I'm Not a Puppy

In the early days of grief, I felt like people were treating me like a puppy or perhaps a toddler. As if they could somehow get excited enough aenough about something happeneing (wow! This salad is so good!) and I would somehow forget that I was standing in the rubble of what used to be my life.

I just wanted silence. Or a hug. Or something to say, "I hate this. Death is terrible. I miss Greg too. I wish he didn't die".

Instead I heard things that were either supposed to cheer me up (yay! look at ___ thing that happened!) or reduce my sorrow (at least _______). None of those are helpful. They just made me feel so much more alone. They made the contrast between the utter devastation I felt and the simple, carefree lives others seemed to have so much more stark.

I've been guilty of doing the same thing though, if I'm honest. It's hard to sit in the face of tremendous pain and not try to make it better. Find a bright spot, a silver lining. Look for the ONE positive thing you can eek out of someone's experience and try to get them to focus on that.

But we can't be distracted from grief or pain. It's not that we are focused on the wrong thing. It's that we see with new eyes.

Joy, fun, a smile - all of that is hard to find. A nd when it comes it comes alongside of - not instead of- the pain. It's always AND now. Joy AND sorrow. Laughter AND a heavy heart.

I have most appreciated the people who have embraced. the truth that presence is power. Just showing up. Just sitting in the pain. Being willing to play by the terms and conditions and rules that grief set for me. Dropping of a meal and not forcing me to say hi. Letting me hide when I needed to. Being with me when I needed company.Letting there be silence. Not talking about things like gas prices, and world events, and sports teams. I can't focus on sports teams. My leg has been sawn off and there's no tourniquet or pain filler strong enough to stop the bleeding.

Even now 17.5 months later. I don't need. a bandaid. I need to know you miss G too. I need you to be gentle. To know that I am grieving and always will be. To know that he is always on my mind. Sometimes in a way that brings me a smile or a laugh. Often in a way that just makes my heart feel heavy.

We were created in the image of a God who has the whole range of emotions. Puppies do not. But we remember, we hurt, we wrestle, we feel many things at once all at the same time. I can't be distracted from my grief the way that a puppy can be distracted from chewing on a slipper by a tasty bone. I don't need you to distract me. I need you to hold my hand and join me in my sorrow.