I was the youngest child for both my parents, and the only child between them. I had the benefits of growing up in a large family and being the only child at the same time. I was closer to one brother than all other siblings. He was 10 years older than I am and wasn't only a brother but also a protector. My father died when I was just eight from complications from alcoholism during the he and my mother were going through a divorce.
I remember the exact moment and location and vividly remember all the items around me when I was told my father had died. I was his only girl so there was extra special bonding there. He was perfect, far from it. In fact I would even say part evil. However, the true him was kind, generous, and loving. The alcoholic him was pure evil. I remember going to the funeral home and picking out the casket, or listening as it was all being done. It was my first real experience in a funeral home. I look back on it and wish someone would have realized that as an eight year old child, I needed guidance. What do you do at a funeral home? How do you act at a funeral home? Why does everyone come to a funeral home? I am a child and it will be ok.....
I remember the visitation and the funeral. I remember the heart shaped pillow with the word Daddy in gold that held flowers that they had me plane in his casket. That pillow was given to me as a keep sake. Still not sure why I have it but it is tucked away in my cedar chest. I also remember the grave side service and wondering why all this was going on. I am eight! I was in second grade. None of this made any sense.
I never dealt with those emotions because it was never explained to me what they were. I worried about my mother a lot growing up and never really visited friends houses or "ran around" with them. In my teen years I went wild for a short period of time which was far out of character for me to do. I was the good kid. Well that got me into counseling at the school and lots of things came out that had been bottled up for years. Honestly? It was the best thing that could have happened to me.
A few years later I would lose my grandfather. He had been ill for years after suffering a stroke and depended completely on his family to provide care for him. We all took shifts helping him with everything from using the commode to bathing and getting dressed. He would cry each time I helped because he felt he was a burden to his family. But truth is, he deserved all we did and more. I had visited him just hours before he passed and he seemed fine. I lived just an hour away and by the time I had reached home the phone was ringing. He had already been transported by ambulance to the hospital, and had passed after my grandmother asked him if he was in pain and he said, "not any more". The funeral in the days following was emotional. We were losing my grandfather and my brother and sister-in-law were expecting a baby and would find out the gender that day. A boy was to be born.
A little more than a year later, I am engaged to be married and prior to that wedding our family was struck by tragedy. That baby boy would be taken from us days before he turned a year old. He was a feisty little guy and brought joy to everyone around him. He took a tumble off the bed and landed on a hard wood floor. I don't know a baby that hasn't had a tumble that scared the pudding out of the parents but this was different. That sweet baby laid in the hospital trying with all his might to make it, but that wasn't meant to be. I still struggle with his death because it just isn't fair. The only answer I can come up with is God needed him, but why? Why do that to my family? Why do that to his parents and siblings? Why? Ultimately, this loss put a great strain on the family. In fact throughout the years it has built the Great Wall of Grief between my sister-in-law and my mother. That too brings pain to many of us in the family. In fact outside of Jared's funeral last summer, I can't remember the last time they were in the same building together. I know how it pains me, I can't imagine how it pains my brother.
What pained me then, and still does for different reasons now, is that I didn't know how to support them. I didn't know the loss they were feeling.
We honored my nephew on our wedding ceremony and made him a part of the event. To this day I keep his picture on my dresser.
Since that time his siblings have grown and have children of their own and we talk about their brother Jacob. I think of him often as he must have been there to greet Jared into heaven.
After suffering the loss of Jared I have had a new understanding of loss. I understand that even very young children grieve and they need the grieving process to be explained to them and what they are experiencing. I have learned that even when we look strong, we are incredibly weak. I have learned that we will change emotionally, physically, and spiritually. I have learned that actions can be explained but not necessarily justified. I have learned that I can love two people who can't seem to look at one another and not judge them. I have also learned that we become uncensored with loss. If you ask us our opinion, please be prepared for the answer. I have learned that compassion doesn't mean that I have to let you drag me into a dark place. I have also learned that no matter how much you love someone, you can't stop things from happening. I could not stop by dad from drinking, my grandfather from aging, my nephew from from having injuries that could not be healed, my mother and sister-in-law to get along, nor could I save my son from suicide.
While I do not like to accept any of these things, I must. I must also accept all the other things in life that played into of the paths that brought us all to where we are today.
My wish is for peace, understanding, and a world without pain. Is that really too much to ask for?
No comments:
Post a Comment