It’s been a while. Lately though I’ve had a lot of little triggers that have brought back some of the hard memories.
I realize that to survive my brain has shut doors- and if I’m honest, not just to the bad things but to the good things because sometimes my brain takes me bad places.
And although I’ve gotten a bit better at not going to that dark place I still do. But it has been a while- and I know a bit better how to climb out.
But as much as I struggle with the bad it is nice to remember some of the sweet little things like his hands in my hair. Some of those doors have slid open too. And I’ve watched a video I haven’t been able to in many years.
I also realize that now that my brain has used it with Perry, it is a coping mechanism it also uses for anything. So I now have blanks sometimes where pieces of my life should be.
It leaves me feeling a little fractured at times.
I remind myself I am more than my loss. Perry was more than his death. And I live on.
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I tried to comfort another parent this week. To tell them that after 4 or 5 years life doesn’t hurt so bad. Her answer was “I will always miss him”. And yes you do, but scar tissue generally forms and living doesn’t hurt so dang bad anymore.
I don’t think she wants to ever feel better. I think she’s in that trap of feeling like if the pain is any less you are somehow not loving them as much anymore. And I think it is a pretty common place to be stuck some of the time. Maybe she tells herself it is because my loss was somehow less than, I’m not really sure. But every time I see her she has aged a little more.
Every loss parent usually ages. Our hair goes grey and wrinkles appear rapidly. There are moments you look in the mirror and are startled at the changes.
My body hurts too much for my age.
I really hope she is able to see light between the trees and doesn’t stay there- and sometimes I think that’s an alternative ending that I could have easily gone to myself. It takes a lot of tiny steps and clawing to keep from sliding there.
For those of you still reading- your love does not have to always equal your pain. You may feel like letting go of pain is losing your child, but in time your brain may lock away even the good memories of your child if you stay there too long. Your child is not just memories of a coffin. It is hands in hair or for older children maybe the first time you sat beside them and they drove with their learner’s permit. It is their smile, the sounds they made, the things they loved.
Your brain is an incredible thing and it will often kick in to slide hurt behind a wall. Sometimes it doesn’t and I think you can consume yourself in the pain. It can slowly burn your body up.
There’s no set timeline. But I really wish for every parent out there- that we won’t lose our child or ourselves to our pain. You aren’t a failure if you are stuck- if you need to please ask for help. It may take a lot of effort to find a support group, or the right counselor, but the right one can make you feel seen. You didn’t choose to be here, but it is going to take a lot of work to keep from being engulfed.
I had another parent tell me that we choose our outcome. That we choose who we are. That parents either grow in compassion or can’t see outside themselves in their pain. And if we are honest- maybe we can all be a mix of those at times. My hope is that I become Perry’s legacy and not collateral damage of his death, and that is a choice I try to consciously make.
