One thing that's helped me get a grip on the grief is putting it in perspective, examining the "why" behind it. It's bothered me that my mourning for Henry and John has been greater than my grief over losing my mom. Somehow that doesn't seem right, does it? I mean, they were my dearest friends but she was my mother. What did this say about me?
Nothing. It says nothing.
Part of what got me through losing my mom was having Henry and John. Henry met my mother and they got along so well. John had already lost his own mother and knew just what to say.
And they weren't just my friends, they were the brothers I chose. If my mom was here today, she'd help me through losing Henry and John. But she's not.
So I don't have Henry. I don't have John. I don't have my mom and my oldest friend is too chaotic and absorbed with her own stuff to be any help. I'm facing this with no ballast. So of course I'm struggling.
Understanding this helps.
Now I just want the pain to be over already!
No, I'm not tired of your grief. It's profound.
ReplyDeleteI was relieved when my mother died because she had worn me to a nub and I was exhausted. There wasn't a lot of grief when she passed because I had struggled my way through losing my IDEA of what a mother could be (that mine never would or could be) during years of therapy. With my goddaughter, that's an entirely different grief that I feel profoundly to this day (almost 20 years later).
ReplyDeleteWe feel what we feel for reasons that are entirely our own. I know losing your closest friends has been hard and with your oldest friend, losing the camaraderie and caring you had (even though she's still here physically) challenges you as well.
From what you write here (acknowledging it's but a snapshot of the whole of your life), you seem to be working your way through one step at a time with heart and strength. Bravo to you, Gal!