I'm not gonna lie, today was a killer day. It wasn't killer in the sense of "I worked hard" or anything of that nature. It was emotionally draining. I drove to Mtn. Home yesterday for what was supposed to be a fun weekend "reunion" of sorts with old high school friends (and it was to a very limited extent) but in the process of looking forward to spending time catching up and telling stories and laughing a lot (because that's what we all do when we're together) life happened. My best friend from college lost her momma, so my fun weekend turned into a "support your friend when she needs you the most" weekend.
I guess I didn't take into account that I might somehow be affected in some way other than being sad because momma Jo died and my friend was grieving a huge loss in her life. I mentally "prepared" myself by listening to happy music for the entire drive up. I even wore a dress that kinda makes me happy. And I made it through visitation just fine -- of course, so did she. But today was another beast all together. I fully expected there to be tears, and lots of them. I've been there and there's no way to describe what a girl goes through when your momma dies. But the part I forgot, was how a daddy reacts to the death of his wife. It came out of left field and caught me completely by surprise. And then the flood gates opened.
And not only was I totally unprepared for the magnitude of water pouring from my eyes, I found myself sitting at a funeral without a single tissue in sight. I guess I underestimated my reaction in more ways than one. I was a brownie for all of five minutes and I did learn to "be prepared" -- but today I was unprepared to the nth degree. Note to self: tissue packs for the car and purse are necessary at all times, just in case you need them...
In addition to all of that, I was also sitting by myself -- mind you, I was surrounded by other people, but none that I knew personally. And then at the end of the service, the "ticker tape parade" started. Now I'm not trying to sound cold or callous. I know that different traditions are in place for different families -- some are in place in my own family. But the "walk past the casket in a single file line" part of funerals is not my favorite. First off, the person is no longer present in the room. Secondly, as someone who's been down that road a few times, it's torture to watch other people's reactions to that part of the service. And so for a moment I debated. Do I sneak out the back or fall in line and do what's expected? I did the latter. And when I had walked past (with only a slight glance), tears in my eyes -- I looked at my friend and she mouthed "I love you" and I knew that it was all worth it.
I found myself playing over and over in my head things that I might say to Nikki and her sisters to help them get through this tough time. And then I reminded myself that words won't fix the hurt in their hearts, and they likely won't remember the words of this day past this week. So I put my words on the back burner and was just their friend -- who came to support them on a tough day. I ate lunch with their family. We went back to her dad's house (myself and former classmates/neighbors) and we laughed -- a lot. Mind you, there were only two people that I was actually close to in high school and I wasn't the former neighbor who grew up next door and caused all kinds of trouble. I was the college roommate, former sister-in-law, bridesmaid, and friend who was there to share in the laughter -- and the tears.
I know what her journey will look like -- kinda. But it's her journey, not mine. We share the loss of a mother, but not the moments that led up to that loss. As her friend, I can be an ear when she needs one and a shoulder to cry on. I can be the friend that just listens when she needs to scream and yell (and there will be many days where she wants to scream and yell). The friend she confides in when she thinks it's too heavy a burden to lay on her sisters who are grieving in their own way. And I can offer her encouragement when she gets frustrated by the fact that her daddy's journey of grief won't make sense to her or her sisters. Those will be the things that mean the most to her when she finds herself a little more distanced from the magnitude of grief she feels at this moment. I won't lie, you are forever changed when your momma dies, but if you're fortunate enough to have family and friends that help hold you together on the days when you can't do it for yourself -- you come out a little stronger on the other side. ~sheri
4 comments:
Your blog made me think on so many levels. You are forever changed by the loss of a spouse...you keep waiting for things to get back to normal, only to realize that whatever normal was, it will never be that again...and you have to find your new normal. You are also forever changed by the loss of a sibling, an experience we shared, but on a different level. Our lives have intersected on all of these, and we have both managed to keep ourselves together. But you are so correct, the journey, while familiar, is so different for each of us. She will appreciate your wisdom and those words you were trying to say, someday. But most especially, what you gave her, and what she will remember most is that you were there to share one of the hardest days she will ever face. That is what makes you who you are: someone who is admired and loved.
Let her know that Im praying for her and you. These kind of things tend to bring back many memories that we've pushed down & yet again have to face. You're a great friend. I hope & know with your support, she will be ok.
I'm so blessed to have you as a friend. And so is Nikki. I love you!
Tears are flowing down my cheeks. I can barely see the keyboard to type to you. I guess this really hits home as it draws closer to my mom's birthday, she would have been 68 years old on this coming Saturday. You get so used to your parents being a phone call away or a place of refuge to get away from life in general. I still want to pick up the phone to talk to mom and dad. Everyone grieves differently and there is no time limit on grieving for your loss. When it happens to someone else, it is simple to say things will get easier, it will just take time. What do you do for all those "slap you in your face" moments? Grief hits you unexpectantly like seeing someone in a wheelchair around her birthday or parent's anniversary date. I can go months without seeing one, I have seen seven in the past week. I am still waiting for time to pass by without it hurting so bad.
My daughter has some many "firsts" yet to do that mom and dad should be here to see her grow up into a wonderful adult. I couldn't be more proud of her. Memories flood my every thought. Friends are there for you but I was just bottling everything up to be there for my daughter. I honestly don't think that I will get over the loss of mom or dad. We just have to learn to move forward and continue working through the pain. Parents are smiling down on us from heaven and it will be wonderful to see them again when my time is up. For now, I continue on this spiritual journey to find comfort in my daily living.
Your family has been a true blessing to my daughter and me in our time of need. Thank you for being YOU and always making the time to be there when you are needed.
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