Long term grief
November 22, 2024 9:36 PM
How does it work for you? After three years, four years, ten years?
Hello,
It has been over two years since my beloved passed away. I am doing well. I even have met someone special and am enjoying my life. But I still, at times, think of him a lot; our life together, and (most painfully) his last weeks and days when he was very sick. I wake up very sad and just fucking miss him.
I miss other dead family members who I loved dearly, but this is more intense. I guess I thought it would fade? But I don’t want to forget about him. It is very confusing.
If you have been in this or a similar position, were there things that helped assuage this sad longing? How does it work after three years, four, years, after ten years?
I guess I need to accept I will always have this loss/pain to bear? On one hand, I want to distract myself and not sit and weep. But I also feel that I should honor my love and loss? I’ve read the standard grief memoirs but will take book recommendations.
Thank you.
Hello,
It has been over two years since my beloved passed away. I am doing well. I even have met someone special and am enjoying my life. But I still, at times, think of him a lot; our life together, and (most painfully) his last weeks and days when he was very sick. I wake up very sad and just fucking miss him.
I miss other dead family members who I loved dearly, but this is more intense. I guess I thought it would fade? But I don’t want to forget about him. It is very confusing.
If you have been in this or a similar position, were there things that helped assuage this sad longing? How does it work after three years, four, years, after ten years?
I guess I need to accept I will always have this loss/pain to bear? On one hand, I want to distract myself and not sit and weep. But I also feel that I should honor my love and loss? I’ve read the standard grief memoirs but will take book recommendations.
Thank you.
First, my sympathies to you. This is how it is.
It doesn't stop, but the ache grows less and the eruptions of memory can be more wistful or even gladdening than sad. I lost my father after a debilitating illness four years ago. We had become close over the 20 years after my mother died, and I was the main family member with him in that last year, and because of the COVID restrictions at the time, I was the only person with him when he died, and it was a difficult passing.
At the two year mark after his death I was still having moments where I just had to stop what I was doing and let it wash through me. But asymptotically, with occasional extinction bursts, the intensity and frequency fade.
I wrote a few paragraphs about it around the six month mark. It will be different for you, everyone is different, but I think the theme might be recognisable.
posted by i_am_joe's_spleen at 10:35 PM on November 22
It doesn't stop, but the ache grows less and the eruptions of memory can be more wistful or even gladdening than sad. I lost my father after a debilitating illness four years ago. We had become close over the 20 years after my mother died, and I was the main family member with him in that last year, and because of the COVID restrictions at the time, I was the only person with him when he died, and it was a difficult passing.
At the two year mark after his death I was still having moments where I just had to stop what I was doing and let it wash through me. But asymptotically, with occasional extinction bursts, the intensity and frequency fade.
I wrote a few paragraphs about it around the six month mark. It will be different for you, everyone is different, but I think the theme might be recognisable.
posted by i_am_joe's_spleen at 10:35 PM on November 22
It's nearly 50 years since my closest sibling died. Each year or so it seems that I mourn our loss, his and mine, in a different way. Lately I've been mourning not knowing his potential kids, not being an aunty to them.
Grief, like sex, is a huge part of who we are as humans that is talked about in whispers and demoted from importance because it's hard to navigate. Grief and what we do with those who've died is a defining characteristic of civilisation. It needs to be honoured.
How do I deal? Poetry and music.
posted by Thella at 10:53 PM on November 22
Grief, like sex, is a huge part of who we are as humans that is talked about in whispers and demoted from importance because it's hard to navigate. Grief and what we do with those who've died is a defining characteristic of civilisation. It needs to be honoured.
How do I deal? Poetry and music.
posted by Thella at 10:53 PM on November 22
Everyone is different, of course, and my experience is not your experience, but I think the grief never goes away. The intensity of the pain eventually fades. It's exactly like a physical wound, I think. You'll recover from the shock and initial injury, then you might feel constant, nagging deep pain that comes and goes, then eventually you heal. But you have the scar always. You'll never forget.
At 2 years I was only barely recovered and thought of my person constantly, at 4 years I was trying to honor my person through living a good life, now at 10 years, I'm grateful that for me, the good memories are more present in my mind now than the terrible memories of those last days.
To feel better, for me the solution was only time and the distractions of continuing my own life.
