Too Many Words. Not Enough Words.

John - JRTC at FT Polk

Words and more words.  I can't tell you how many posts I've written lately and haven't published, or I deleted them altogether.   I submitted a couple to grief sites, just because I'm drowning in them. Usually writing helps me process, but life has been unusually dark lately and nothing that's coming off the keyboard feels quite right.  

Don't worry, I didn't send in the super sarcastic ones, with titles such as:  Leper, Snarky Grief, and I Wish I Couldn't Imagine, they are still in the draft file. They are TMI and word vomit.  I read one to my husband the other day -  he cautioned me not to share it.  😳There are too many words and at the same time not enough words.  Not enough of the right words.  No words to take the pain of losing John away.

I found this picture of him in his iCloud.  Unfortunately, when the police released his phone, it wouldn't work anymore.  I had gone through it previously, but I was sad that I couldn't turn it on and see his last text, song, photo, etc.  This photo was from his Army training in Louisiana.  His buddies had some great stories to tell about that time.  I love hearing every word.  They had quite an adventure.

I process through this darkness with words.  And I know that John was similar.  He wasn't a big reader, but he sure loved a good quote or funny meme, or a line from a movie.  His memory for remembering was far superior to mine!  And while I need to talk things through to understand them, he was often very silent on his own feelings, but totally engaged in listening to yours.  He could tell how I was doing in an instant. He spent many hours counseling friends, or just sitting with them.

There was an album on his phone labeled funny;). But it mostly wasn't funny.  They were all meme's or screenshots - a few were funny, they totally showed his sense of humor, but mainly they were pain and sadness, depression and loneliness.  It broke my heart.  Here are a couple examples of what I saw:

So, my world has been a little dark of late. Yes, I've been isolating, even though all the books say not to.  I have lots of questions that only John can answer, and John isn't here. The words in that "funny" album are hard to deal with. Hard to take in. Too much pain and sadness.  I wish I could tell you that I've learned how I could have changed it.  How I could have spoken life into him or took away his pain and self-loathing.  But I haven't.  

If I could go back, even with what I now know, I don't know that I could have changed anything. I know that he had a hard time expressing what he was feeling - and that if he started to tell you something, you shouldn't butt in, or try to speak into what he was trying to say.  He hated that.  He wanted to be heard, without interruption, without the person trying to figure out their next line - just listen, take it in, give it a few minutes to settle, and then answer - if he was asking for an answer.  Isn't that what we all hope for?

But most people are too busy trying to be right, anxious to give advice, or happily pointing out your faults instead of really listening. We have to be different. We are such a defensive and self-righteous society - and we all think we have the answers.  And we don't. Because we are all still struggling. 

Death and drugs aren't fun topics. Let's face it, the only ones who might be excited to read a blog or hear a TED talk on loss are the people struggling with loss. But for the bereaved, they can be lifelines.  It keeps you from feeling completely alone in the grief.  It isn't a topic everyone can converse about, fortunately, or that anyone who hasn't experienced can truly understand.  

One TedTalk I heard recently was from a fellow Minnesotan. (I'll post a link below).  She was a bit snarky, funny, brutally honest, and her words really resonated with me.  I love the title of her podcast as well: "Terrible, Thanks for Asking".  Brilliant.  Check it out.  Again, not making many friends with a comeback like that - but at least it's honest.  It's exactly what I'd like to say, but I continue to find the word "good" coming out each time I'm asked.  And every time I think, what a liar.  

Another TedTalk I listened to was by the most darling Irish doctor with the best accent.  John was the absolute best at accents.  He made us laugh so hard.  He was hilarious. It was so much fun to watch him with his sister. The two of them together were such a hoot.  I'll never forget the time we jumped on a bus at a hotel in Mexico - and rode it into town with the locals.  John was standing, and he hit his head.  He grabbed it in his hands and spouts off something dramatic in Spanish about the injury - he even had the locals laughing.  We miss his "Mother Russia" routines.  And he did a mean impression of Sarah Palin.  

His laugh was contagious, and he enjoyed it when others were having a good time.  He had little noises he made when he was laughing.  One of the videos he had saved to his phone captured his voice, and when I heard that - it made it feel like he was right here with me. He had a sharp wit and a quick comeback, always.  He could keep a straight face too - and was known for his sarcasm, and for pointing out the obvious. 

So what's my point today?  I'm not sure I have one.  I just feel as though this 18-month mark should be documented.  John has been gone for 18 months today and I want to remember exactly how this day felt.  Grief sucks.  I am tired.  I feel guilty that I haven't been to the cemetery since the snow finally melted. My stomach hurts a lot.  I'm tired of crying. 

I'm tired of that anxious fight or flight feeling I get if I'm out and things are starting to feel weird. I'm tired of headaches from holding back tears and lumps in my throat. I'm tired of overthinking and feeling like I need to explain to anyone what I do or don't do.  Why I say yes to something and no to something else.  I'm tired of being hard on myself.  For being a literal sponge for all the feelings in the world around me.   

I'm not getting better at faking it but I am getting better at boundaries.  I need to get better at boundaries.  The elephant is still in the room. But he's my elephant and I love him.  I would have given everything for him. My life for him. So, ignoring this isn't going to work. Minimizing this isn't going to work. 

I can't go through my day pretending he didn't exist and it isn't fair to ask me to.  I also can't go through the day pretending I'm okay.  I'm going to continue to process this, indefinitely.  If I've learned anything, it's that the grief of child loss lasts a lifetime.  So, I'm going to write about him, post about him, talk about him and continue to love him like any mom would.  I hope you'll help me keep him close.  And if you can't - well there's the door . . . 😏 

I throw that in for the blog I read today from a young woman who lost a baby and is getting grief over continuing to post about it on social media.  People are telling her to move on and they refuse to hit the "like" button on anything she posts or writes in regard to the loss.  How immature.  How calculating.  I suppose they are trying to somehow teach her that they only want to see positive and encouraging posts?  I don't know. I don't understand it.   I relate to the difficulty of putting yourself out there, and I wish people could understand how completely and impossibly hard it is.  She's helping other women who have lost children to feel understood and she wants to remember her son, she wants to talk about that child she loved and lost just as much as you want to talk about your living child.  Can't they honor that?  Don't be a troll.  Can you imagine how well it would go over if people told you that you were posting too much about your kids on your social media?  That you posted one too many prom pictures this week?  That your happy family photos were offending someone?  I mean seriously.  

Be kind.  Don't try to fix grieving people.  Just support them. Be glad you aren't them. 🖤



Ted Talk:  Nora McInery "We don't move on from grief, we move forward with it"
https://www.ted.com/talks/nora_mcinerny_we_don_t_move_on_from_grief_we_move_forward_with_it?utm_campaign=tedspread&utm_medium=referral&utm_source=tedcomshare