Breathing

Today I find that I am breathing in short little breaths. I realize I have been breathing this way for some time. I feel that if I took a deep breath I might blow away this carefully constructed world I have made for myself since Colby passed. Then I would fall apart. Again.

People comment on how well I am doing, how good I look. I can tell how relieved they are that they do not need to worry about me anymore; they can get back to their own lives, their own worries. This is okay by me because I do not want them to know how fragile I really am.

Masks. Many grieving parents I talk to say their life revolves around wearing masks. Here's the happy mask for the grandchild, the caring mask for a spouse who is also grieving. Here's the work mask, and the flat, stone-faced mask for the grocery store. We laugh, we function and some way some day we begin to do better. But that day is years down the road for me, and also for many of the grieving parents I know.

We are afraid to show the world who we really are these days not only because it makes others uncomfortable, but because if we allowed ourselves to be us, really us, maybe we couldn't function at all. So I breathe, in and out, shallowly, carefully, so as not to disturb the fragile threads that are my life.

Masks

As we head into Thanksgiving, masks are a hot topic in my online support group. Other grieving parents specifically talk about the masks we wear in public to make people think we are doing okay, that we are coping, getting on with life, functioning. Then we get home, or company leaves, or we hang up the phone and we take the mask off. That's when we fall apart. Completely, uncontrollably. It doesn't matter if our child passed yesterday or six years ago yesterday. The grief is still overwhelming. We are still crying ourselves to sleep every single night. The loss is still far greater than anyone should ever have to bear.

This removing of the mask happens dozens of times a day. The good news is that we have all progressed far enough in our grief that we are able to hold things together for short periods of time. If we have to. But the toll that takes is so great that the build up of emotion then explodes. So, rather than staying on an even keel of grief that progresses slowly, every grieving parent I have spoken with rides this huge roller coaster of emotion. How I wish all of us could stop this thing and get off.

But we can't. I get emails every day from people all around the world who read this blog. If you have a friend or family member who has suffered an exceptional loss at any time, during this holiday season:

1. Please mention the loved one's name frequently.
2. Spend time talking with the person about their loved one.
3. It's okay if they cry. In fact, it is healing if they do.
4. Offer your support, but do not be offended if they do not accept it. That you offered is enough.
5. Do not judge their method of grieving. Everyone does it differently.
6. Recognize that past loss can be as raw as new loss, especially during the holidays.
7. Do not force people to "get out." Sometimes it is better to stay home.
8. The best gift is the gift of remembrance. Remembering the loved one is the best gift you can give to someone who is grieving.