And about distracting yourself and sitting and weeping and honoring your love and loss--I think you should do all those things. You probably will do all those things, possibly at the same time in the same moment or over the course of years. All of these things are aspects of experiencing grief.
posted by LittleLadybug at 11:44 PM on November 22
At 2 years I was only barely recovered and thought of my person constantly, at 4 years I was trying to honor my person through living a good life, now at 10 years, I'm grateful that for me, the good memories are more present in my mind now than the terrible memories of those last days.
To feel better, for me the solution was only time and the distractions of continuing my own life.
And about distracting yourself and sitting and weeping and honoring your love and loss--I think you should do all those things. You probably will do all those things, possibly at the same time in the same moment or over the course of years. All of these things are aspects of experiencing grief.
posted by LittleLadybug at 11:44 PM on November 22
My parents died in 2009 and 2011. Ever since then, every now and then, seemingly out of nowhere, I get an urge to just howl that didn't used to happen before I lost them.
Usually I just tamp that down and stick a lid on it so as not to be socially inappropriate, but as soon afterwards as I have an opportunity to, I will get in the car, drive somewhere private, recall that urge and just let it rip until it burns out.
Over the last few years I've been finding that while in the middle of a howl, stuff that's less immediately personal than losing my folks will occur to me like the Gazan genocide and the general slide into fascism and ecological impoverishment as humanity continues to overcrowd the planet, and I'll find myself bawling for a while for the fucked-up state of things. So I think the urge to grieve is actually coming first, and my brain then responds to that by casting about for explanations. But however it works, the most consistent part of the experience is that it's overwhelmingly intense and that I feel much better afterwards.
I guess all I'm saying is that when you need to grieve, grieve. Pay no attention to any fucker who tells you you're doing it wrong, and don't worry about it unless it's actually interfering with your ability to function competently.
posted by flabdablet at 11:56 PM on November 22
Usually I just tamp that down and stick a lid on it so as not to be socially inappropriate, but as soon afterwards as I have an opportunity to, I will get in the car, drive somewhere private, recall that urge and just let it rip until it burns out.
Over the last few years I've been finding that while in the middle of a howl, stuff that's less immediately personal than losing my folks will occur to me like the Gazan genocide and the general slide into fascism and ecological impoverishment as humanity continues to overcrowd the planet, and I'll find myself bawling for a while for the fucked-up state of things. So I think the urge to grieve is actually coming first, and my brain then responds to that by casting about for explanations. But however it works, the most consistent part of the experience is that it's overwhelmingly intense and that I feel much better afterwards.
I guess all I'm saying is that when you need to grieve, grieve. Pay no attention to any fucker who tells you you're doing it wrong, and don't worry about it unless it's actually interfering with your ability to function competently.
posted by flabdablet at 11:56 PM on November 22
It's true that everyone grieves differently, and there's no wrong way to grieve.
It's also possible that you are carrying trauma from the end of your loved one's life, because of the way they died and the sickness and pain that lead up to it.
If it's possible for you to get therapy to help you work through the confusion, guilt, anger, pain, and other emotions you might be dealing with, that might help you find peace with those memories.
A support group of people who have gone through a similar experience might help too.
Or processing those memories by writing about them, or creating music, planting a garden, or whatever form your creativity expresses itself.
posted by Zumbador at 12:16 AM on November 23
It's also possible that you are carrying trauma from the end of your loved one's life, because of the way they died and the sickness and pain that lead up to it.
If it's possible for you to get therapy to help you work through the confusion, guilt, anger, pain, and other emotions you might be dealing with, that might help you find peace with those memories.
A support group of people who have gone through a similar experience might help too.
Or processing those memories by writing about them, or creating music, planting a garden, or whatever form your creativity expresses itself.
posted by Zumbador at 12:16 AM on November 23
A Grief Observed by CS Lewis is a memoir of the period after he lost his wife to cancer. As he writes in the introduction, he's describing what he goes through as he goes through it, in hopes that it will help others feel less alone. (I hope I got that correctly, it's been a while.)
CS Lewis was a lay theologian who wrote both fiction and non-fiction, including The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe. He was also a friend of Tolkien.
posted by demi-octopus at 3:03 AM on November 23
CS Lewis was a lay theologian who wrote both fiction and non-fiction, including The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe. He was also a friend of Tolkien.
posted by demi-octopus at 3:03 AM on November 23
I'm sorry for your loss - losing someone dear is so, so hard. In some ways I found the 2 year mark the most difficult to navigate. Everyone around you has moved on and there is a general expectation that you've 'gotten over it' but it's still so raw. The first year is so tumultuous but I found the 'normal' everyday-ness of year two so hard as I adjusted to life without my brother.
