What you don’t know is that I will never be the same person I was 2 months ago. This grief is all encompassing. It comes in waves and I have no control over when it hits me.
Sometimes I hate it when people talk about their kids, especially if they have 2. This morning that happened. Someone talked about how much trouble one of their kids had been and they followed it up with ‘but everything always works out’. No. It doesn’t always work out. I wanted to say that, but because I know that my grief makes people uncomfortable, I just sat there in silence waiting for a good time to get up from the table.
I feel like I am no longer a whole person. Part of me is gone and will never return. The pain and sorrow that I feel are truly mental as well as physical. I feel like there’s a hole in my heart and if I allow myself to feel that, I just can’t stand the pain. This pain is scary. It feels uncontrollable and I’m scared to let go.
Until you have suffered a loss like this, you can never imagine the feeling. I know that my presence makes people feel uncomfortable. They don’t know what to say. What you don’t know is that saying nothing is hurtful. If you don’t know what to say, just say that you’re sorry. Just say that you’re praying for us or just thinking of us. You can’t say anything that will actually help, but it is helpful to know that we are being lifted up by your prayers.
What you don’t see is that every night I cry. What you don’t see is that any time I’m in my car, I sob. Usually it’s for a short time but it always comes. What you don’t see is that I feel guilt and anger and sadness. What you don’t see is that I’m afraid to laugh hard. I’m afraid to smile and enjoy things for the fear that Tommy is looking down and thinking that I don’t care enough or I’m not sad enough. What you don’t see is that I’m afraid of intimacy right now because it all feels like a betrayal of my poor child who will never get a life in which he has the opportunity to feel all that life gives us. What you don’t see is that at any moment I can break down crying. What you don’t see is that I’ve been eating and drinking my sorrow. What you don’t see is that I tried my best to organize all of the cards and photos from the service so that in case I ever have the strength to look back at them, they’d be arranged beautifully for Tommy. What you don’t see is that having his ashes with me is torture. When they were brought to the house, I left them in the car until I couldn’t any longer. That knowing his body was just a transport vehicle and that those ashes are now with me, makes me want to throw up. What you don’t see is that this pain is almost too much to bear and there are moments that I wish I was with him.
Tommy