There's No Right or Wrong Way to Grieve

There is no right or wrong way to grieve. Don't let anyone try to tell you differerent.  One book or website will tell you one thing, and another will tell you something else.  There are guidelines, but nothing is definitive.  This I know.

According to "the experts", and I've heard these for years, so there must be some truth to it, there are 5 stages of grief, denial, anger, barganing, depression, acceptance.  I've been through them all, I think, but I circle back a lot. 

 

Sometimes, I think I'm handling it too good, because other people seem to think I am, but then again, they don't see me in the darkest moments.  I have only let a few people into that circle.



Life is forever changed.  You are learning how to appect it,
and learning a different way to live.

I wonder if how I feel is normal, because many things contradict what the books say.  For one thing, I've heard that many people no longer see beauty in things and they have to relearn to appreciate the colors of a rainbow or things like that.  For me, that's been so opposite.  I see more beauty in nature and all around me than I ever did. 

There are times things, like the simple movement of the clouds, are so beautiful to me that I want to just stop where I am and look at them for hours, or spend the day in one spot just photographing it to show others just how beautiful such simple things can be.  I notice the little things that many others take for granted.  I always did before, but now it is profoundly enhanced.  In some ways, my perspective is so utterly altered for the better.  That is one thing I hope  never changes, but it does make me question if I'm grieving properly.

 

Society leads you to believe that you are supposed to grieve or feel a certain way when you lose a child.  I'm here to tell you that, for me, and my husband too (we've talked about this), it is NOTHING like what you think or expect it should be like.  We both thought that if we  lost one of our children that there is no possible way we could survive.  I truely thought I'd die right along with her, so did Ray, or that we'd be so consumed with grief we would likely take our own life or not be able to function. That didn't happen, and we were left to figure out why and how we were now supposed to deal and go on.

 

Very strange things happened instead.  One of the strangest is how I felt in the days right after the accident. As odd as this sounds, there were times I had an oddly euphoric feeling about everything that was going on around me. That rocked me at my core. How could I be feeling this way at the same time my heart was aching so badly for my daughter? I don't know for sure what it was or is, and I don't really have a way to explain it, but at times I thought that maybe I got a glimpse of the mystery of the universe. That I had these good feelings because, even though I had such overwhelming saddness, I also had an incredible sense that my daughter was OK, better than OK. She was free. 

It's hard to put into words, and even harder to accept, because it is so contradictory.  I don't want this.  I didn't choose this, yet here I am in an unwanted club trying to make sense of the senseless and cling to the fact that nothing is right or wrong with how I feel or deal, or how anyone else feels or deals.  It is what it is.  That is all.

 

The thing that strikes me most is that I can be going along relatively OK, be having an OK day, and get hit with a wave a grief out of no where that nearly knocks me to my knees and sets me crying all over again.  This is normal, or so I'm gathering, because everyone I've encounted who is going through this has had this happen.  I'm certain that no matter how much time passes, we will never be fully OK (how could we?  we are forever changed), so I know this is just something I will learn to live with. I will, like I'm doing with everyhing else, embrace this bad moments, live in them until they pass and move on when I'm ready.  I embrace the good moments the same way.

There are many, many things that I will have to learn to live with as I learn to live without Kelci.  It's hard, very hard, but as I have said over and over, I know that Kelci would want me to find a way to be OK, really OK (not just the pretend version that I'm sometime in), and to live well, to be happy and to have fun. From the beginning, I have known this and I try very hard, everyday to keep my promises to her, for her and for everyone else around me now.  Sometimes, this is more diffucult than you can imagine, especially on the days that Ray, Brian and Michelle aren't doing so good.  I question if I have a right to be "happy" and pursuing this in the most positive way possible.  Then, I listen to my own advice, yes, I have the right, because there is no wrong or right way to do this. 

Through this, I have found that there are some things that seem to help me more than others.  They might not have one bit of impact on anyone else,  but they help me and I only offer them up as suggestions.
 

