So the funeral, memorial service or celebration of life is over, the last of the neighbor's gifted casseroles have been eaten or given away and you've tossed out all the flower arrangements with their overly sweet scented, faded blooms. Now what?
Some of us have dreaded this moment....the one where we suddenly find ourselves all alone with our grief while others have been counting the minutes until they can finally have some privacy to begin their healing process. Again, I must point out that no two grief experiences are the same. Just as we are all unique as individuals, so are our grief experiences. I like to point this out frequently in an attempt to show people that pre-conceived notions and judgements about the grief journey really have no place in our lives if we truly want to heal and grow from our experience. There is no such thing as a neat and tidy list like "the stages of grief". No matter what all the books say, I am here to tell you that it doesn't work that way. While these lists can certainly serve us by providing a sort of "baseline" of things we might expect to experience, the actual grieving process itself is messy and does not necessarily follow rules.
For instance, I remember wanting to be left alone after my son's suicide. I only wanted my fiance near me and occasionally my sister...the 2 people I was closest to at the time. I can recall feeling agitated that I continued to receive "sympathy" cards weeks after the death....as if the community needed to remind me that my son was dead.....as if that wasn't all I thought about, every minute of every day. The irony of this is that a couple of months later I would feel "abandoned" by everyone because suddenly all the cards and calls stopped coming. I felt like I had been dropped off on a deserted island and left there while the rest of humanity went on about their daily lives without me. I felt completely disconnected from everyone and everything.
My daughter's death, on the other hand, followed a long illness. She lived here in my home where I managed her hospice care myself along with a team of loving friends and family members. Since this was an "expected death", the grieving process was one of a kinder, gentler nature. While I still felt exhausted and drained from the months and months of stress I lived with, I wanted people around me after her death. I enjoyed spending time with people who knew her and I loved to hear their stories. It allowed me to see the woman my daughter was through the eyes of others. These were two totally different experiences and I responded to them each quite differently.
For instance, I remember wanting to be left alone after my son's suicide. I only wanted my fiance near me and occasionally my sister...the 2 people I was closest to at the time. I can recall feeling agitated that I continued to receive "sympathy" cards weeks after the death....as if the community needed to remind me that my son was dead.....as if that wasn't all I thought about, every minute of every day. The irony of this is that a couple of months later I would feel "abandoned" by everyone because suddenly all the cards and calls stopped coming. I felt like I had been dropped off on a deserted island and left there while the rest of humanity went on about their daily lives without me. I felt completely disconnected from everyone and everything.
My daughter's death, on the other hand, followed a long illness. She lived here in my home where I managed her hospice care myself along with a team of loving friends and family members. Since this was an "expected death", the grieving process was one of a kinder, gentler nature. While I still felt exhausted and drained from the months and months of stress I lived with, I wanted people around me after her death. I enjoyed spending time with people who knew her and I loved to hear their stories. It allowed me to see the woman my daughter was through the eyes of others. These were two totally different experiences and I responded to them each quite differently.
Picking up the Pieces
