My cousin was killed in a car accident on Sunday. Why do these things keep happening? It’s not fair. He left behind a wife and two little kids, he was only 27. I spent yesterday in a daze. I KNOW what his wife is going through, I KNOW how she is feeling, I KNOW how bad it sucks. I just want to wrap her up in a warm, fuzzy blanket and protect her. I want to save her from all the yucky stuff, and I don’t even know her that well. In fact, if I came at her with a blanket she would probably call the cops….
I want to let her know that things get better, but do they? Not really, they just get different. Sometimes different is good, sometimes different is bad, but most of the time different is just that: Different.
Knowing what she is going through has brought me back, back to those first few mind-numbing weeks. The weeks I don’t really remember much. The “fog”. That haze that is so hard to fight through, the haze that keeps the sun from shining. The haze that pushes down on you and keeps you from feeling. Oh, how I hated that.
Luckily, the haze does lift, little, by little. Small smiles come back. Little giggles. Moments of self-confidence, and success. Surviving each day is success. Heck, showering is a success. They return.
I would love to say that one year is a magic mark. It’s not, I am discovering. The one year mark is just a mark of progress, not completion. I wish I knew when I could be done, I wish I knew when this could be over, but I don’t.
I don’t think grief is a fixable problem. Grief is just a process, a process that you can’t avoid.