My dad died from cancer on December 22nd, 2010. I was 14 years old. It was heartbreaking. I had watched him get sicker over the course of his five month illness, but it had never really occurred to me that he would actually die.
In the almost six years it’s been since my dad died, I’ve learned a lot about grief.
We live in a death – denying society.
We live in a society that doesn’t like to talk about death. When someone dies, it’s very common for there to be a funeral or some sort of celebration of life where people talk about all of their good memories with the person, but when they leave, they forget about the whole thing. Death is an uncomfortable topic because it involves a lot of emotions, so many people tend to avoid talking about it altogether. If you’ve ever experienced a loss, you may notice that when discussing death or someone who has died, people tend to get nervous and try to change the subject. This is very hurtful, as it reinforces the idea that nobody wants to talk about death, making the griever feel alone and creating the illusion that everyone has forgotten about their loved one because they have died.
Our society also uses a lot of euphemisms for death, such as “passing away” or that they’ve been “lost.” These sayings drive me crazy, because it reinforces how society smoothes over death and pretends that it doesn’t exist.
People don’t know what to say to you.
People get very awkward about death, and often say stupid things. Perhaps the most common thing said to those that are grieving is that their loved one “is in a better place.” This is the worst possible thing you could say to someone is grieving. While the deceased may not be “suffering” anymore; if I could choose between my dad being in pain, but still here, or being dead, I would choose to have him here.
Teenagers and young adults have a hard time responding to grief, perhaps because they haven’t had much exposure to death. In my experience, I found some of my friends almost ignored me when I told them that my dad had died, acknowledging it with a passive “oh, okay,” and then moving on. One girl didn’t believe me when I told her, and called “bullsh*t” on the whole thing.
I’ve also found that when people end up saying dumb things to you about your loss, you end up having to either take it, or comforting them when they realize that they’ve been inappropriate. For example, when people ask about my dad, I have to clarify that he died several years ago. They then often get embarrassed and I end up saying sorry to them and pretending that everything is okay. I had a teacher who e-mailed me several weeks after my dad died, excusing the fact that her message was “so late” because she didn’t know what to say to me. I had to thank her for her “kind words” even though she spent the majority of the message making my loss about herself. I wear my dad’s wedding ring on a chain around my neck and get countless jokes about Lord of the Rings and how I’m “too young to be married.” I have to laugh it off and pretend like everything is okay, when really I want to cry and slap them across the face. I’ve found that the best thing to do in situations like these is nod and smile politely and then remove yourself from the situation.
You won’t enjoy major holidays as much as you once did.
Holidays can be difficult to celebrate without your loved one; whether it’s been one month or five years since they died. Birthdays, Christmases, and Halloweens never quite feel the same without the person you’ve lost. My dad died a few days before Christmas, and although I love the holiday and still look forward to that time of year, the sadness of his death still overshadows it.
Holidays can also be painful because they remind you so much of the person and how they’re no longer with you. For me, Father’s Day is the one of the absolute worst times of year. Not only is it a day centered on spending time with your dad; but for weeks ahead of it there is a constant reminder in the media that the special day to tell your dad that you love him is approaching.
When someone you love dies, you also get a new sort of “holiday” to celebrate: the anniversary of their death. Every year on that day, you’re taken back to that horrible moment when your loved one died and your life changed. Everyone is different, but for me, the day is deeply personal. Although I may not express my feeling outwardly, inside I am a mess. On that day, more than any other, I feel like I am “going through the motions” of life, just trying to get through the hours until the day is done. This day is also another opportunity for people to say dumb things to you about grief and your loved one’s death. For example, I was once told to “cheer up” and “stop being so miserable” on this day.
You find out who your real friends are.
Losing my dad taught me a lot about the people around me. Many of my friends from school were unsure of what to say to me so they didn’t say anything. I knew that everyone was aware of what had happened, so their silence hurt me. Thankfully, I had a few good friends who have supported me throughout my grief journey, whether it was by staying by my side at the funeral or coming to my defense when others made hurtful comments.
Everyone grieves differently.
Grief manifests in everyone differently. When my dad first died, I withdrew into myself and focused on school. I did my best to pretend like nothing had happened and bottled up all of my emotions. This eventually lead to a term I coined as the “grief bomb,” where I reached a breaking point and all of the feelings I’d been holding onto exploded out of me. I then sought out different healthy outlets for my grief, such as exercise and writing. However, everyone grieves differently. Some people’s grief may consist of sitting on the couch and wallowing in their feelings, while others may push it away because they’re not ready to deal with their emotions yet, and both are completely okay. My grief, my rules.
Grief is a journey.
Grief is a process without an end date. No matter if it’s been 10 months or 10 years since your loved one died, living in a world without them doesn’t get any easier. Grief doesn’t go away – you just get better at managing it.