There are no rules in grieving, except...
Those that are set by other people.
We’ve been in Indiana for a month now. I’ve not yet seen my father. Not because I don’t love him or don’t want to see him, but because I’m not in the place to visit with other people just now.
So, we were supposed to go over last weekend, but I ended up working all day on Saturday and just wanted to take Sunday to decompress and do laundry and clean and etc. So, we didn’t go. And there was an idea (but nothing set in stone) that we may go over there this weekend, but by Friday, I knew I didn’t want to go anywhere.
Dad calls to firm up plans. I tell him that we’re not coming over. And, immediately I get to hear how I’m not the first person to lose someone. And he’s been where I have been (but in my estimation, he has not, not quite). And getting out would do me some good. And ... whatever. Because, as is so often the case in the past however many months, someone knows me better than I know myself. Knows what I need more than I know what I need. Has an idea that they know the cure to what ails me.
And then he makes it about our relationship, wants to know if there’s something between us that makes me not want to see him. There really isn’t, except now maybe this. Because his statements/inquiries are unfair and unwarranted.
Here’s the thing. My husband died. And, I had a front-row seat in that death. I have been forever altered, and while there is this idea that somehow I will be whole again someday, I don’t see it. I don’t feel it. Probably because of that front-row seating. Probably because one day my husband had hip pain and then not quite a year later he died. And it was awful.
It’s not that I don’t get it. Dad loves me. He wants to help. Of course he does. I’m a parent -- I do get it. But, on this side of things, I don’t need it. I don’t need to be fixed. Or, I do, but I know that no one can do it. I know that only time will make everything ok. And, by ok, I mean that time will make it to where I don’t feel sadness every time I turn around.
The worst thing about this isn’t that Dad thinks he knows what I need. The worst thing is that I have to BE GRACIOUS about his concern. This is the thing that kills me, over and over again. We, people who have experienced loss, get all kinds of bullshit thrown at us, when we’re at our most vulnerable. When we’re at the saddest moments of our lives. But, because people are “trying to help” and “their hearts are in the right place,” we cannot call a flag on the play. It’s just not good form to tell someone they’re off their rocker and full of shit and fuck you. That’s just not acceptable. But any old fuckery can come out of someone’s mouth and WE, the grieving, are supposed to be gracious about it? Do you know how unfair that is?
When I tell my oldest kid that I don’t want to go to Dad’s, she makes some bullshit, offhand remark about how she will do the same, just see me every few years. See, this is what I mean -- the expectation of how to handle grief. Even two people experiencing the “same” loss, don’t really experience it in the same way. He was her dad, but she deals with this in her way. He was my husband, and I deal with it in mine. Neither of us is wrong -- and maybe that’s what 45 gets you. Maybe 23 cannot see it. And sitting here with Zo (and Jake, who is a hermit), I’m not judging her for being in the Haute this weekend.
Anyhoo. I am still very much feeling the loss of my husband. And, I don’t owe anyone an explanation as to my behavior. Period.
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