Grief Club

Unfortunately, thats not the same club followed by a dope bass drop and an unz unz unz unz!

2016 was BOMB. I dont know about you, but for me it was fantastic. The first 7 months were filled with adventure, awkward moments, travel and reminiscing with old friends and making new lasting friendships. The last 5 months were as great as when that red sock slips in with your whites and you just have to roll with it. I never thought I’d end up where I’m at. While visiting home for the holidays an old friend said, “when I heard you were halfway across the states nannying, I couldn’t believe it!” She’s right. I cant believe it either. I’m a scaredy cat who hates change and anything that resembles it. But I don’t want to talk about that. 2016 was great, it was rough, but lets move on. I thought about posting a whole blog about New Years Resolutions, but I know as I typed that I was rolling my eyes, so I imagine you were doing the same. What I want to talk about doesn’t apply to everyone, and that is a good thing. I hope this doesn’t apply to you. I hope this may never apply to you. But for those that it does, for those who love people who have experienced this pain, this ones for you #micdrop

I’ve recently been tagged in a lot of blog posts about the death of a parent, and I completely agree with every single one that I’ve read. This post isn’t to make you cry your eyes out and have puffy eyes tomorrow at work. It’s not to say my loss was/is harder than yours. I guess it’s just something that has been on my mind for awhile. If you would like to sob while you read this though, feel free to listen to the song that plays every time someone dies in Greys.

Death sucks. There is no escaping the grief that comes with it either. My dad has been gone more than half my life now. I don’t remember what he sounded like, his smell, his favorite meal. I think there’s a baby video of me tucked away in the pile of vhs’ mom has, where he’s only in it for 2 minutes. I don’t have memories to hold onto, which makes my grief linger a bit longer. Whether the death of a parent was unexpected, or they were sick for awhile-their death still stings. Every year I dread fathers day,big holidays, his birthday, and sad anniversary. Though I never had the chance to celebrate any of those with him, or none that I can remember I cant help but wonder what it would be like if he were sitting across the table from me at Thanksgiving. The other night I was talking to my friend about nanny-hood (I just made that a thing) and how I feel like a mom when it comes to getting the kids to eat. A memory popped into my head about a time when my dad had just moved back home and made my sister and I dinner. I wasn’t a fan of green beans, and to this day they’re okay. But I refused to eat them, plugging my nose wasn’t enough to make me swallow those bad boys. I thought I could get away with it, being Dads favorite and all. NOPE. He sternly told me that I’d be sitting at that table all night until I finished my green beans. I was shocked that Dad would pull that on me. What I wouldn’t give to have that moment again. I’d eat green beans for the rest of my life if that meant my Dad could be here.

Days like today, it feels like the grief is never ending. I feel like while writing this that I’ve gone through all the stages of grief again. I get especially stuck on the sadness and bargaining part. Do ya feel me? Even after serving a mission, and testifying of the great plan of happiness that our Savior has made and provided for us, I still struggle. I know we will be with our loved ones again, but I don’t want to wait 60 more years to be able to do that. Most days it’s a breeze, and honestly sometimes I don’t realize that he’s gone. Sure he was a big part of my life, and his death has changed me forever. But when you go without someone for so long, you just sorta forget. Somedays a small memory from a story an older sibling has shared will pop up and I wonder if thats my Dad just tapping me on the shoulder like, “I’m still here.”

I don’t want to sound like the Plan of Happiness provides zero comfort, because that’s not true. It absolutely 100% does. I know that. I feel that. I believe thats how I’m still here, trekking on every single day, especially through the sad ones. But for me, and maybe for you, it doesn’t provide comfort on days I am especially grieving. Maybe it’s supposed to be like that, we are supposed to learn from our trials, right? How great would it be if we go through this terrible trial, wait our grief out and then BAM we are happy and never miss them? That has its pros and cons. Basically, if you feel this way, I want you to know you are not alone and it is OKAY to feel that way. It’s okay to want ahug from them. A close friend of mine always says, “What I wouldn’t give just for a phone call every 10 years!” It’s okay to listen to their favorite song on repeat for 8 hours straight #comeandgetyourloveonreplayfordays

