Day by Day

Grief Role Model?

“Grief can not be fixed, it can only be experienced. Unless you allow yourself to experience it, it will stay.”

“And it can’t be remedied, it must be endured. And it’s the endurance weirdly enough, that becomes the remedy.”

Both of these men have seen intense grief and suffered heavy losses. Both have shared their stories with the world and we are better for it.

I remember going to target for contact paper for Nora’s dresser the Saturday before we lost her. While in the parking lot, I read online that Patton Oswalt’s wife died. He wasn’t someone normally on my radar. I didn’t watch his standup, but I found him witty and wise on Twitter and I always enjoyed him as a guest star on tv shows.

I felt such anguish for him at that moment. I know my emotions were heightened but I felt such a weird connection to him and said something to M. how awful it was and kept thinking of how horrible it would be to go through this and for his poor daughter to grow up without her mom.

I feel like we’re on this grief journey together. Which is weird. I know. I respect his ability to be honest in his grief. When people remember to ask how I am? I’m ok. Every now and then, I’ll give a meh. But if an ‘ok’ is really a ‘meh’, does anyone realize a ‘meh’ is really a ‘terrible’?

He admits how hard it is and is healthier for it. It’s been six months and it’s almost harder now than it was before. Before I was like a zombie version of myself. I went out, met up with friends, and went to work but I don’t really remember much of it. But I’m not telling people this. I feel like such a burden.

Did I seem like myself? Was my humor inappropriate? Did I look like I was ok? I don’t know. I’m almost embarrassed of myself looking back. I just don’t know how I was and I worry how I acted around people. Yet at the same time, who gives a fuck? This can’t be a real concern, right? Is this really what I’m going to worry about? I could shake myself. It all just brings such a tightness to my chest.

Now I’m an active participate to 90% of my life. But who knows. Maybe in six months, I’ll say the same thing about these six months. I still cry daily, some days are skipped though. I still have flashbacks to our time in the hospital and telling our family to hurry back. I think of how sad others were for us and cry. I don’t realize the effort I put in to being normal, until I start to crash from it. 3 good days, 2 bad days. A weekend of good, a week of bad.

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