As others have mentioned, it never goes away but as time goes on it changes and doesn't seem to bump into everyday life quite as much. I think the box and ball analogy is the most accurate way to describe grief. Like Thella, how or what I'm grieving changes, especially with big life events or milestones. Right now, as I have recently become a mother, I am grieving how my brother never got to be an uncle to my son and how these two incredibly important people in my life never met each other.
I honour my brother's memory by talking about him, listening to music he enjoyed or by being in nature (he was an avid hiker). We also planted a tree somewhere special so that has become a place to go reflect.
If podcasts are your thing then I highly recommend Griefcast. It's hosted by British comedian Cariad Lloyd and she interviews people in the 'griefclub'. It's incredibly warm-hearted and I found it helpful hearing the many different ways people grieve - there is no right or wrong way! She has also written a book, You are Not Alone, which I also enjoyed but somehow hearing people's voices as they talked about their loved one was really wonderful.
posted by toebeans at 3:11 AM on November 23
As others have mentioned, it never goes away but as time goes on it changes and doesn't seem to bump into everyday life quite as much. I think the box and ball analogy is the most accurate way to describe grief. Like Thella, how or what I'm grieving changes, especially with big life events or milestones. Right now, as I have recently become a mother, I am grieving how my brother never got to be an uncle to my son and how these two incredibly important people in my life never met each other.
I honour my brother's memory by talking about him, listening to music he enjoyed or by being in nature (he was an avid hiker). We also planted a tree somewhere special so that has become a place to go reflect.
If podcasts are your thing then I highly recommend Griefcast. It's hosted by British comedian Cariad Lloyd and she interviews people in the 'griefclub'. It's incredibly warm-hearted and I found it helpful hearing the many different ways people grieve - there is no right or wrong way! She has also written a book, You are Not Alone, which I also enjoyed but somehow hearing people's voices as they talked about their loved one was really wonderful.
posted by toebeans at 3:11 AM on November 23
It's 19 years since my BF died suddenly. Although I dated casually after he died - and met my best friend as a result (although he lives 3,500 miles away in NYC) - I've never found another life partner, and at 65 years old, I'm not likely to either. As the years have gone by, I've become more and more odd, quirky and uncompromising, content in my own skin, and unwilling to play games. I tried dating apps and they were brutal, so I think there's zero chance of my ever meeting a new partner.
Most days, I don't think about what I lost at all, and I have a great life with a good job and lots of friends. But at this time of year, the pain is still raw, when I think about the trip I was going to make to Ohio so we could tell his family our plans, which all turned to dust and ashes in a literal heartbeat.
The thing that particularly gets to me at this time of year is all the TV commercials showing people buying gifts for their loved ones. That's something I'm unlikely ever to have, and I'm childless and have only long-distance relatives. So the grief of missing him is tied in with the lack of love in my life, which I don't think is likely to change. Sometimes just seeing a man on his way home with a beautiful bouquet of flowers to give to someone he loves is enough to make me cry my eyes out.
I'm glad you've met someone else. Don't feel guilt about that, it's a good thing. It doesn't mean you've 'moved on' or that you're disrespecting his memory. He was special and unique, and it's natural to miss him for the ways in which he enhanced your life.
posted by essexjan at 4:12 AM on November 23
Most days, I don't think about what I lost at all, and I have a great life with a good job and lots of friends. But at this time of year, the pain is still raw, when I think about the trip I was going to make to Ohio so we could tell his family our plans, which all turned to dust and ashes in a literal heartbeat.
The thing that particularly gets to me at this time of year is all the TV commercials showing people buying gifts for their loved ones. That's something I'm unlikely ever to have, and I'm childless and have only long-distance relatives. So the grief of missing him is tied in with the lack of love in my life, which I don't think is likely to change. Sometimes just seeing a man on his way home with a beautiful bouquet of flowers to give to someone he loves is enough to make me cry my eyes out.
I'm glad you've met someone else. Don't feel guilt about that, it's a good thing. It doesn't mean you've 'moved on' or that you're disrespecting his memory. He was special and unique, and it's natural to miss him for the ways in which he enhanced your life.
posted by essexjan at 4:12 AM on November 23
Echoing the above, especially the box and ball analogy.
My daughter died almost 21 years ago. I think about her literally every day. Mostly it’s okay, because 20 years. I’ve known lots of people who’ve had daughters and babies. And yet, last week a colleague had a baby girl and his enthusiasm was innocent and huge and I felt a stab of that fresh raw loss. What you’re describing sounds human to me.
