Grief is the Price of Love

 I know that my posts have become really sporadic since I've been home.  I've gotten busy with life, the universe, and everything.  We get into a flow and some things end up being less of a priority than they once were.  That being said, I must share some of my thoughts on recent events and how surreal life is when faced with sudden loss.

When someone you love is sick, it's a roller coaster of emotions and diagnoses.  You take it a day at a time - this day was a good day, this day was not so good, this day sucked, that day was AWESOME.  You never get used to the ups and downs, but you always hold on to hope.  Any glimmer of good feeling, any sign of healing and your spirit soars with the hope that this will be the upswing that lasts.  This is the start of the good times returning.  Then any time something bad happens you are plunged into the uncertainty - every new diagnosis, every new prescription, every new complication has you scared that this is the start of the last down turn that will only end when your loved one is gone.  Living with that roller coaster is wonderful, horrible, terrifying, and uplifting.  Every victory is celebrated, every defeat is mourned, and every new prescription is a gamble.  This is what people live with for weeks, months, years, decades even, with their loved ones.  Sometimes we try to mentally prepare ourselves for the worst, but when it happens no one is ever really ready for it.  This one sucked - HARD.

You see, he was getting better.  He was going to therapy, the meds were working, he was getting around better, he could drive himself, he was having fun with his 3-D printer, we were even getting ready for a surgery that may have helped him to eat again.  That's the tragedy of what came next, that's the injustice that we're screaming against, HE WAS GETTING BETTER.  His doc wanted an MRI before the surgery because he "saw something" on a scan and wanted "a better look."  So they drove to the MRI appointment, he goes back to the MRI room.  Code Blue.  Gone.  

Shock.  Disbelief.  Anger.  Hurt.  Tears.  GRIEF.  The grief that comes in waves.  The grief that becomes all-consuming one minute and then recedes the next.  The grief that people judge.  The grief that has 5 steps (maybe, but they are NOT linear steps).  The grief that is the price of love.

Even in our grief we are grateful for some things.  Grateful for the time we had, grateful that this happened at a hospital and not at home or in the car (especially when he was driving).  Grateful that we got to share in his life and that he was a part of ours.  We are even grateful for an answer to the ultimate, awful question - why.  What went wrong?  A sneaky complication with little to no symptoms that spontaneously makes itself known and is most often fatal when it does.  Hard to catch, difficult to treat.  No one to blame.  Well, I say that - God gets a lot of the blame.  On the other hand, he gets a lot of gratitude too.  Gratitude that it didn't happen when he was alone, at home.  Gratitude that it didn't happen while he was driving - with or without a passenger.  Gratitude that people were around to help.  It still sucks, and we would prefer that things had gone differently, but we can see where they could have been much, much worse.

I've experienced grief before - and it's always different and always familiar.  I saw something online once about how grief is the price of love, and it's always stuck with me.  To avoid grief, we have to avoid attachments to others.  That is a lonely existence.  Love is what makes life worthwhile.  Not just romantic love, but the love between friends, parents and children, siblings, even pets, etc.  To life a loveless life would be a bigger tragedy than to grieve those who pass away.  As a Catholic, I do believe that we shall see each other again.  I'm happy that my friends and family are in a place of no more pain, no more sorrow, no more sickness, no more death.  Sometimes I envy them.

Those of us who are left behind have to learn to live in a new world.  A world without the love and support of the one who has passed.  Learning to live with that person-shaped hole in our worlds is rough.  I've also learned that there is no "How To" manual for this.  Everyone experiences their grief differently, they mourn differently, and there is no "correct" way to do it.  The LAST thing a grieving person needs is ANY judgement on how they SHOULD be coping.  So friends, just a little tip, when someone you know is mourning, NEVER, EVER, judge, comment, ridicule, or otherwise try to "should" them.  Now, gentle comments about "this really helped me when XXXXX passed away" is acceptable.  The key word here is GENTLE - generally the grieving person knows how awkward you feel, how you don't know what to say, what to do, or how to help.  My advice - just don't make it worse.

I'm glad to have known him.  I will hold on to my memories of happier times - the cookouts in the old house, the conversation over that one Christmas, enjoying the beer he brewed, and I will cherish the skull he (3-D) printed for me.  Sometimes I get mad at him... then I remember he was probably just as caught off guard as the rest of us.  This wasn't the way it was supposed to go, but it is the way that it went.  The new world is a little... less.  Oh don't get me wrong, he could be a stinker.  But he was OUR stinker and we miss him.  The unreality of it all hits sometimes... this was not the plan, this wasn't in the script... it was always a possibility, but not during an upswing, not when we were getting ready to make the feeding tube obsolete.  I want to scream, shout, punch things, and rail against the damn unfairness of it all... but life isn't fair.  We learn that pretty quick as kids, and it never does become 'fair.'  So show your love, cherish your people, your tribe.  Tell them you love them, tell them often, tell them in your love language and theirs.  Take that trip to see them, make that phone call, send that text.  Don't leave people wondering where they rate in your world, tell them.  As I shall tell you, much love to all: MUAH!  :*  Huge hugs, I wish you nothing but the very best.