Grey

Sunday, November 13, 2011

Yesterday was grey and gloomy.  I wanted to curl up on the couch with my Max and cuddle the day away.  I did the couch part pretty good.  I am liking grey and gloomy a whole lot better than all that sunshine that usually resides here.  Back to that whole Anderson Cooper theory of "matching your outsides to your insides".  I see everything through grey colored glasses.  There is no joy anymore.  This morning I found two grey hairs framing my face.  I have suspected for some time that they were in there.  Hiding in the back perhaps.  But, now there are just front and center, as they should be really.  Let's face it, I am not getting any younger over here.

I wanted to restate that we are seeing a grief counselor that we love.  For some reason, people have started asking that again, even though I know that I have said it.  Maybe you think we were seeing someone and then stopped?  My dad even asked me last week.  Our grief counselor comes to our home once a week, which is amazing.  She believes that we are exactly where we should be.  When I tell her that I cannot get off the couch, she answers "how could you?".  She has a lot of faith in us and our process.  Ted and I both look forward to our sessions with her.  We feel very strongly that she is on our team.  We believe that she wants to see us succeed and will support our path to "recovering" from this tragedy.

Also, I have been hearing a lot of, "People don't know what to say to you."  So, I thought that maybe I should just remind you what you can say to me.  It's actually probably just helpful to know what to say to anyone who is experiencing grief, not just us.  It is so much better to say something than to just ignore what has happened.  It is so much better to just say, "I am so sorry about Max".  You don't even have to say anything more than that.  "I am so sorry about Max" pretty much covers it.  If you are checking in, you could say, "how are you guys doing?" I know it is uncomfortable to acknowledge our grief but chances are, you really ARE sad about what happened to Max and that you really ARE wondering how we are doing.  If you aren't interested and don't care, we probably don't really need you in our lives.  If you are uncomfortable addressing the sadness we feel, think about how uncomfortable we probably are.  I am not going to make you talk about him if you don't want to, but I welcome talking about him if you can handle it.  It is ok to talk about Max.  He was an innocent, adorable, wonderful little baby boy.  It is actually a little weird to me that nobody can say his name.  You aren't going to "make me sad" or "remind me" that my baby died.  You do not have that much power.  I am already sad and I think about it all of the time.  It's pretty much all I think about.  While you are trying to distract me, I am usually thinking, "this person is trying to distract me.  I wish they would mention Max."  Also, it has got to be exhausting and awkward for you to work that hard to try and make me forget.  A mother will not forget her child.  It is just impossible.  Doesn't matter how funny or interesting you are, you are attempting the impossible.   I actually think it would be a whole lot less painless to just say, "I am so sorry about Max".  Again, sadly, I am probably not the last person you will meet who is in excruciating amounts of pain all day and night because of grief.  Everyone dies and not everyone does it peacefully at age 90 in their sleep (and by the way, many of you have even recently told me about the intense grief you have felt around your 90 year old mother/father/grandmother/grandfather who passed away in their sleep.  Again, just IMAGINE how we feel.)  You might even be the one who has to experience the complicated grief, but I sure hope not.  Anyway, "I am so sorry about Max."  It's pretty easy actually.  Maybe if you know you are going to see me, you can just say it to yourself a few times so that it comes more naturally.  I promise, it will make everything that comes after that sentence flow a whole lot more naturally and you probably even feel a lot better about the experience too. Go ahead, rip off the band aid.  I promise it won't hurt you as much as you think.

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