“Mom, it’s awful knowing I will be this sad again.” Profound thoughts from my fourteen-year-old.
One of the worst parts of grief is knowing you will go through it again.
Going through the grieving process again might be a bearable thought if there was any indication I would be better at it the next time around. For instance, it would be nice to be able to skip the “would have/could have” hole I am currently climbing out of. I did not ride in the ambulance with Joe. I drove because I had every intention of picking Cole up from school at 3pm when we left the hospital. Not riding in the ambulance haunts me. I’m doubtful the grief experience is something you improve on. The boobie prize might be knowing you can and will live through it.
Joe once told me the story of standing next to his brother at his mother’s funeral when his brother said, “God, I can’t believe we will have to do this again.” Joe said his inner rage was so intense, he could barely stop from punching his brother on the spot. The “knowing” you will have to feel the pain of losing someone else who means the world to you hits below the belt.
Grief gurus write about the five stages of grief: Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, and Acceptance. While I did not go to the mountain, and all my training has been on-the-job, I’m pretty sure they missed one. I’m adding a “THIS SUCKS” stage. During this stage, you look at everyone you love and care about and think, “You’re going to die and I hate you.” If you are with someone experiencing the “THIS SUCKS” stage, I would strongly suggest you not point out that they could, in fact, die first. Instead, reassure them you just won’t die, ever. Pinkie-swear it! Rationality and grief don’t have much in common.
Anything to add?
The ambulance. Forget about it.
Joe, I was numb with fear. The fireman told me it was bad, but I just could not give up the hope driving myself offered.
Hope. Faith. Who could ask for anything more?