I think what I would say is, if the pain comes but it recedes some, and sometimes it’s a bit longer between bouts of pain, you’re doing ok. If it is just all pain all the time, seek some help.
posted by warriorqueen at 4:21 AM on November 23
My daughter died almost 21 years ago. I think about her literally every day. Mostly it’s okay, because 20 years. I’ve known lots of people who’ve had daughters and babies. And yet, last week a colleague had a baby girl and his enthusiasm was innocent and huge and I felt a stab of that fresh raw loss. What you’re describing sounds human to me.
I think what I would say is, if the pain comes but it recedes some, and sometimes it’s a bit longer between bouts of pain, you’re doing ok. If it is just all pain all the time, seek some help.
posted by warriorqueen at 4:21 AM on November 23
If you have been in this or a similar position, were there things that helped assuage this sad longing? How does it work after three years, four, years, after ten years?
My wife of 20 years passed about two and half years ago. It was long term decline, with the last 4 months being particularly harsh, as she went in and out the hospital during the initial COVID surge.
While I am in another relationship now and a good one, I feel you on the forever longing and missing.
Book wise, this particular one spoke to me a lot and i'm going to link to an image of it's first page. But be warned this books more to the anger and pain of grief and loss, which isn't for everyone, so of you think that doesn't interest, I ask you consider whether you really want to read the words in the link. I'll put in a couple of blanks lines so folks can avoid clicking on it
First page of It's Ok That You're Not Ok
by Megan Devine
I guess I need to accept I will always have this loss/pain to bear? On one hand, I want to distract myself and not sit and weep. But I also feel that I should honor my love and loss? I’ve read the standard grief memoirs but will take book recommendations.
Yes, you will carry this loss for your remaining days, but you do get better at learning how to hold it. Time does lessen the blow, but you will be surprised how suddenly and sharply grief will reappear. Recently for me, it was a nearly 40 year old movie (Raiders of the Lost Ark). It wasn't anything I hadn't seen before, many times, but the shock of unexpectedly seeing it after the death of my wife just hit me in all sorts of unexpected emotional ways. It happens. I grieved again and moved on with my day.
As to how you honor them and y'all's time together that's up to you. I have photo of her on the mantle with various happy memories written on it. I usually make a post on Facebook on her birthday. I've thought of planting some bushes that attract particular butterflies she liked. I talk about her amongst friends who knew her when a happy memory shows up and listen to them when they share past happy moments with her. Sometimes I visit places she liked to go and just sit and remember her smile.
As long as you're not hurting yourself or others, you get to choose and decide how you honor them.
posted by Brandon Blatcher at 7:23 AM on November 23
My wife of 20 years passed about two and half years ago. It was long term decline, with the last 4 months being particularly harsh, as she went in and out the hospital during the initial COVID surge.
While I am in another relationship now and a good one, I feel you on the forever longing and missing.
Book wise, this particular one spoke to me a lot and i'm going to link to an image of it's first page. But be warned this books more to the anger and pain of grief and loss, which isn't for everyone, so of you think that doesn't interest, I ask you consider whether you really want to read the words in the link. I'll put in a couple of blanks lines so folks can avoid clicking on it
First page of It's Ok That You're Not Ok
by Megan Devine
I guess I need to accept I will always have this loss/pain to bear? On one hand, I want to distract myself and not sit and weep. But I also feel that I should honor my love and loss? I’ve read the standard grief memoirs but will take book recommendations.
Yes, you will carry this loss for your remaining days, but you do get better at learning how to hold it. Time does lessen the blow, but you will be surprised how suddenly and sharply grief will reappear. Recently for me, it was a nearly 40 year old movie (Raiders of the Lost Ark). It wasn't anything I hadn't seen before, many times, but the shock of unexpectedly seeing it after the death of my wife just hit me in all sorts of unexpected emotional ways. It happens. I grieved again and moved on with my day.
As to how you honor them and y'all's time together that's up to you. I have photo of her on the mantle with various happy memories written on it. I usually make a post on Facebook on her birthday. I've thought of planting some bushes that attract particular butterflies she liked. I talk about her amongst friends who knew her when a happy memory shows up and listen to them when they share past happy moments with her. Sometimes I visit places she liked to go and just sit and remember her smile.