What’s not okay is to bottle it up. To try and forget because it hurts too much. To keep it private, to never talk about them or your struggles. #beentheredonethat I was a mess, and still am sometimes. But people were placed in our lives for a reason, and I’m grateful for the friends I have who’ve gone through a similar situation. If you haven’t gone through this trial but have friends or family who have-reach out!! It is a sensitive situation, and every person handles grief differently. I have 3 siblings and none of us had the same grief pattern when my Dad died. Some cried, but could talk about him and laugh. For me, I didn’t want to remember him. So be sensitive, but not overly sensitive because I know I needed someone to help me remember him, to hold me while I cried as they told stories. Be that person. You know your people better than I do, so this isn’t going to be exact. Love them. Don’t just say you’re there for them, show it. Don’t ever say, “you’ll get over this.” because death is not something you can just step over. It’s not an obstacle in their way. It’s like a plane crashed, an 8.0 earthquake, and a rabid dog bit your dominant leg and hand off, all at the same time. It’s terrible, frightening, shocking, and will be with you forever. Don’t tell them to stop crying. I feel weird talking about my dad to close friends, it tastes weird when I say “dad” and especially to tell stories about when he was alive. It’s foreign to me. Talking about it is hard, so I usually just cry and thats that. Thats how I feel better. Be the friend that offers to take them to their parents grave if they don’t want to go alone. Be that friend that listens to their story, and tries to understand. Don’t give their grief a timeline, and certainly don’t broadcast their grief to others.

For those of you who are new to the club, I wish you weren’t. For you old timers, I’m grateful for you and your strong and REAL example. Thanks for not sugarcoating it. When I was 10 months out as a missionary, I sat on a couch while 10 year old Sara sat across from me telling me her Dad died when she was 9. My heart broke as tears filled my eyes for the pain and grief this little girl is going to experience for the rest of her life. I saw 10 year old me sitting there, and wanted to scoop her up and sit her on my lap. Since then, I try every chance I get to remind Sara of her potential, her talents, her gift to this world, and how special she is. Do that. Help your friends. Ask them about the people they’ve lost. Compliment their beauty, strength and talents. Help them to know that though tragedy has struck, they can go on.

My experience with this particular trial has changed me. It made me love so much deeper, and maybe thats a good thing. Often times I feel ridiculous with how much I love and grasp on. I met an old man at the airport a few months ago who was off to say goodbye to his sick mother. I loved him. I wanted to scoop him up and put him in my pocket. So sometimes that deep love isn’t so great, it’s probably weird. It also taught me to make every moment count. I love my people. I love my Dad. He taught me so much in the short time we had together. I know what to do if a bear tries to attack me, I mean I couldn’t tell ya right now what that is but I bet in that situation it’d all come back to me. Hearing stories about him always pain my soul just a bit, but it makes me smile when Mom says I’m just like him. I still cant spend too long in his room where he grew up, that hurts my heart. Just like Dr. Leo Marvin said, baby-steps Bob. You’ve got this, whoever you are reading this. You are so loved. You are so far from being forgotten. Do not allow yourself to feel that way for too long. I can tell you that because I let myself be constantly sad for too long. I’m not perfect, I’ve been crying like a baby for the past hour. It happens. You are loved.

I know that our Savior Jesus Christ, lives and loves all of us. He is there, even in our deepest, darkest times. I mentioned before that I don’t feel comfort when I’m grieving, but I want to clarify. When I’m having my moment of sorrow and pain, I don’t feel comfort. I feel alone, empty, forgotten and that I just can’t possibly go on. Just when I think I can’t pull myself out of this hole, I feel the warm embrace of my Savior. He doesn’t lift me, He doesn’t tell me anything, He just holds me. I am grateful for those moments. I love you, I am hugging you right now. I wish I could take away your pain, or kick you out of the club. I can’t. But I love you, deeply. And so does our Savior, always.

On particularly rough days when I’m sure I can’t possibly endure, I like to remind myself that my track record for getting through bad days so far is 100%, and thats pretty good.