A blog about my adventures as a grief warrior

Tag: #suddendeath

I Wasn’t Ready to Say Goodbye

Brooke Noel and Pamela Blair, two women who have experienced sudden loss, united to write a book for those grieving the sudden death of a loved one. It was a book on my shelf for awhile and as I was reading it recently, I thought, why was this not one of the first books I read. This book is a sharing of personal loss, explanations of the stages particular to a sudden death and resources to support the process of any loss.

The book begins with a short chapter of each author sharing their personal story.  Chapter two jumps right in to how you will be feeling, what you will need to do and most importantly the advice to help you survive. These tips are what I wish I had read in my early grief. For instance, the suggestion to delegate someone to answer or make calls on your behalf. I remember thinking I have a meeting the next day with a client I was mentoring and so I called this unsuspecting young man, who thought I was confirming our appointment, to which instead I am telling him my son was just killed.  I won’t make it. Why did I feel the need to call? Why couldn’t anyone else have done that for me- but who could I have delegated to call him with such horrible news. I mean it had just happened. Why couldn’t I have just not shown up.  He would have understood.  I didn’t want him thinking his mentor let him down. Good God….

The book includes how to handle special occasions, how to support your other children, your spouse and yourself. The chapters cover different losses and the particulars around such including the loss of a parent, the loss of a sibling and the loss of a child.   This chapter starts with “It has been said that there is no loss as devastating as the loss of a child…” I appreciated this statement as neither Brook nor Pamela’s loss was a child. I know we are told that ‘loss is loss’ but having two grieving women who experienced sudden death of a loved one to have written this statement gave validation to the depth of grief when it is your child. “It is a heartbreak like no other.” I couldn’t have said it better.

The book contains exercises to guide your healing including the benefits of screaming, writing, listening to music and visual meditations. My favorite was the idea of creating a ritual that you do as a group or alone. Our family has gathered every August, on Zane’s birthday, to drink, laugh, cry and share memories as a way of honoring his life and the impact he has on all of us. I hope we always do that. What I am going to create this year, is my own ritual. I was inspired by the stories of how a father chooses to go away each year and ‘walk with his son’ or the mother who asks for time alone. I think it is important for each of us to gather and celebrate our loved one but equally important to create a special moment with just you and your loved one. A ritual to honor this action might be healing.

The book has an appendix of matters from how to write the eulogy, a check list for the calls that need to be made, to support groups moving forward.  In its entirety, this book is beautifully written as a resource to offer the reader strength and hope. It is to be the book that you hold tight to and the book you share when loss arrives.  

The Armor We Wear

A year ago, my friend shared the news that her 32-year-old daughter was diagnosed with breast cancer.  This past month, she and her husband walked their baby girl down the aisle, cancer free, to be married to the love of her life.  A truly joyous time.

I watched the video.  Her fiancé looked much like Zane, similar style of dress, shoes, colors.  His groomsmen came up the aisle one at a time and kissed him on the lips, bringing laughter to the moment. I can imagine Zane’s friends would do something like that.  Friends who are more like brothers.

I watched the couple exchange their vows and the smiles on the faces of family and friends.  It was a happy ending to a scary time for them.  And a happy beginning, all rolled into one beautiful, sunny afternoon.

As grief warriors, these are times where you need to put on your full armor. Each celebratory scene bludgeons you with a pain, an anger of why this can’t happen for my child.  Why did they have a horrific scare that they could overcome.  Did overcome.  How is this fair for my son?  How is this scene not my life?   The armor helps cover the heart so that I can be happy for my friend. This is her moment.  And she deserves it. I am thrilled that their sleepless nights and worry is in submission.  Worry will always be a part of motherhood but today, she relishes in the joy of seeing her daughter be married.  And the fact life has made this an impossibility for us, for Zane, brings bittersweet to a breathtaking, internal scream. 

My friend, in her excitement to share has no idea. The invisible armor I wear holds my pain in so all she can see is my smile and all she can hear is “Congratulations, I am so happy for all of you.”  And I am.

The scare of the unknown that ravished my friend’s days for a year or so prior to this day also carried hope. There lived, during her daughter’s fight, opportunity to express love and time to share one more hug. In sudden death, this is all taken away from you.  One moment life is and the very next you are told it’s gone. There is a cosmic injustice to this. Why God creates miracles everyday and yet saving my child was not one of them.

That night, I find myself alone. I take my armor off and the tears flood.  I am so jealous that my fate is not as kind as my friends. And this is the life of those in the grief community.  We carry within us the strength to put aside our pain to be happy for our friends’ joys. It fills you with such mixed emotions that we must plan to be gentle with ourselves after sharing their joy. We must find ways that bring a little comfort to the hell of not having the same. The armor we wear, does nothing for this emptiness. The armor we wear is for those around us. It pretends, “I’m ok”.

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