I am the outsider. I can’t speak for David if he feels it as well but I most definitely feel out of place. Like I don’t belong. I’m there but not fully participating. In life, in gatherings. Not by the fault of anyone else. It just is. I am the outsider in my family. They always include us, always. And understand when we don’t join. And yet I am on the fringes. Because I am always stained with sadness. I cannot fully revel in the joy or excitement of my surroundings, in the happiness of others. Especially when the whole family is together. Because it’s the whole family minus one. And the missing piece is glaring. When it comes to family gatherings I do much better if it’s just some of us. Ariella’s absence isn’t so obvious. She may or may not have been there when she was still alive. But the whole family, she would be there. And now she’s not. And so rather than being able to enjoy myself my heart is on the one person that should be there but isn’t. It’s too painful to be so aware while seeing the rest of the group smile and laugh and have a great time like everything’s okay. I am the outsider, the downer.
I am an outsider amongst my friends. Especially when in groups. Also through no fault of their own. Inevitably conversation turns to their kids. I don’t mind that. I like hearing about their lives. But I have nothing to contribute. I have no living children and I have no new stories about Ariella to share. I can’t comment on the bitter sweetness of watching our children grow up too quickly. I can’t commiserate about the trying teenage years. I can’t share the excitement of my child’s achievements. Ariella was not my only loss. I also loss my identity as a mother. Yes I’m still a mother. I will always be Ariella’s mother. And yet. I’m not parenting. Plenty of people choose not to have children. This is not the same. Because of the pain that accompanies these situations. Knowing we once had the same promise and hopes and now we don’t.
Even among other bereaved parents I feel like an outsider, except among those that also lost their only child. Those parents still have their purpose. They still get to raise kids, watch them grow up, maintain their identities as parents. As someone who has always had social anxiety, I feel even less able to relate now. It can be a very lonely place. I’ve been doing what I can to keep busy, meet new people, and just stay active. I’ve joined running groups and actually started golf lessons. It’s good for me. Good to be involved in specific activities, to be involved in something that revolves around that activity.
I have found that while my grief has changed, meaning mostly that I’ve learned to live with it and even enjoy myself sometimes, the hurt has actually gotten worse. I’m witnessing Ariella’s friends grow up, her younger friends surpass her and find myself thinking more and more of everything that was lost, the future she will never have, that we will never have. David and I went to a wedding a couple of weeks ago and for the first time I had the parents’ perspective rather than the perspective as a peer. Listening to the father of the bride’s toast and watching the father daughter dance hit me so hard. We will never have that. And in those moments that was all I could think about.
This was a difficult post to write. I’ve had a hard time getting my thoughts together and I still don’t think I’ve captured my true feelings. Someone said to me that she had hoped that I’ve turned a corner in my grief. Not because she thinks I should be “better” but because she doesn’t want to see me in such pain. I feel like I have turned a corner. I do have more moments of fun and I no longer beg to die. I don’t have moments of true happiness and I don’t think I ever will. But I can experience joy and even peace at times. It’s a dichotomy though. I don’t feel guilt, but I don’t understand how I can have those joyful and peaceful moments. It doesn’t feel right. Mostly what I’ve realized is that there is no linear pattern to grief. Just when I think I’m doing okay I’ll have a day or even just a moment that completely disabuses me of that idea, when I think there’s no way that I will make it. I still cannot fathom another lifetime of feeling this way and in fact I dread it, but I also know that somehow I will survive it and will even have some fun along the way.
On a completely unrelated topic, I’ve been pretty vocal about my feelings on signs. I ask for them and have received every sign from Ariella that I have asked for and yet am still cynical that they are just coincidences. I wish I was a true believer. I think that would make life a little easier, knowing she really is there and that we really will be reunited one day. In that sense I am jealous of those that have such a strong faith. That there is no doubt in their minds that they will see their loved ones in the afterlife. But that isn’t me. Yet I continue to ask for signs. I rarely ask my dad for signs but decided I wanted one from him. My dad always used to say “don’t take any wooden nickels” so I asked for a wooden nickel as a sign. It’s not a very common turn of phrase and I don’t think I’ve heard or seen any reference to a wooden nickel since he died. I figured the chances of getting the sign were slim to none. And then this happened…
Still not sure what to think but I do like to think that signs are real. So I will continue to ask for them and be skeptical when I receive them!
