Tuesday, September 30, 2014

Same Old {Grief} Story

We're seriously closing in on four years since Andrew died. The quick update?

I'm still sad and angry about him dying. I know sadness is the primary emotion, but anger comes out most often it seems. Acceptance doesn't appear to be near or even possible.

I don't mask anything well, so if you talk to me on a regular basis, you'll likely sense the anger and sadness when I talk about him. I'm just still so beside myself.

I'm mostly busy and super thankful to have his brother and sister to drive me nuts and amaze me everyday, but if you asked if I was happy or content, I would honestly never choose those words.

Someone asked me the other day if everything was going great with us, as if the alternative was something horrific or saddening. And really, things are going as great as can be with two kids. Except, the obvious knowledge of us really having three means that no, everything will never equal going great like, ever. There's always an addendum, it seems, to our happiness. I know we're not the only ones who've experienced tragic loss, and I'm aware that many people live with that similar addendum.

At nearly 4 years out, I'm still angry with God, even though I don't believe he saves us from harm or is the one who inflicts. I think he is supposed to be a comfort, simply put. I do believe God showed up in other people after Andrew died. The nurses who were doing a lot of the dirty work for us, the friends who showed up in such a horrible situation to offer their presence when they probably just wanted to flee the scene, the strangers who sent cards, and the list continues. I think I'm most angry with God because I don't know who else to be angry with.

I rarely cry. The tears are there occasionally and flood like a river. But mostly, they're absent.

Being at home with the kids can make things even harder, ironically. I have my hands full, but my brain is not full of anything but tasks. The intellectual stimulation is lacking because time does not allow for much of that, which then allows for sadness to creep in. This mom job can be really lonely in itself, and then even more lonely when you know you're missing 1/3 of your kids.

It's a cooler fall day here. The grief season is approaching.

15 comments:

Brooke said... [Reply to comment]

I think you are totally right that being at home with the kids keeps my grief closer to the surface it prevents me from being deeply distracted by more complex tasks or problems. Even the best parts of staying home highlight what (who) is missing. And you know I'm heading into the grief season right with you.

second floor dweller said... [Reply to comment]

I can see what you mean about distractions and complexity. I'm really sorry for the screwed up equation here. It sucks.

Laura Jane said... [Reply to comment]

I love you and your family. Five Wilsons, all my favourites.

I hear you. I've been feeling it creeping up on me and it stings. I think I've "Accepted" it as much as I ever will, but more in the concrete, "it happened and now we live without him for the rest of our lives". If I think about it too long I have difficulty believing we have been served such a shitty hand.

Because there are so many people who have no idea and believe dreams really do come true. And I can't ever have my dream now.

gah.

SSM said... [Reply to comment]

I havne't been on here in a while life is busy.
Thinking of you! xo

Sarah said... [Reply to comment]

I agree that it is harder being home. Your options for adult companionship are usually other young moms who neither want to nor can relate to what you've been through. Part of me will be incredibly sad to have the baby phase end, but the other part of me knows that life will be easier emotionally when we're all past having babies.

And just know that we all realize you are a mom to three and that you are loving all three daily.

Alison G. said... [Reply to comment]

Well said. I can imagine that those times when just being a mom is so hard and monotonous that missing your baby makes it downright unbearable. I miss you and your entire family, even the little ones I haven't met.

Amelia said... [Reply to comment]

Grief season. Truer words have never been written. Impending doom is how I feel. How will I survive this yet again? How will I survive this 20 years from now?

My New Normal said... [Reply to comment]

I know how you feel. While I'm so grateful that I can stay home with my living kids, I do think the long days lend themselves to reflecting on the one who is missing. I cry all the time, but in short bursts and often for no apparent reason. I can't tell if it's my grief, or just post partum hormones.

Veronica said... [Reply to comment]

The part about being a mom being a lonely job in itself hit me a bit. And today, it being cold and gloomy... being a sahm this winter - in toddler town - is already letting thoughts of getting down all the time creep in as outdoor activity and interaction are golden in the warmer months..

The anger and not accepting ... I could repeat what you said word for word. And even the god stuff.

I'm glad we have each other. It's not enough.. but something <\3

Melissa said... [Reply to comment]

This resonated in me. Thank you Brandy. So much truth here.

LookItsJessica said... [Reply to comment]

Sooo agreed. I remember years ago when all we wanted was to finally be at home with our living kids. And while it is wonderful, there are often a lot of spare moments to think, wonder, wish... (some days.) Grief season. How has is been almost 4 years?

Tiffany said... [Reply to comment]

#truth

Oct is here and I'm gasping for air. ­čśö

Mama Bear said... [Reply to comment]

I appreciate your honest truths. I'm right there with you. Anger, disbelief, mostly sadness. Love to your ABC.

Tiffany said... [Reply to comment]

isn't this the complete and shitty truth.

Julie said... [Reply to comment]

I'm not even going to read everyone else's comments because I don't want them to color my own.

I wish I'd written this. Because I want to plagiarize it word for word (except the parts about two living kids, but hopefully that will come). And I just wanted to say that Anger was my primary emotion in the year leading up to 4 as well. This year, coming on 5, it has been anxiety almost immediately turning into numbness and shock again as we get closer to dreaded, bare, can't-breathe December.
But I find it utterly comforting in a "I didn't know I needed to hear someone else say it so much" kind of way that you wouldn't use the words happy or content to describe yourself, even with all the good things you (we) have now.
Me either. And I don't know that I ever will either. And I 'm damn glad to know I'm not alone in that, the feeling of forever broken and okay but never the same sort of happy I once knew. Changed in a way that can't be fixed.
I just appreciated this post so much. I practically want to print it! Will be coming back to read it again (and again), I promise you that.
Thank you Brandy.