Grief is uncomfy

People don’t like to talk about grief. And I get it. It makes you uncomfortable. It can be awkward. The person you’re talking to might cry or be angry or be dealing with a variety of different emotions, sometimes all at once. Sometimes it might seem as if all they talk about is the one they lost. About their pain. About their grief. If it’s uncomfortable for you, imagine how it is for THEM.

But this is their life now.

This is MY life now.

It consumes me. Yes, I go about my day, every day. Naturally. But do you think there is a moment that I don’t think about my son? Think about Bryce and the life he isn’t having now because of that split second decision by that man one Friday night in December?

My 12 year old is going to think about this for the rest of his life as well. Grief will be part of his life for the rest of his life. Bryce’s other siblings will have the same life. As will his father and step mother.

This *IS* our life now.

I now follow different social media pages with grief support and quotes. People comment their experiences and I’ve seen that I’m not alone in some of mine. Some of the unhelpful comments, such as telling someone that their loved one is “in a better place”. No. Just stop. No one likes that. Or telling someone to get over it. Or to move on. Or saying “still?” when they tell you that they’re struggling. Yes, people actually say those things.

Another thing that sucks is that people eventually drift away.

They stop asking how you’re doing. They stop checking on you.

They stop talking about the one you’re missing deep in your heart.

Even family is guilty. I have family that started by texting every day to ask if I was okay. How I was holding up. How my other son was doing.

Then…just…stopped. Nothing.

I have a family member who has NEVER messaged or called. Never. Not once since my son died despite calling my dad every single day while he was at my house for an entire week after my son’s accident. Sometimes multiple times per day. But to check on me? No. To talk to him. Can’t take 3 fucking seconds to text me. Can’t take 3 fucking seconds to check on their other grandson. Nope. I suppose that’s too much to ask for. But I don’t want fake bullshit sympathy anyway.

This experience has shown me who truly cares.

It’s been my best friend who came to my house in the middle of the night and just sat there while I sat on my couch, numb. Came over the next day and just sat with me so I wouldn’t be alone. My son’s big sister who checks on my often even though she’s hurting too. My son’s girlfriend who calls me almost every day to tell me she loves me. My son’s friends who check on me. My coworkers who check on me, ask how I’m doing, follow my blog and social media posts, and give me hugs. My manager and medical director who don’t care that I wear Bryce’s t-shirts to work every day. My girlfriend who lets me be a total hot mess when I need to be one, listens to me vent, listens to me talk about Bryce, asks how I’m doing, asks how Carter is doing, asks how Rory is doing, and even came over one night to sit with me when I was upset and helped me through a panic attack after reading the official police report for the first time.

Even my ex-husband and his wife check on me often. We’ve been divorced longer than we were married. We had years early after the divorce where we did not get along. Where all we did was fight unless Bryce was present. We later started to all get along and now we’re a bizarre family. The two of them check on me. And I check on them.

But blood family? Nope. Too hard to ask how I’m doing I guess? Too uncomfortable for THEM? Too busy? No clue. But it fucking hurts. Of course, it isn’t all of my family. There are quite a few who do check in with me. A cousin who had stuffed bears made for me and Carter out of one of Bryce’s favorite shirts. Other cousins who text or message now and then just to say they love us and ask how we’re doing.

But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t sting when others don’t. Even if I don’t always want to talk about it. A simple text to say “I am thinking of you and I love you” would mean a lot for someone dealing with grief.

To be honest though, I’m not sure if I want them to now. If I have noticed after only 2 months how quickly it stopped, and I’m mentioning it here, which might make its way to them, I don’t want a pity call.

I don’t want a pity text.

Take this as a lesson from someone in the fucking foxhole of grief right now after losing a child.

They know when you’ve pulled away.

YOUR discomfort over discussing their grief is nothing compared to what they’re feeling and all you’ll do by ignoring it is cause them to pull away from YOU.