Last month, my co-worker's wife passed away after a yr. and a half battle with melanoma. When I heard the news, I cried my eyes out. She was 59 yrs old, was married and had 4 grown sons and a darling 2yr old grandson. I cried because I knew how much she was loved and that she was going to be dearly missed. And they don't make them any better than my co-worker, Tommy. He is absolutely one of the nicest people that I have ever met; and his boys are just like him. In support of him I attended the family/visitation hour and was amazed at their strength and how well they were holding up. Kinda funny, but I don't even REMEMBER my Daddy's visitation.......I think I just went numb. Not long after, Tommy returned to work because he said he wanted to get in a routine and not just sit at the house and mourn. He brought pictures of her to work and talked openly about her and responded to all the sympathy notes, emails, etc.. he had received. He talked about his worry for his sons and how they were holding up. He doesn't act like nothing happened, he shows his hurt but also his hope and appreciation for the time they spent together.
This made me think of how I have grieved when people close to me passed away. How did I respond, did I respond, and was it healthy? Let's think............I lost my birth mother when I was 4 yrs. old, so I don't remember how I grieved. I only remember pieces of parts of that time in my life. I mostly remember my Dad doing my hair and working late. I don't remember us discussing my birth mother or what happened. I honestly still don't know, some kind of virus. She was 29yrs. old.
My Grandaddy Lewis passed away when I was in the 2nd grade. Every since I could remember, he had muscular dystrophy and wasn't able to walk, talk or do anything for himself. My grandmother was his care taker and my cousin and I would put on plays and dances for him. Now that I think about it, he and my Daddy had the same smile. I didn't really grieve then either, but I definitely saw how it affected my family. Everyone was crying.
When I was sixteen, I lost my Pap-Paw, one of the first men I ever loved. He used to take me riding in his truck on Sundays and buy me M&M's....he had an early bedtime ritual of reading the paper and watching t.v. and I would always jump in his bed and play with him.....he used to make my brothers take me places...In him, I saw a strong, vocal man who took care of his family. And though he had the description of a hard mean fellow, he was a big teddy bear...especially with me :) This one was hard on me because I realized how young he was, and how none of us have forever. I cried and was sad, but didn't talk about it much. I kind of internalized my pain.
Then July 9th, 2001 I got a call that my Daddy was in the hospital and I needed to get home right away. I was doing an internship in NY. My father died of an aneurysm at 49yrs old. The first man I ever loved, the one who stood as an outstanding example of love, kindness, humbleness and compassion was now gone. On the outside, I held up great. I cried, but didn't break down....I laughed at jokes, mingled with the family, etc...But post funeral, I DID NOT want to talk about it. Many of my classmates had NO CLUE that I lost my father just weeks before. It was easier to pretend that he was out of town on business trip or at home. I didn't want to think about it too much. I was just numb. But that year, when I went home for Christmas break, it was all too real. He was not home....and he wasn't coming back. It REALLY hit me then. When I went back to school, I was a walking zombie. I was functional, but I was not myself. I didn't buy any of my textbooks for school, I skipped several classes, I didn't apply for or interview for ANY jobs although I was graduating that upcoming May.......this was SOOOO unlike me. I had already been on 4 interviews before Christmas break and was in the process of applying for several more. I just didn't want to be. I didn't want to talk to my mother about it, because she was DEFINITELY grieving. She was all by herself now, she had to be in the house everyday. I decided to journal my feelings and just write. And slowly but surely, Andrea started to come around again. But it wasn't until 2 yrs later that I was openly able to talk about my Daddy to people. Now, it's second nature to speak of him and his memory, but at the time...far from it.
During Hurricane Katrina, as I was worried for classmates and family that were in the direct line of the storm and most of whom had to evacuate, I received the call that my Granny had passed. She was 94 yrs old. I cried, I journaled and I told everyone about her. Not about her death, but about her legacy. About how she and Grandaddy Lewis with only minimal education sent all 5 of their kids to college; who all graduated and went on to receive Master's degrees and went into the field of education (all but my Daddy...he was a CPA) how they were Tuskegee University's "Parents of the Year" one year after they sent and graduated 4 of their children from that school...how she loved to watch the Atlanta Braves and never missed a game, how she always made you eat ham when you came to visit, how she never fried chicken but made the best apple pies, and how she had to have a bowl of ice cream every night.
This post today is just a look at grieving.......I don't think there is a right or wrong way to do it, we just need to allow ourselves the opportunity and permission to grieve, so it won't come out in destructive actions and behavior.
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