16 07 2009

Much is said about grief over the death of someone near and dear. Many articles in magazines as well as books have been written about the actual  act of grief and how to get through that time in your life. Those first few days, weeks and months are definitely hard to live through. First, you must face the certainty that someone is gone from your life. Then there is an adjustment of sorts. That goes on until your life is put back on track. Then there is a period of some depressing thoughts, perhaps wishing you had done something differently when you had the chance.

But the reality of grief is not any of these things. It is the lonesomeness, the wishing you could tell that someone special about something that happened to you. The sharing of a thought or a smile or an event.  And the knowing you cannot share with that person. That is the true feeling of grief and it never goes away.

My mother died in 1997.  When one of my grandchildren was born in 2000, I wanted desperately to tell my mother about the new baby. I knew I could not. Yet, the thought persisted all that day. From 8:30 that morning until bedtime, I had the urgent feeling that I NEEDED to call my mother and tell her about that new baby. It was such an exciting event and I wanted to share it with the person who would have been the great grandmother. I just HAD to call her. I just HAD to tell her about it. Every time I thought about the baby, I wanted to call my mother. In fact, at one point, I even went to the telephone, picked up the receiver and then realized that I could no longer dial that number.

I am not an overly sensitive person. I do not cry at movies, do not whine about events, do not normally shed tears about much of anything. So the actual grieving will have to be left to others. I have no time for that sort of thing. But I do feel that aloneness, that wishing I could share my life. It’s not about important things. It is the little things of life that I want to tell someone about. Like when I went to the store and ran into someone from a long time ago. When I rush home, I want to tell my husband who I saw and what was said. And he is not there.

To me, that is what grieving is all about.