Getting out

Last weekend, Curt and I went to our first show since Adrienne died, Terry Fator (the guy who won America's Got Talent). We've always been a family that enjoyed live theater of every type: music, comedy, drama, and so on. Adrienne would have loved Terry Fator and it made me think of all the shows we saw over the years: Jersey Boys, Phantom, Elton John, Cirque du Soleil, George Carlin, plus many, many more. When she and I went on an Alaskan cruise after the marathon in 2004, we saw two shows a night, grabbing a quick bite for dinner in between. One night, we asked the purser about that evening's shows and he told us it was impossible to see two shows a night. We laughed, telling him we'd done it every other night.

I found this recently and it explains how I feel much of the time.

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What do we wish others understood about the loss of our child? Here is a partial list of such wishes:

I wish you would not be afraid to speak my child’s name. My child lived and was very important and I need to hear her name.

I wish you wouldn’t feel awkward if I mention her name.

If I cry or get emotional if we talk about my child, I wish you knew that it isn’t because you hurt me: the fact that my child died has caused my tears. You have allowed me to cry and I thank you. Crying and emotional outbursts are healing.

I will have emotional highs and lows, ups and downs. I wish you wouldn’t think that if I have a good day my grief is all over, or if I have a bad day I need psychiatric counseling.

I wish you knew that the death of a child is different from other losses and must be viewed separately. It is the ultimate tragedy and I wish you wouldn’t compare it to the loss of a parent, spouse or pet.

Being a bereaved parent is not contagious, so I wish you wouldn’t shy away from me.

I wish you knew that all the “crazy” grief reactions that I am having are in fact very normal. Depression, anger, frustration, hopelessness, the questioning of values and beliefs are to be expected following the death of a child.

I wish you wouldn’t expect my grief to be over in six months. The first few years are going to be exceedingly traumatic for us.

As with alcoholics, I will never be “cured” or a “former bereaved parent,” but will forever be a “recovering bereaved parent.”

I wish you understood the physical reaction to grief. I may gain or lose weight, sleep all the time or not at all, lose my short-term memory, develop a host of illness and be accident prone, all of which may be related to my grief.

Our child’s birthday, the anniversary of her death, and the holidays are terrible times for us. I wish you could tell us that you are thinking about our child these days and if we get quiet and withdrawn, just know that we are thinking about our child and missing her terribly.

Please understand the I am not the same person I was before my child died, and do not expect me to "get back to my old self". I am forever changed, but if you give me a chance, you may find that you like the "new me".