Death Doesn't Take a Break

We received word, earlier this morning, that our friend passed away. She was doing better, even just a few minutes before her passing. The flu! Who dies of the flu in 2014? We were also reminded, as we called another family member to tell them: Today is four weeks to the day that Dad passed away. 

They say that life goes on. But you know what? So does death. Death doesn't take a break when you're trying to put your life back together. While you're trying to find a new normal, it doesn't stop. And sometimes it doesn't even give you a second to breathe. Or to grieve.

They say that there are five stages of loss and grief:

• Denial and isolation
• Anger
• Bargaining
• Depression
• Acceptance

I'm sure that this is true for many people. And I would imagine that, at some point, we will hit them. But I also know that there is nothing normal about the way we have managed the last years or our lives. So who is to say that our grieving and coping will be in any way normal, as well?

I don't feel angry. I feel sad. I find nothing to bargain about. There's the (every now and again) question about if we did all we could - but we can very quickly answer yes. I don't feel depressed. I feel like with what we have gone through so far? We're coping at what I would call very natural and healthy levels. I don't deny what happened. I was there. I saw it and felt it and experienced it up close and personal. 

That leaves us with acceptance and isolation. I believe I accept what happened. I know that there's nothing more we could have done. I don't know if I want to say that I accept it because I still feel sad. I still feel like there's a lot of empty in my heart and my life. But I accept it happened and that this was what was probably the way that it should have happened, given all the circumstances. 

The isolation part is the worst, I think. I would like to be left alone. But it's just not possible. Because there's life. And there's death. They both keep moving. And you can't just ignore them. If you could, we'd probably be a society full of people with blinders on. Who don't care about what happened, at least in perception. I know I have unreturned phone calls. I know I haven't texted some people back. I know that I haven't found it in myself to really focus on repairing the relationships that were broken along the way of the last few years. I just don't feel like I have it in me, yet. 

Friends have asked me to meet them, or to go out. And some days? I can do it. But other days the prospect of dealing with the outside world, on a day I don't have to? It's suffocating. 

I say none of this for pity. Because I don't need any. I have a good life, great family, caring friends, people who love and support me - I know they get it. I say it so that if anyone reading this has a friend like me - they can stop and take a moment to realize that. Maybe they really do want to go out with you. Perhaps they'd love to have a drink, or go for coffee. It's likely they would really enjoy going out to dinner with you. But sometimes? It's just too much. 

The exhaustion that comes with putting on your public face and going outside every day is hard enough. Sometimes you just need a break. And we live in a society that makes you feel pressured to be normal. They make you wonder if, after four weeks, you should be coping better. To anyone dealing with a situation like that? I can tell you, from four weeks out - it isn't enough time. And you know what, that's okay! We all move at different paces. But don't hate the people who want you to be "normal" by now. I think it's all they know. A lot of people haven't dealt with a loss that takes over their being. And it's uncomfortable. Put yourself in their position: how do you respond to that? You know words aren't enough. And you can't imagine what they're going through. Their offer to take you out for dinner and drinks - it isn't because they don't care about your grief. It isn't because you aren't allowed to still be sad. It's because they want to let you know that they're there. And that's a good feeling.

Coping isn't just something that the person who lost someone goes through. It's something that has an effect on everyone around them. And they're just trying to get through it with you, too. 

Life is short. We've learned that twice in the last 4 weeks. Embrace all the moments. The sadness, the grief - it only means you had something to love enough to grieve for. And that? That's an amazing feeling. Even if it means I haven't called you back, or gone out with you yet, or responded to your text message. (I'll get to them all. Someday soon. Promise.) 

And since it's Throwback Thursday? Let's enjoy this amazing picture of Dad trying a kumquat for the first time on December 4, 2011. I appreciate it more because that's how I feel about this whole situation. A bit like it's a sour situation, for sure.