Silently Grieving

What am I supposed to do when all I want to do is weep uncontrollably? “Go ahead and weep!” you might say. But I can’t. They wouldn’t understand. Those close to me would. Those close enough to have experienced the pain with me or consoled me shortly after would respond to my tears with nothing but compassion and understanding. I cherish those people. But those people are few and shrinking. Those people can’t follow me around on the bad days and explain to the others that “He suffered a loss in the past and something that was said/heard/smelt/felt (circle one or multiple) triggered an uncontrollable emotional response so please just be patient and he will calm down in a few minutes”. That would be ridiculous and I would never want or ask those people to do that.

So, what am I supposed to do? I can’t let a boss or subordinate see me break down. I can’t respond to emotions by losing control. Even if that emotion is deep, personal grief. “How is he going to respond to a customer yelling at him if his response to emotions is to break down and cry?” they might say. What am I? Human? I’m not supposed to be human when I’m on the clock. I’m supposed to be a machine. A problem-solving machine. But I’m not even a machine, I’m a cog in the machine. A machine might be capable of recognizing, if not understanding, the emotion of grief but the cog cannot. The cog just spins as its told.

I guess I’ll do what I’ve been trained to do my whole life. Hold it in, move forward as if nothing is different and only let it out in the privacy of my own head. Well here you go Head. Deal with it. Today is not the day and now is not the time to break down. Let’s get one thing clear Head, I’m not trying to forget the loss or ignore the grief. I will gladly let all the emotions flood in later, just not right now. You and I Head, we’ve been through this before and God knows we will go through it again. We are partners in this and today I’m going to count on your support a little more than usual. Because that guy is going to come into our office with a problem and we are going to have to listen, discuss and solve that problem all without shedding a tear because his coffee cup happens to be the same colors as the blanket we wrapped around our dying son. He is not going to understand why we keep staring at his cup and he certainly isn’t going to appreciate having to repeat himself because we couldn’t focus.

So this is my promise to you, Head. Help me get through this day, and possibly the next, and I will devote as much time, energy and saline (because that’s what tears are made of right?) to recognizing and processing this grief.