Anyway, I have read some tweets from Meghan McCain. No political statement there. Her father, as you may know, Senator John McCain, recently passed away from a horrible brain cancer called Glioblastoma. It is always a death sentence. My own sister in law and an Uncle both died from this. It is insidious and sneaks up on you. People usually die within a year or so. It is awful. And not a death I would wish on anyone. It is particularly hard on the caregivers. To watch this fast decline. It is cruel. As a hospice nurse, it is a diagnosis we all dread.
Getting back to Meghan. She tweets about her dad a lot. Apparently she also talks about him frequently on a show called The View. I don't watch much TV, and have never watched the show, but people comment to her that she talks about him too much. Like she should be over it by now. That other people have lost loved ones but they don't talk about it incessantly like she does.
I call that grief shaming.
It is like people expect you to wrap it up and put it away about 3-6 months after someone dies. It doesn't matter if it is a parent or sibling or spouse. Or even a child. They talk about closure. They say talking about it only makes you sad. They say to get out more. Don't think about it. Let it go.
They say all sorts of stupid things. And it is hurtful. And totally unnecessary.
Most times people have to hide their grief. They stop talking about it at all. They bury their feelings. They cry in the shower. When they are alone in the car. They numb themselves with alcohol or drugs. They may try to distract themselves. Sometimes it creeps up on them like a big wave of despair and they feel like they are drowning.
And then sometimes it is gone.
But not for long and not forever.
I think my grief over losing my father and mother and pets gets worse when I see something or someone that reminds me of them. Holidays are particularly difficult. And it has been decades since my mom died. I still have all her handwritten recipes. And sometimes I bring them out and read them and remember. And yes it does make me sad. But also it fills my heart with the love I felt. And that is healing.
We will never fully stop missing someone who is gone from this world. No way. And it is okay to talk about them. To keep loving them. To stay connected with memories and pictures and videos and treasures we kept from them. Life is short. We are who we are because of the people in our lives. Past and present. We do not have to forsake the past to live in the present. We can celebrate their life and honor them until the day we die. And we have to let people know that. If they grief shame you, tell them that. If they persist, just walk away.
It is so hard for the bereaved. But we are all bereaved at some point in our lives. And we all deal with it individually. And in our time and space. And some may choose to talk. And others to stay silent. Some write beautiful poetry. Some visit a grave every week. Some talk in prayers to loved ones. Some cry themselves to sleep every single night.
And it is all ok. It is okay to miss someone. It is okay to feel sad.
We are not allowed to own our feelings anymore. If we say we are sad, we are labeled as depressed. And given a drug for that. Awful.
Instead we need more hugs. We need to allow grief and sadness. We need to lean into our grief. Feel it. It will never really let us fall. And it is the one thing we all share at one time or another. If only we were not so isolated in our grief. If only we didn't feel the need to build walls around it. If only we could just be allowed to miss those we lost loud and clear.
It would be so much better.
For all of you out there hurting, it is okay. You should hurt. It hurts. But it does get better. Never forgotten, but better. The timing is just different for all of us. Know that and accept your grief. It has it's own timetable. It is so hard but keep remembering that it is part of our human experience. Keep loving yourself.
Where you used to be, there is a hole in the world, which I find myself constantly walking around in the daytime, and falling in at night. I miss you like hell.
...Edna St. Vincent Millary