I see so much of myself in your words and actually had the realization that I am also an outsider at family gatherings just this past weekend. I used to bring joy to events and now I can barely stand to be present. I see you and I understand some of your pain. And I think if Ariella often 💜
It’s so hard, isn’t it? I have been going to fewer events as the time has gone on. Others just don’t feel the loss the same and can do these things without sadness.
I love you Erica ❤️
While my loss is different, I also have a lot of trouble at family gatherings and feel like an outsider. Most of the time, I miss Ariella and also you two at these things. It is very hard to enjoy events when part of my family is missing. A grandparent’s loss is different, I lost a granddaughter and in so many ways, my daughter and the rest of her family, who are broken and so unhappy. There are no answers to this, just to carry on as best we can which we do. The sadness is like a veil that is always present and lifts a bit occasionally but then drops back again.
Think of you often and just know how loved you where by your Dad. Sorry for your feelings, but they are yours to have.
Erica,
I always read your posts and want to respond, but I feel like I don’t have the right words. This post resonated with me. “The Outsider” is how I often feel as an only-child parent of a child with disabilities.
All of my friends and acquaintances who talk of driver’s Ed, getting a driver’s license, college acceptances, fraternities, college graduations, engagements, marriage, grandchildren, and on and on. I am happy for all of their “nachas” and at the same time, the outsider.
My child is perpetually in his early to mid teens. He may never live on his own. Most people look forward to the future to see what their child will accomplish on their own.
My biggest fear is what happens when I’m no longer here. Who will take care of him like Michael and I do? Who take the time to understand his needs? Who will make sure he’s not taken advantage of? I feel like I need to live forever… Or at least one day longer than him.
And, as much as my friends love and care for me and my family, they don’t understand this feeling of being the outsider.
I am sure Ariella and your dad are sending you signs. I feel like I get signs from my dad letting me know he’s watching over me, my sister, my mom, my nephew, and my husband.
Thinking of you. ❤️
Amy
Thank you for your thoughtful reply. You certainly experience a different kind of grief, grieving the “normal” life. It’s difficult right? Being the outsider? You don’t want to be a downer so you end up hiding your feelings. I remember fairly soon after Ariella died I went out with a few friends. And the conversation almost immediately turned to their children. It was awful and I couldn’t wait to get out of there and I also couldn’t believe the thoughtlessness. Nowadays it’s different. I don’t expect it to be in the forefront of people’s minds but it is always at the forefront of mine. That’s to say I guess we just need to get used to being the outsider and hopefully find people we can relate to when we need to feel like part of the inner circle.
Thank you for sharing Erica, your blogs always reverberate right to my heart. I think of you, David & Ariella all the time 🦄 I feel like I live in an alternate universe, my axis is just off center to the everyone else’s norm. I can sense when I butt up to other people in daily life or special life events that their awareness of the difference is getting fainter and fainter the more time it has been. While I feel like growing into the difference is my only path for living. I don’t feel like it’s a struggle to get through every day anymore but I do know that is because living is possible only in my own world, at my own underwater pace, where I can seek, feel, talk & acknowledge Campbell always in the present tense on a different timeline which doesn’t make sense to most I’m sure. And I don’t like silence so I’m sure the longer I live the nuttier I will appear to others but I’m good with that! 🐄💕😻💫 can’t wait to see you in CO 🏔 Here’s to not taking any wooden nickels! Love the signs ✨
You’re not nutty to me! Miss you guys and can’t wait to see you!
We don’t know each other, but you have been kind (not the right word, maybe) to share your grief. I don’t know that I would have that courage. Most of the time, I am glad to be around people who don’t know our “story.” It’s just easier. // I did want to tell you about something I discovered. At our (still youthful) ages, my husband and I find it very painful for others to talk about their grandchildren or about another one on the way. Not that we begrudge their happiness. Anyway, we found a FB group called “Surrogate Grandparents – USA” and it is a self-matching group for parents/kids and ‘grandparents’ to form relationships that may work for them. No forms, vet the other family yourself, go slow, etc. etc. The group seems to have had success. Since we won’t get to be grandparents otherwise, we joined and are looking for a family in our general area. We are not looking for a match in terms of race, religion, politics, etc. Just kids to love and to be able to be a part of their lives. Some families are looking for an “aunt and uncle” as well. Just a thought.