Tuesday, April 26, 2011
I've always thought that the Line between Love and Hate was a very thin one. One that can be easily traversed and reversed. How many of us have had relationships with neighbors, friends or family sour after an experience or series of events? What once was sweet and savory quickly becomes rotten and rank. It's a tragedy, really. But part of the human experience. One learns the lesson that relationships - like all things - are fragile and require continual maintenance. Kindness, thoughtfulness, love and understanding must always be in order. And when it is not, forgiveness is necessary. How much better would the world be if we all lived these precepts?
Along our Path of Grief, I am learning the same is true of the feelings of extreme sorrow. In an instant, sorrow can quickly turn to frustration and/or anger. I've experienced it repeatedly recently. Case in point: Ashton can't wrap his 3 year old mind around the fact that Bennett is g o n e. Our original explanation of "He lives with Heavenly Father now" has worn off and he. wants. answers. None of this bull crap beat-around-the-bush stuff anymore (sorry for the strong language, but that's where it's at). So at least five times a day (sometimes less, sometimes much more), he queries when Bennett will be home to play with his Ashton. The first few times, it just breaks my heart. I want to take his heartache and loneliness away. I want to put all the pain of the situation on myself and protect my children from the consequences of this unexpected life change for our family. But as the painfully innocent questions continue throughout the day, I find myself fighting frustration and anger and ranting within myself. I've already TOLD you FIVE TIMES today, son! What else do you want me to say? HE'S NOT. COMING. BACK. Not in an hour, not in a day, not in a month, not in a year, not in YOUR LIFE! He's GONE! Now quit asking me all these questions because I don't HAVE the answers!!! All I know is He's gone. He's gone. He's gone.
Just writing those words makes me cry. Cry at the reality of our situation. Cry at the things our family is having to deal with. And cry that I'm not more patient and understanding with the stages of Grief. Grief is a butt kicker, I'll tell ya. I've always prided myself in being a self sufficient, independent and not-overly-weepy woman but this is s o m e t h i n ' e l s e. I'll be changed forever, that's for sure. And I hope - in the long run - that will be a good thing.
Last weekend, a woman told me that it must be nice to finally (think 3 months since Bennett's death) be at the unemotional part of our grieving. I looked at her as if she had horns growing from her head. What. The. Heck. I told her that she could not understand how wrong that analysis was unless she had experienced profound loss herself. It is not easier. Indeed, it is more difficult. The post traumatic issues are starting to hit. The realities are sinking in and the finality (as in "for the rest of our lives") is breathtaking, in the most literal sense. I ended the conversation by walking away (it got worse as she claimed to know "exactly how I feel" after once having a miscarriage) and wondering how - in her head - she thought in ANY way that her comments would be seen as compassionate, tasteful or comforting. I guess that's another lesson to learn, though. Learning the art of "comforting those that stand in need of comfort." Add that to my "To Be" List.
So - as you can see - I am an incredibly flawed individual. My emotions are currently very close to the surface and the Line between Good and Hard is very thin. I know that I have a Great Advocate and Advisor in my Savior. And I trust that He will be by my side as I figure this all out. It will be a journey, that's for sure. But knowing that is half the battle.
And we will win. We. Will. Win.