As long as you're not hurting yourself or others, you get to choose and decide how you honor them.
posted by Brandon Blatcher at 7:23 AM on November 23
As someone said to me when I was in a similar place: you don't get over it. You do get used to it.
posted by bac at 8:19 AM on November 23
posted by bac at 8:19 AM on November 23
The way I describe it is, there's a (huge!) hole in your heart, but it heals over, eventually. It's still in there, but over time, it's not as bad; at least that's been my experience. (I guess my hole is toebeans 's ball.)
One thing: when the pain was new, I'd talk to him, when alone, in the car. And I could hear his responses! But then his voice faded; early on, however, I felt that he was looking out for me, pulling strings, up in heaven.
posted by Rash at 8:49 AM on November 23
One thing: when the pain was new, I'd talk to him, when alone, in the car. And I could hear his responses! But then his voice faded; early on, however, I felt that he was looking out for me, pulling strings, up in heaven.
posted by Rash at 8:49 AM on November 23
You will miss them forever, but it truly lessens with time...I still miss my Mom, but it's been ,30 years now, and I only occasionally think of her.
posted by Czjewel at 9:38 AM on November 23
posted by Czjewel at 9:38 AM on November 23
Here's a strange metaphor.
Have you ever, or do you now, lived where it snows a lot? Not, like, once a year and then it all melts a day or two later, but, like, a ton of snow that sticks around for weeks/months? I've been thinking recently of grief in terms of how that level of snow gets dealt with.
- First, there's the snowstorm. Everything shuts down while it's happening, it's impossible to navigate, and it feels like there's no way at all to move forward, do anything, go anywhere, or live normally. It's life-stopping, basically.
- Eventually, the snow stops, but normal passage through life in its immediate aftermath is very challenging; the roads aren't plowed yet, so it's hard to drive, really tricky to walk, and while you can get from point A to point B, it takes way more effort than it normally should, and it's EXHAUSTING. And you feel like you're completely on your own.
- Then, the roads get plowed. So you can finally take those first few delicate steps out, or you can finally take your car out, and see what the world is like now; it's hard, but you do it, because you have to.
- Slowly, over time, the roads start to clear to the point where "normal" traffic resumes. It's at this point where all that snow that's removed has to go somewhere; a lot of times, big piles of snow - like 7 foot high, 10 foot long piles from the surrounding roads - get dumped into the far corner of a big parking lot at a disused mall or a WalMart or some other big facility.
- every time you go by that parking lot, between the time of the storm and early summer when it warms up, that pile just sits there. You see it, it just becomes part of your daily scenery, but it doesn't get in your way in any meaningful way. It's just always there.
The snowstorm, in this probably-tortured metaphor, is the grief-triggering event, and that pile of snow, in my head, is the grief. Over the course of time, it becomes less and less of an impediment to your life and more of an accompaniment to it, if that makes sense. It'll always be around (there's always another winter, always another snow pile), but it will, over the years, not get in your way nearly as much as it does right now.
I'm 56 years old, both my parents were dead by the time I was 22, and there's not a week goes by where I don't think about them - but the "grief" component of that has loooooong since passed. There's no one definitive timescale for when that happens, but I promise you it will happen for you at some point. And you won't forget your beloved; that pain will resolve itself into just good, warm, happy feelings about your person over time. It will take time, but you'll get there. You just can't force it.
Hang in there.
posted by pdb at 10:02 AM on November 23
Have you ever, or do you now, lived where it snows a lot? Not, like, once a year and then it all melts a day or two later, but, like, a ton of snow that sticks around for weeks/months? I've been thinking recently of grief in terms of how that level of snow gets dealt with.
- First, there's the snowstorm. Everything shuts down while it's happening, it's impossible to navigate, and it feels like there's no way at all to move forward, do anything, go anywhere, or live normally. It's life-stopping, basically.
- Eventually, the snow stops, but normal passage through life in its immediate aftermath is very challenging; the roads aren't plowed yet, so it's hard to drive, really tricky to walk, and while you can get from point A to point B, it takes way more effort than it normally should, and it's EXHAUSTING. And you feel like you're completely on your own.
- Then, the roads get plowed. So you can finally take those first few delicate steps out, or you can finally take your car out, and see what the world is like now; it's hard, but you do it, because you have to.
- Slowly, over time, the roads start to clear to the point where "normal" traffic resumes. It's at this point where all that snow that's removed has to go somewhere; a lot of times, big piles of snow - like 7 foot high, 10 foot long piles from the surrounding roads - get dumped into the far corner of a big parking lot at a disused mall or a WalMart or some other big facility.