Journaling and writing.  I bought a beautiful little journal and I write to Kelci.  It's very raw there sometimes, and I spill wout whatever is on my mind when I pick it up.  I cry there. I laugh there. I write plans there for how I want to go on for her.  I get angry there, and I work through things there. It's just for me, to her.  I also write here, obviously.  This is harder, because I want to be a honest as possible, but I might edit myself at times.  I try not to, but it happens.  I also write on Facebook.  I do think I edit myself the most there, but I have been inspired by the interaction and support I recieve there.  It is really nice to know that people care.

So far, as of today (Sept. 18, 2012), I've kept this blog private.  It's up for the public, but I haven't really told anyone about it.  I don't know if I ever will.  I suppose that someday, someone who needs it might stumble across it, maybe read it, and maybe something I've written here will resonate with them and perhaps help in someway.  I don't know.  I know that I have come across some things that other parents who have lost a child have written and they've helped me. 

I don't write this for anyone but me, but I know, through reading about other parents going through similar grief that some of my experiences are the same.  Nature of the beast I guess.  I've also read some things that I haven't experienced.  Maybe I will eventually, maybe I won't.  Each person's grieving process is unique to them, and I would never tell anyone that anything I've been going through or how I've been dealing with or coping with things is the right way for them.  It doesn't work that way.  I'm just writing down my experience and what I observe in those close to me.  I share what helps me.  To my family members, I offer suggestions, but I know that what works for me might not have any affect on them at all.  It's just the way this is.

Exercise.  I was a runner before the accident, and I've tried to continue, mostly for Kelci, because I know she would want me to.  She was proud of me for what I have been accomplishing with it.  I feel a normalness when I run or do any other physical activity, like biking or swimming, that I rarely get anywhere else.  I think it's because running (and exercise in general) is so raw, primative.  It's very much you and your thoughts.  The moments I have felt the most connected to Kelci have been when I've been running and swimming, so I like to do these often.  It might even be obsessive, but there are worst obsessions one can have dealing with this. Running also shows me how limited my body is here, and I often sense that Kelci isn't feeling those limitations where she is now.  I know everyone doesn't buy into that, but it is comforting to me.  I don't have all the answers,but I'm open minded and respectful of others beliefs.

There is also the whole scientific thing with endorphin release and all that.  I can only speak for myself on this, I just feel better after I exercise in general.  I feel happier, more focused, more productive, more inspired and just overall feel better about myself.  My immeadiate family seems to get the same effects, and all of us are trying to stay active.  It works.  I don't know why, but it does.

Living Well.  This ties into the exercising, and what I spoke of before about the promises I made to Kelci. Even though this is the most devasting thing that I can ever imagine happening to me or anyone else, succumbing to the despair wouldn't help me or anyone around me.  It just makes sense to try to be as positive as possible, to try to live a good life, to continue to have fun, to be happy in spite of it and to do things you love.  On the days I can't do it for myself, I do it for Kelci, because I know it's what she would want. 

People are trying to help. 
They need to help.  Let them when you can.

For me this has included reaching out to friends and letting them reach out to me.  In the beginning you seem to be surrounded by people, but that slowly goes away. My suggestion is to embrace it when it's there and take up every offer and oppurtunity when you can.  I go out to dinner, go on bike rides, go for walks, whatever is suggested I do.  Somedays, I'm not sure that I want to, but I do it anyway because I know I just might find exactly what I need by being open to new things. It's out of my comfort zone, but hell, everything is out of my comfort zone, so I just go for it.  So far it's worked out well for me.  People are trying to help, so why not let them. 

Having Purpose. I've spoke of this before, but it really has become my life mission now.  I have this unquenchable need to make sure something good comes out of this horrible tragedy.  That for me is still undefined, but I know it involves memorializing Kelci with charity work.  On the days I focus on this, I feel hope.  Hope is something you can't live without when your dreams and life expectations are suddenly crushed.

Another thing that I found helps me is helping others.  Reaching out to others who are going through something similar and trying to ease their pain brings me strength and comfort.  I didn't ask for this path, who would, but sometimes, for whatever reason you are chosen for a journey you didn't expect.  The only thing I can try to do is do the best I can with what I've been given, and if that includes helping others find their way, so be it.  In the process it helps me, and that's all I can ask for.