Tomorrow will be 14 months since Dan & I lost our son. Fourteen months since our world fell apart. Much has changed in that time. But one thing that hasn't changed is our Grief. Except I think many people believe that it has. They assume because they have moved on, that we must have as well. But they didn't lose their child. And that makes all the difference. They see us laughing, joking, having fun, being silly, going to work, and being normal, so we must be ok, right? Wrong.
Normal stopped for us on August 4, 2012. There is no normal anymore, and there never will be again. When you lose your child, you lose yourself. We will never be the same people we were 14 months ago.
One big thing you learn (and quickly) when you lose a child is that most people can't and don't want to deal with it. It's awkward and uncomfortable for them. So you learn to hide it. You put on fake smiles and happy faces and you pretend. If you LOOK ok, people assume you are ok, and that makes them feel better. But what they don't see is that we really aren't better. We still miss our son with every fiber of our being. We still cry, a lot. We still get angry, and can't accept the fact that he is never coming home. We still get depressed. We still struggle to get out of bed most days, and we are still grieving.
There is hardly a minute that goes by that I don't think about Zach. Every song, TV show, movie, and conversation brings up some thought or memory of him. I still can't see a car accident, or hear about one, without getting instantly sick to my stomach. I avoid situations where there are a lot of children, because it's too hard most days. I lie awake at night, and think about the what ifs, the regrets and the guilt. I dream of him, and wake up only to realize it wasn't real, and he's still gone. I still reach for his favorite snacks at the grocery store, pick up my phone to text him something funny, and do a double take when I see someone who looks like him. I look at my husband, and see the heartbreak in his eyes, and would do anything to give him his little buddy back. I hear friends complain about silly little things, and struggle not to snap at them about how lucky they are. I think about the future, and wonder about the what haves. What kind of husband or father would he have been? What kind of grandparents and in laws would we have been? Would we have all stayed close, or would we eventually start to grow apart? I think about the past, and I question whether or not he knew how much I loved him. I regret all the times I was impatient, frustrated or too tired.
It's been 14 months, and I am still grieving. And in another 14 months, or 3 years, or 20 years... I will STILL be grieving. Just because you can't see something, doesn't make it any less real. And our Grief is very real to us. It is a constant battle, and those smiles and laughs that you see are hard earned.
In the year since losing our son, I have learned many lessons. Most of which, I would rather not have. But as usual... Grief has a plan of its own.
So here are a few things that Grief has taught me:
*Some things just aren't that big of a deal.
Sometimes in life, we find ourselves thoroughly overwhelmed. Jobs, kids, money, drama, etc, etc, etc. We tend to think that these relatively minor stresses are so much bigger than they really are. Until suddenly, something happens that puts it into perspective. Suddenly that pile of laundry isn't the end of the world. That mess the kids made is just a slight inconvenience, not the be all, end all. Your annoying boss is a pain, yes, but you get to leave work at some point. When grieving the loss of your only child, NOTHING even comes close. Nothing. And it is 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, 365 days a year. It isn't temporary, it isn't fixable, and it isn't avoidable. Then you add all those everyday annoyances and inconveniences on top of it. So yeah... some things are just not that big of a deal.
*Some people aren't worth your time.
As awful as that sounds, it is the truth. We all have these people in our lives. The toxic, negative ones that are always bringing you down. Yet for some reason, we continue to allow them to hold a place in our lives. Well not anymore. Life is a constant struggle for me now. I have to fight for each smile and laugh. I have to make a choice to try and be happy, and it is far from easy. Having people in my life who consistently make it harder or impossible is not an option anymore. I can't allow it.
*I am not worth everyone's time.
Yes... This goes both ways. When you hit rock bottom, and you are at your worst, some people will walk away. They will not understand or be patient. They will not know how to deal with you. I have accepted this. The first few times it happened, it hurt me, but now I understand that not everyone is capable of dealing with difficult times. I try not to take it personally, and I do not force anyone to be a part of my life that does not want to be. Grief has taught me who my true friends (and family) are.
*There is unbelievable kindness in the world.
So often in life, we focus on the bad. We see only our problems, and not our blessings. Well when you are drowning in Grief, and struggling for a way out, you start to see things differently. You find yourself seeking out the good. It is the only way out of the constant darkness. And it IS out there. Since losing Zachary, we have been amazed at the outpouring of decency and support. From loved ones, and from strangers. Nearly every day, I am surprised by an unexpected (and much appreciated) act of pure, unselfish kindness. I am blown away by it, and I couldn't be more grateful for it.
*Life is too short.
I hear people say this all the time, but I'm not sure they truly get it. I'm not sure I genuinely understood it until we lost our son. Now I certainly do. When your life is ripped apart in a matter of moments, you learn this lesson quickly. And you don't forget it. In one instant everything was gone. And it really can happen to anyone. The future is not promised. Just because you make plans, doesn't mean life will allow you to keep them. So live in the now. Make time for what matters, sooner than later. Say I love you. Often. Count your blessings, and don't sweat the small stuff. Do what makes you happy, and do your best to make others happy, too.
*Leave a legacy.
When our son passed away, we heard countless stories of how he touched the lives of others. We are still hearing new stories all the time. Zach truly was a light in this world, and anyone who knew him can vouch for that. He will forever be remembered for his kindness, generosity, and for all the goodness he brought into the lives of those who knew him.
How will you be remembered? Each day you live could be your last chance to leave your legacy. If today was your last day, what would your legacy be? Would it be someone who left smiles and laughter everywhere they went? Or would it be someone who was never happy, never satisfied, and always bitter? Be conscious of your actions and your attitudes, they are going to be someone's memories of you one day.
