I hadn't been numb from the shock.   Then, it hit.  The crying, sobbing, chest crushing emotional pain.  It doesn't leave.  It's there all the time - it never leaves.  It hovers just under the surface of consciousness.  Small things trigger it and it takes over your thoughts and behavior.   Rose Kennedy said, “It has been said, 'time heals all wounds.' I do not agree. The wounds remain.  In time, the mind, protecting its sanity, covers them with scar tissue and the pain lessens.  But it is never gone."

   This past year has been, without a doubt, the most grief filled that I have experienced.  Three days after Ryan passed away, one of my 7th grade students was killed in a car accident.  It's strange because I hadn't experienced the sobbing, snot filled, can't breathe breakdown that I should have after losing Ryan. Probably the shock - but when I got the call about my student - it triggered it.  We were on our way home from the airport when I got the news. I had a complete meltdown.  My husband, JC, had to pull over and help me get it together.  Two visits from "Grief" in three days!  Why? Why? Why?  And my visits from "Grief" didn't end there.  Over the course of the year two of my school classmates have passed away.  I have a lost former sister-in-law, who had I had stayed good friends with.  I have lost two former students, only two weeks apart.  Why won't "Grief" leave me alone? 

   I know there are those who have suffered much more than me.  My sister-in-law and brother lost their two sons only five weeks apart.  The look of total devastation that I saw on my sister-in-law's face will haunt me the rest of my life.   She is a Godly woman who has never hurt anyone.  One of my classmates has lost two children and her husband.  She is one of the kindest, nicest people I know.  Why must she suffer so?   No matter how sorry I feel for myself, I know that it can never compare to their grief.  My Grandma Thelma outlived 5 children and 4 husbands but she never gave up.  She never withheld her love for fear of having her heart broken by loss.   I see stories on TV and read about parents who have lost all their children in one fell swoop.  I cannot imagine their pain.

   I admit, I wanted to lie down and die with Ryan.  I didn't want to live with the emotional pain, but I have a daughter who I love equally and I have 3 beautiful grandkids who I love dearly.  No one will ever replace Ryan and I will never stop loving him.  I wish he didn't always visit my memories with "Grief" by his side.  I know that as Rose Kennedy said, I will build some scar tissue and someday he will visit my memories with being accompanied by "Grief."    I long for that time to come - for now he only visits me alone in my dreams.  When I wake up, "Grief" is there to punch me in the gut.

   It is my wish that none of you experience the loss of a child.  It is also my wish that "Grief" stays out of your lives all together but I know that's not realistic.  Again, I don't know "why" he has visited me so many times this past year.  But I will not give up.  I will not allow distance to grow between those around me because I don't want the pain associated with loss, if something happens to them.  I will build that scar tissue.

   In loving memory of Ryan.  August 28, 1976 - September 5, 2014

I love you a bushel and a peck and a hug around the neck.