Silently Grieving
A Fathers Journey
Through Loss and Grief
A Fathers Journey
Through Loss and Grief
Everyone experiences grief in different ways. I tend to process it quietly in my own head. To those that don't know me well, this can give the outward impression of indifference. I've found it helpful to write out the internal monolog that happens when I find myself shutting the world out and retreating to the relative safety of my own head. I've been told others might benefit from reading these if only to better understand what may be going through the mind of that one person who doesn't seem to be falling apart even though the world around him expects him to.
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.
Today is not a get things done day. Today is a hold it together day. The world is not ready for you to lose your shit. To be blunt, the world doesn’t care. Your world might care but THE world doesn’t. It just keeps on spinning. Blissfully ignorant of your thoughts and struggles, wishes and dreams.
You are just one person. Living your life. Learning to cope with loss on a daily basis. Struggling to understand dreams and come to terms with realities. You know you are not the only person who has suffered a loss. Literally every sentient being in the universe has suffered a loss. But there is no comfort in that thought. Even if Misery loves company.
Misery loves company? No it doesn’t. Misery hates company. Company dilutes misery. Misery craves empathy. Empathy justifies Misery. Misery loves empathy.
Misery wants to brood down deep. Misery wants to be the center of attention and take focus off anything that might diminish its self-imposed importance.
Misery wants to flood in and drown out everything in its surroundings. When Misery finally ebbs away, Misery leaves behind a sticky film that can’t be washed off. A constant reminder that can’t be ignored.
Like any sticky film it grabs hold of outside debris. Over time it collects so much debris that it doesn’t feel sticky anymore. Like a lint roller covered in lint.
So that’s what you aspire to be on a hold it together day. A lint roller covered in lint…
…and there is nothing wrong with that.