I know my grief lasts longer then you like. This morning I woke up, the sun was shining, the excitement was setting in about graduation, and I had slept mostly through the night on shift, which is always something that puts a smile on my face when my alarm rings. I was however reminded very early, in the morning sleepy haze, that today has been two years since one of my oldest and best friends Alisha, went to be with Jesus.
I knew it was coming, because facebook has been showing me my "memories" every morning of the updates I was sharing, begging for prayers and thoughts as my friend struggled on a ventilator. If anyone was going to pull through it and defeat the odds, it would have been her. But alas, this morning, two years ago today I read a facebook post, in black and white, that she was gone. From this world.
I still talk about it, and write about it, and blog about it because well... it still hurts. The same as that morning, when she crosses my mind and I have to remind myself she is gone, the pit in my stomach is still there. The lump in my throat still chokes me up, certain songs still make me cry hard enough I have to pull my car over, and sometimes a picture can make me feel like curling in a fetal position.
Most of my close friends let me do it. I'll never forget at the George Strait concert, when Martina McBride started to sing "I'm going to love you through it". I don't even think she got past the first three cords before I instantly started bawling. Kari didn't even have to look at me, she just threw her arms around me, holding me so tight, it was like she was trying to hold my pieces together. She didn't have to say a word. She knew she had to let me feel everything I was feeling, and I knew she was there, ready and willing to glue me back together when I couldn't do it myself. There are few who are walking with me through my confusion, anger, and hurt. Family and close friends that let me feel what I need to, when I feel it, without trying to fix it or me.
On the other hand, I know my grief makes most of you uncomfortable. You who aren't in the trenches with me. I understand that you're just trying to fix my situation, it is natural. You don't like that I am hurting or sad. I feel like after the initial showing of support, when your lives go back to normal, you assume mine will too. Here is a clue... mine did not. Saying things like "She's in a better place", "You will see him again", "She doesn't hurt anymore". These things aren't helpful, and actually they are kind of hurtful. It feels like you are invalidating my feelings. Like I'm crazy for allowing it to still hurt. Something I've learned in my life thus far is all feelings involved in grieving are valid. Every. Single. Emotion. They count, no matter if they come the day after or 20 years down the road of a loved one leaving this earth. They count. There is no time stamp of grief. Loss will forever change you, and things can never go back to how they used to be. They just can't. And we just have to find a new normal. Where sometimes I cry for reasons unknown to you. And sometimes I need a quiet moment, by myself to pull myself back together. And that means, sometimes, you will just have to be uncomfortable.
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