Grief sucks.
Nasty.
Overwhelming.
Sometimes consuming.
It has its way - for a day, week, month, year - or more.
It ambushes you in the most unlikely spots (Thanks to Janis).
Ambushing grief waves.
A boon to the tissue companies.
Heartbreaking. Overpowering.
Grief can be so devastating to our health it can actually kill (Broken Heart Syndrome).
Grief drives us to our knees, sometimes in complete despair, sometimes in seeking relief in prayer.
Grief can erase memory, of passing of time, events, comfort and solace given.
Face it. Grief sucks.
Leigh and I have been dealing with this devastating grief, sense of loss, overpowering ambushing grief waves since Saturday, June 1st. We have no memory of the night, except for crying and prayer, nor of the ride home, except for crying and prayer. We did not want to sleep on Sunday, and have real difficulty with the evening hours since then. Evening hours are family hours, when we often call our children, and grandchildren, or interact with them over social media. Now we are one short - there is one missing.
Intermixed with these feelings of grief are also feelings of relief. No more hiding medicines, locking doors, hiding valuables, wondering where he is, what he is doing, is he safe? We had little to no awareness of the accommodations and adaptations we had made in our home to help him. We made these changes simply because we wanted to help, because we cared, because we love him. Our counselor has told us this feeling of relief is natural.
Guilt? Oh man, do we have guilt, and plenty to spare! Why weren't we home with him? Maybe we could have helped him? Why was he alone? All these questions, and more have echoed in our minds. Never mind that we have a life, that visiting our other children and grandchildren could have a place in our life. Our counselor says this is natural as well.
One day at a time has taken on new meaning. Sometimes it feels like second to second, minute to minute, hour to hour. And then, once again, this terrible sense of despair, tragedy, and hopelessness crawls up and consumes.
Face it. Grief sucks.
Wow! You said it all! Thanks so much for sharing and putting it out there. I got/get so tired of saying I’m fine when I’m not, or trying to get people to understand why I’m not the same person as I was before Lee’s death (I’m not. A part of my life is no longer here). My prayers to you and Leigh and all who love Mark for peace and strength.
ReplyDeletePrayers for peace and strength to you too. Our lives have changed dramatically since Mark's death. We know he is with Jesus and struggling no more, but we miss him so. Every time I turn around, he's there. A memory. All memories and so glad I have them. Thanks so much for showing your understanding having gone through the loss of a child too. A parents worst nightmare! Nothing else has devastated me more. Thank goodness we have Jesus! What do people do without Him?
DeleteIt says unknown but I am Leigh Kinsey.
DeleteI'm just curious if Mark was ever forced into rehab. The first thing the group is told is ONLY one in thirty make it. That doesn't mean all of you won't or none of you will. I was the lucky one of thirty. The rest are gone along with a few in prison . Your first sentence is what's drilled into an addicts head. I remember curling into a fetal position ,waiting for the next meeting . I remember- it was terrible being out of rehab,for I had lost my family and friends,but the ones I got hammered with were more than willing to bring me back into that endless cycle of getting well only to fall on my addiction once more. I discovered the phone at that time,reaching out to the crumpled piece of paper with people who gave me their phone numbers when things were heading to using again . I used rehab as rest stops,for chasing down my need for that feeling of escape felt so strong. While lying in a hospital for twelve days ,I was offered one more chance at rehab. I had been thinking beforehand that this crazy circle must end,so I took the counselor up on his offer. I was kicked out after eighteen days with two counsellors telling me "we have to make room for someone who stands a chance . The last house on the street was closed to me now and it was my thinking that " Oh no,I'm hopeless". AA saved my life 25 years ago.
ReplyDeleteI am so glad AA saved your life 25 years ago - it doesn't work for everyone. Mark chose rehab, groups, counselors, and all of the support we could provide. I'm rather curious which 'first sentence' gets drilled into an addicts head? Face it, grief sucks?
DeleteMark was not "forced" into rehab. He wanted help. We watched him struggle for years and were there when he needed us. We never gave up on our child. Addiction is a horrible disease and one not taken seriously. Too many so called counselors aren't really there to help. I'm sorry this happened to you but so glad AA helped. Mark also tried AA. He tried so hard. We saw.
DeleteIt says unknown, but I am Leigh Kinsey.
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