Grandparents' Day

While checking the calendar last week, I noticed that today, the second Sunday in September, is national Grandparents' Day.  I had no idea that we had an official day designated in their honour.  As someone who loves celebrations, I wonder how I missed this since it's been around for almost twenty years.  I also noticed that this year, the holiday would fall on the 7th of the month, coinciding with my monthly Boal Memorial visit.  Connecting the two threads, my thoughts turned from celebrating, to perhaps marking the occasion slightly differently - it would be a fitting day to take my mother-in-law along to visit the setting of Michael's remains, as she had once expressed an interest, but never been.  That thought led me to once again consider the trials of a grieving grandparent.  In addition to having to process the pain of losing a grandchild, there is the added difficulty of bearing witness to their child's pain of grieving the death of their child.  For the most part, the grandparent's experience is endured with very little support.  So for me, this Grandparents' Day will embrace honouring the challenges as well as experiencing the joys of being a grandparent, because "coincidentally", it turns out that I will be spending time with my two little blessings this evening. 

I Still Call Bullshit

This morning, while placing flowers at the memorial plaque engraved with my son's birth and death dates, the voice in my head is still calling bullshit.  On a soul level, I understand Michael's passing, however, as his mother, I doubt if it will ever make sense.  The accident happened two and a half years ago today.  It might as well be two and a half months ago, since time has done little, if anything, to alter my day-to-day reality with respect to this intense loss.  How could it?  He is gone. He will never again give me a hug, never again call me on the phone, never again sit down to a family meal.  Regardless of what is happening in my day, experiencing joy or sadness or anything in-between, this companion called grief is with me, always.  I would not have anticipated this is how it would be, but as with any profound life experience, you don't know until you are in it.

Moving On?

Moving on.  Well-meaning individuals tossing versions of this phrase into conversations.  With regards to grieving the death of my son.  "I'm glad to see you're moving on."  Implying leaving something behind.  As if putting it somewhere in the past is the answer.  Not relating to that concept at all.  Not moving anywhere.  Living with it.  Choosing to be in the present as much as possible.  Experiencing what is, right now. Extremely sad that Michael is gone.  Beyond description.  Living with that reality.  This not something that can change.  At the same time, loving the presence of my granddaughter.  Lucky enough to be kissing and holding her often.  Appreciating that immensely.  Grief and joy co-existing daily.  One not precluding the other.  Moving on?  Not part of the equation.

Last of the Firsts

Well, here it is.  March 7th showing itself once again.  This time, marking the first anniversary of Michael's passing.  Committing early on to fully experiencing this grieving process.  Giving myself the gift of this entire first year.  Without any expectation of what it might look or feel like.  Not pushing anything away.  Greatly appreciating the luxury of being able to do so.  Now having a personal reference point for an entire year's worth of emotionally charged days this life altering event presented.  A milestone of sorts.  Saying goodbye to the last of the firsts.

Adapting to New Realities

Speaking to a woman recently widowed.  One of five mothers in my circle of friends and acquaintances dealing with this new challenge within the past year.  Conversation turning to the topic of grieving. Listening to each other's stories.  Comparing similarities and differences between our situations.  She, of course, missing her husband.  At the same time, imagining that losing a child would be more difficult to deal with.  Two words in particular striking a chord. Untimely death.  Not heard it expressed so succinctly before. Regardless of the particulars, all of us adapting to our new realities.  To the best of our abilities. 

Unique Journey

In discussion with other parents experiencing the loss of a child.  One mother mentioning something most can identify with.  Likely our biggest common denominator.  "The most important rule in life got broken."  Outliving ones child.  All of us branching out from there.  So many aspects influencing this journey of grieving.  Just as with any huge life altering experience.  The age of the child.  How she died.  The quality of life he was having.  The nature of the parent child relationship.  Family dynamics.  Personality traits.  Spiritual beliefs or the lack thereof.  Personal challenges the parent was facing in addition to this death.  Degree of available resources and support.  A unique journey for each one of us.  No two paths exactly alike.

Easier?

People occasionally asking, "Is it getting easier yet?"  Finding myself wondering what that even means.  Easier?  Implying less difficult, less pain, less discomfort.  Unsure how to answer.  What are we measuring? Eight months into grieving the loss of a child.   The phrase WTF still surfacing many times a day.  Not experiencing a single wakeful hour without thinking of him.  Of them.  An improvement over every few minutes.  Does this qualify?  Overall, understanding the question to be a form of caring.  Wondering how things are going.  Innocently asking. Truthfully answering, "As well as can be expected". 

Six Months Today

Grieving the loss of a loved one is difficult.  Two simultaneously, doubly hard.  Six months today.  Both of them in or around my thoughts most of the day.  Some of the night.  Grief still residing deeply in so much of my being.  Eased at times by the knowing they are together.  That was Michael and Kelly's destiny.  Finding a measure of comfort in this.  Also buoyed by their smiling faces when asking them for help with all of this.  Diesel on occasion showing up with his grin.   Envisioning them watching over all those who loved them, with pride.  Observing us carrying on to best of our ability.  One hundred percent behind us.  And always in our hearts.

Living with Death

Parents grieving the death of a child.  Sisters mourning the loss of their brother.  Friends deeply missing one of their own.  This morning's paper filled with stories mirroring ours.  Human beings dealing with these inescapable human experiences, each in their own way.  Learning how to live with death.  Something asked of each one of us the moment we chose to be born.

Not Too Soon

"Is it not too soon?"  "In my culture, the bereaved do not attend celebrations for a year." "This would be considered disrespectful in my family." These some of the comments I heard during the time leading up to the memorial golf tournament.  I had not even considered that concern when we began planning a few weeks after the accident.  These remarks were reminders that the "rules" for grieving and mourning are very diverse.  In some cultures the immediate family members wear black for an extended period of time.  In others, mourning attire is white.  Not black and white.  Black or white.  Or red, yellow, purple.  As with most rituals and traditions, there is no universal "right" or "wrong".  As for me, I will continue to make my choices based on what resonates within.  Judging from the feedback, that event resulted in so many experiencing some solace, moments of happiness, and a slight lessening of the pain.  How on earth would it have been more "proper" to wait a year or more?