I want you to meet Jane. She works at the local grocery store. All day long she rings up customers. She asks about your day, she makes sure to handle your eggs with care, she always smiles and tells you to have a great day. Many times people respond in kind, saying thank you and have a great day, too!
But they never really see Jane. For she is grieving a loss so big, it overwhelms her. On her breaks, she usually goes to the back room and cries. On her way home from the store, her friendly smile disappears. Her shoulders slump. She parks her dented car in the garage and sits there. Finally she drags herself out and into her empty house. She pets her cat who rubs up against her legs, takes off her coat, and goes to sit in her comfy chair that has a table next to it. She stares into space for a moment, sighing and settling in. Then she takes the framed picture of her late husband and hugs it to her chest. Hi Henry she says, I miss you. And she feels hollow and sad until she finally places it back lovingly on the table and goes to make a small meal for herself.
And meet Steve. He is one tall, athletic handsome man. He has a great job, a beautiful wife, a bright daughter, a great house and a very fancy car. He is always so gregarious, his smile infective. If you didn’t know anything about him, you may find yourself envious. For he seems all of that.
But Steve is just a shell. He lost his teenaged son in a tragic mishap years ago. But he has not moved on. He has no closure. He is always an open wound. He sees another young man and thinks about how much he has missed watching his own son grow up. He tries to count his many blessings, but they just do not add up enough to erase his pain.
Then there is June. She’s 10 years old and a mischief maker. She finds fault with everything. Sometimes she’s a bully at school. Sometimes she’s mean to her dog. Her mother doesn’t always know what to do. June sulks in her room. She doesn’t want to go to birthday parties or join in with the neighborhood kids. She’s a loner people say.
But June has pain. Her dad left and she’s angry. She misses him so much. She cannot talk about it to her mom because it makes her mom too sad. Her brother is older and pretends it’s all ok and he seems fine. So June feels lost and alone. And she hears those neighborhood kids talk about their dads too much. And it’s too much for her tattered soul, so she withdraws.
This happens every single day and affects almost everyone you see. We think we have moved on from our own pain and live our lives just fine, thank you very much. But have we really? Do we not often live like empty shells at times or crumple in pain and sorrow when the night is dark and we are alone with only our thoughts and memories?
Not allowing grief is something we do. We act as though after a certain amount of time we need to put it all away and move on. But that’s the funny part of grief, it just moves with you. Sometimes you think, I’m ok. It’s ok. Then you see something that sparks a small, hidden memory and those flood gates open again.
Why do we hate sadness? Why do we not want to talk about death? Do we think we can sidestep it somehow by pretending it doesn’t really exist? Why do we treat grief like a clinical diagnosis and try to “cure it?” Do we think it makes people sad if we say we miss their loved one? Why are we always trying to cheer people up?
I think it makes people sad when we do not acknowledge their loved one and understand their pain. Bringing it up doesn’t cause more pain, it makes us better humans. Remembering a loved one on the anniversary of their death is not a sad reminder of loss, but a celebration of a life we just happen to miss.
So, be gentle with yourself and your grief. It’s ok to be sad. It’s ok to know others are sad, too. It will make you feel less alone, less like you are living a life of quiet desperation. Because we all are really. Each and every one of us. And our grief is as unique as each one of us is.
So, meet me, Janice. I miss my parents so much. Did you know I cry often about that? Even at my age, I still miss Mom and Dad. And my favorite Uncle Joe, who died way too soon. I miss him a lot. There are some days it overwhelms me. And I have a great life, with a wonderful husband and daughter and work I love and family I adore. But I feel sad, too. I don’t have to express it every minute, and I don’t. But I embrace that it’s there and it offers me comfort. It’s not something I need to cure or medicate or move on from. It is part of who I am. And it makes me a better Janice. Because these are the memories who made me who I am.
So, when you see someone having a bad day, give them a smile or a hug. At least give them your understanding. We really are all in this together and no one escapes it. Some of us are just better at hiding it, that’s all.
“”It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye” ~ Antoine de Saint-Exupery
Thanks for this reminder of life's griefs, and how they don't go away. They move with us. And sadness is always with us, forgetting how sad we are about our lost ones is like forgetting them.