There is no shame in grief…

I type and delete. Type and delete. The words used to just spill out, now I type and delete. I circle back to my favorite quote from C. S. Lewis,

“First, I do not sit down at my desk to put into verse something that is already clear in my mind. If it were clear in my mind, I should have no incentive or need to write about it. We do not write in order to be understood; we write in order to understand.” C. S. Lewis

Typing that quote, I hear something so different than what I have heard before, we don’t write to be understood. I have to let go of the fear of being misunderstood, it doesn’t matter if anyone else understands, these are my truths of grief.

Writing was a way for me to reveal to myself truths about grief and the lifelong journey of grief. A journey I do not want to be on, but I don’t have a choice. I get pissed when I read that we can chose what triggers us, that we can chose what thoughts crowd our mind. I get pissed when I read or hear someone say, “don’t think about it, don’t dwell on it.”

Here’s the thing. I don’t chose my triggers. I don’t chose those thoughts that come out of the blue and derail my brain. Let me share an example.

We are in the car, I see a dead deer on the side of the road. I hate seeing dead animals. And in a second, I am thinking of Justin dead in his car. I am thinking that I am viewing the dead deer, but I didn’t view Justin’s body. I am thinking of standing in the funeral home with his body just down the hall, I could have viewed him before his body was transported to the church chapel. I wish I had viewed his body. Fifteen years later, I regret not viewing his body, seeing his face. I regret not seeing that mop of curls that the funeral director promised me he had washed all the silt and mud from his hair.

And that happens in seconds. I didn’t chose that thought pattern, I did not chose those memories, those are triggered memories and thoughts. What I can chose is which skill I employ to coax my brain to ease its grip and focus on the present moment. That is what I have control over, how to navigate back to the present moment. And those triggers can happen a dozen times a day, or none at all.

I don’t chose to have a day where the grief wave consumes me, no one would chose those days. They just happen. And there is no shame in having hard days. Why is there shame cast on bereaved parents if they admit to having hard days? Even after fifteen years, goodness aren’t you over it yet? I had one on Saturday. We dress the graves each Christmas season of my eldest brother, my parents, and Justin. We visit a local farm and buy beautiful fresh wreaths, I make bows, then we make the trip to the graveyard. My heart broke standing on the wet grass of Justin’s grave, its physical pain wrapping around my heart like a fist, its been so long since I have seen his smile or heard his laugh. I never got ahead of my grief that day, but I knew if I invited it in, nurtured it, made space for it, embraced it, the hollowness would ease. And it did by the next morning. There is no shame in sitting with and holding your own heart with tenderness for a day after doing something hard like standing over your child’s grave and remembering what you dressed them in for burial. And worrying that they are warm enough – logical, no – but isn’t that a mother’s heart? We never stop being their mom. Grief isn’t logical, its love.

Be kind to you, always. Err on the side of kindness when holding your own heart. And when you do hard things, and you can’t breathe for the pain in the your chest, be gentle with yourself. There is no shame in grief, you are a warrior on a battle ground that no one else can see. Even warriors rest.