The definition of grief, according to Mirriam-Webster: deep sadness caused especially by someone’s death. Seems quite simple. Grief, however, is anything but. Especially when it is the complicated grief of an out-of-order death, such as the death of a child. Sadness does not begin to describe the feeling of this grief. And grief changes as time goes on. It doesn’t go away. It is ever present, but not always as oppressive as it once once. It was almost easier in the earlier days. You expect to be in pain all the time. You expect to want to wallow, you expect to cry multiple times a day. You expect to be sad and broken and shattered. Grief isn’t surprising. It’s a part of you now. And though the pain is unfathomable, you know what to expect. You aren’t blindsided on a daily basis. It just, is.
As time has gone on, though the pain is still very real, I have moments where I am no longer completely consumed by grief. And this is hard. Because I don’t know when those tidal waves will appear full force, knocking me down, washing over me, threatening to drown me. several years ago in 2015 Ariella and among with some great friends discovered an acai bowl place in New Jersey, when we were there for a dance competition. We went at least three times and though there are similar places by us, none that compared to the place in NJ. Well they just opened one up in my area and I decided to head there opening day. There was a line out the door as expected but it was a cheerful mood, a sunny day, and a DJ playing some tunes. While I waited there were 3 songs played in a row that I always connect to Ariella; “High Hopes” because she loved that song and always sang it at the top of her lungs, “Shake it Off” which she danced to during the very weekend in NJ where we discovered these bowls, and “Better when I’m Dancing” which was her tap solo when she could finally dance again., and the last dance she ever performed on stage. This song was also playing as she took her last breaths. I’ve heard all of these songs many times since Ariella died but for some reason this day, the tears instantly hit and I could not stop them. There was chatter and laughter all around and here I am with tears streaming down my face. Grief is a stealthy bitch.
Grief is unpredictable. It’s hard to make plans. I worry I will regret it later. I’ve learned that I need to make sure I have my time to myself. We’ve had so much going on lately it’s been exhausting. But by continuing to run and cycle I’ve kept that outlet I very much need. And if I’ve learned nothing else in living with grief, it’s essential to do the “self care.” I do not like the term self-care. We all know self-care is important but I think it is such a buzz word now that it has lost meaning. I know in my job for example, we have professional development sessions on self-care when that time could be much better spent getting actual work done. When it becomes a chore, it’s no longer self-care. But anyway, we do need to take care of ourselves and that is especially true for person grieving and in pain. All that to say, sometimes I just can’t make the plans. I just can’t go see people. Whether it’s because I’m just exhausted by interaction (as an introvert by nature this was the case even prior to Ariella dying) or because it’s just something I cannot face (I have not been able to attend any of the Bar Mitzvot we have been invited to), I am not able to put myself in situations that I can’t easily escape. When I’m seemingly “fine” grief comes along and kicks my feet out from under me and I’m often trapped in my current situation. I never know when that may happen. It was easier when grief was just there, smothering me but leaving me with no question as to what to expect. And the stages of grief are crap. In fact, they were not described for people who have lost loved ones. They were defined for people who were the ones actually dying. So to expect to follow specific stages just makes it all the more confusing and overwhelming for those grieving and their loved ones.
We ended up having to put our dog, Sherman down. And while Sherman is not a person, taking care of him was very reminiscent of taking care of Ariella. David and I taking turns sleeping on the couch so we could be near him, help him outside, help him settle down, just like we took turns staying with Ariella in the hospital. Waiting for test results, trying to make sure he wasn’t in pain, talking to the vet about quality of life. Making the gut-wrenching decision and holding him as he took his last breaths. We had been there before. With our child. And while I never forget any of it, it brought it all back to the forefront. We should not have to grieve another loved one so soon. Especially the pet we got in our grief, to give us some purpose, to give us someone else to love. Losing a pet is NOT the same as losing a child (it really burns me up when people say that) but it is still a heartbreaking loss and just felt so horribly unfair after everything we have been through and are still going through.
You’d think that those who have been through the worst, would get a free pass for the rest of life. But we all know the universe doesn’t work that way. So life is now spent expecting the worst, waiting for the other shoe to drop, wondering what will go wrong next. It’s a pretty sad existence, but well even though people further along in their grief say there will be joy again, I have not yet found it. I have found enjoyment in moments but not happiness in everyday life.
