Did you really say that?

For the most part, I've been sheltered from insensitive words that I hear people say to grieving people.  In that respect, I consider myself lucky, because words can really hurt even when the intentions behind them are good.  I've been able to use that perspective in most cases and just brush odd things people say aside knowing that they mean well, don't know what to say, or are so uncomfortable that what they mean to say comes out all wrong. I get it, I've been there myself. 

Here however, are a few things that I would like to tell others not to say (I know other people who could add a lot more to this list, but for now, I'll speak for myself:

Kelci and I in Ithaca, NY in 2008. 

"At least you have other children." My other children will NEVER be a replacement for the child I lost. They are different. They don't erase the pain or make it easier (they are of course a comfort and a blessing), but the pain of losing Kelci isn't made easier because I have them. My child is gone, and that is the loss I am dealing with. My other children are a source of comfort, of course, but there are times that more grief comes because of them. I look at them at see what they lost too, and I see what my grief is doing to them. I obsess over Kelci, that takes away from them. The mother I was before the accident is no longer here, they lost that too, and right now, I wonder if they feel bad because so much of who I am and what I do now utterly revolves around Kelci. Our plans for holidays, are about her. Trips we are planning are for her. Every thought I have, ends with her.  For me, it's what I need, but is it best for them?  They say it's OK, I have my doubts. 

"It will get easier." Maybe it will, maybe it won't, but in the world I live in right now, that seems impossible, so hearing it is difficult.

"The holidays will be SO hard." WE KNOW!  Well, actually, this year, we don't.  We have never lived through a Christmas with out Kelci, yet.  We survived Halloween and Thanksgiving, and I don't remember Labor Day, because we found ways to do it, and that's what we are trying to do for Christmas.  I personally have accepted the fact that no matter what I do Christmas, and all holidays, are going to come anyway, so I've decided that I need to find a way to make them bearable.  Ignoring them won't work, at least for me, because even then there's that "big white elephant" standing in the corner.  I personally believe it's better to face things on your own terms.

As is the case often, my daughter, Michelle, gives me great perspective.  A few days ago she said to me, "You know mom, people keep telling me that the holidays are going to be hard, but you know what, we don't know that.  Maybe they won't be, but if we focus on that, and keep saying they will be, then I think they will.  I'm not going to do that.  I'm going to try to enjoy them, and see what happens.  Maybe they will be OK."  Love that girl, so much, and you know what, maybe she's right.  In any case, we will try.  Things won't be the same (of course), but maybe, because we try to find something to make them OK, or we focus on all that IS still good, maybe they will be OK.  Reminding us, or downright telling us, that they are going to be hard, well, don't, it doesn't help.

"You need to get over it, and stop writing things about it for attention.  We've all had losses."  I need to make it clear, that one doesn't "get over"  a loss like this, ever, and the loss of a child is different than other loss.  I don't diminish other loss, I've been there too, but this is different and until you've experienced it, it's hard to describe.  It's my child.  My beautiful daughter that through the miracle of life I created.  She held my hopes and dreams and was a part of me.  Now, a part of me is forever missing, until we meet again.

I'm not so sure when this one was said it was well meaning, but I want to make it clear that I don't write about this for attenion.  I write about it to help myself work through it, and truth be told, I write because others say it helps them too.  Does it bring me attention sometimes?  Yes, but not from something I would ever, ever want. 

Yes, I've heard all of these, and more.  They were for the most part, believe it or not, all said from a place of love and from people who were genuinely trying to help.  I know that, and that's why I didn't completely loose it when they were said to me.  Most people do mean well, and I know that, and that's why I can let things slide.  The sting still hits though, and there are times that I would love to take people aside and tell them to be more careful what they say.  Maybe, I could save someone else a little grief. 

What bothers me, might not bother someone else and vice verse.  I guess what I'm trying to say is that it's hard all around, so just try to be more aware, extra sensitive and more compassionate to the feelings of someone who is grieving.  For me, hearing "I'm thinking about you and Kelci," helps most of the time.  I especially love hearing her name, most parents do, so if you aren't sure that's not a bad place to start. Keeping it simple always seems to work.