- every time you go by that parking lot, between the time of the storm and early summer when it warms up, that pile just sits there. You see it, it just becomes part of your daily scenery, but it doesn't get in your way in any meaningful way. It's just always there.
The snowstorm, in this probably-tortured metaphor, is the grief-triggering event, and that pile of snow, in my head, is the grief. Over the course of time, it becomes less and less of an impediment to your life and more of an accompaniment to it, if that makes sense. It'll always be around (there's always another winter, always another snow pile), but it will, over the years, not get in your way nearly as much as it does right now.
I'm 56 years old, both my parents were dead by the time I was 22, and there's not a week goes by where I don't think about them - but the "grief" component of that has loooooong since passed. There's no one definitive timescale for when that happens, but I promise you it will happen for you at some point. And you won't forget your beloved; that pain will resolve itself into just good, warm, happy feelings about your person over time. It will take time, but you'll get there. You just can't force it.
Hang in there.
posted by pdb at 10:02 AM on November 23
Grief is a ball in a box, and at first the ball is the same size as the box. Every time the ball touches the sides of the box it hurts. The box gets bigger over time and the ball gets smaller, at different rates, and at some point the ball stops touching the sides of the box so much. But it still knocks the side of the box occasionally and it still hurts. And the ball is in the box forever and sometimes the walls shrink in and it hurts a lot, even though it has been years. The ball will always be in the box and it will always hurt when it touches the sides, it just happens less frequently and with less intensity as time goes on and as we heal and our lives expand with new experiences.
Take good care of yourself and I'm sorry you're hurting.
posted by twelve cent archie at 11:34 AM on November 23
Take good care of yourself and I'm sorry you're hurting.
posted by twelve cent archie at 11:34 AM on November 23
Lots of gold here.
Something else to consider is that you're not only grieving the loss of your relationship and the shared past you had with this person; you're also grieving the future you could have had with this person, and I think during particularly vulnerable moments that feeling might spring up here and there. If you look over my post history, I had a friend who died by suicide 2.5 years ago who was just 24. I think of her every day, and grieve not just the loss of her and our relationship but the loss of her future and the person I was excited to see her become. There's the additional layer of how a relationship with someone changes in our mind when they're gone. My mom passed away two years ago as well, but she's still a Figure In My Mind, because that's what closeness does to people - it builds out these mental characters in our heads, and the dynamics we had with them continue to impact us. I think when someone has passed away, we have a lot more, let's say, imaginative control over the type of relationship we have with this person now that they're gone, but that's also something that takes thoughtful reflection and emotional work to sort of engage with. I think this is why many people have grief/mourning type rituals such as visiting a grave, lighting a candle, etc etc.
Anyways, two years ago is still very recent. Orcas and elephants and dolphins and so on and so on mourn their dead for long periods of time as well, differently than us, of course. It's not only human to have these feelings, it's like, deeply organic, deeply biological, deeply alive to do so.
posted by erattacorrige at 3:24 PM on November 23
Something else to consider is that you're not only grieving the loss of your relationship and the shared past you had with this person; you're also grieving the future you could have had with this person, and I think during particularly vulnerable moments that feeling might spring up here and there. If you look over my post history, I had a friend who died by suicide 2.5 years ago who was just 24. I think of her every day, and grieve not just the loss of her and our relationship but the loss of her future and the person I was excited to see her become. There's the additional layer of how a relationship with someone changes in our mind when they're gone. My mom passed away two years ago as well, but she's still a Figure In My Mind, because that's what closeness does to people - it builds out these mental characters in our heads, and the dynamics we had with them continue to impact us. I think when someone has passed away, we have a lot more, let's say, imaginative control over the type of relationship we have with this person now that they're gone, but that's also something that takes thoughtful reflection and emotional work to sort of engage with. I think this is why many people have grief/mourning type rituals such as visiting a grave, lighting a candle, etc etc.
Anyways, two years ago is still very recent. Orcas and elephants and dolphins and so on and so on mourn their dead for long periods of time as well, differently than us, of course. It's not only human to have these feelings, it's like, deeply organic, deeply biological, deeply alive to do so.
posted by erattacorrige at 3:24 PM on November 23
Grief never goes away...
Our second child died the day before he was supposed to be born.
And just reading your post has me in tears all over again. I can't be around people who are pregnant, or who's partners are pregnant, because they haven't ever considered it might happen to them. And I won't mention that.
And that was 25+ years ago. And the constant grief fades. But it will always be there waiting for a trigger.
A support group is a great suggestion. Hearing other people who like, had to unplug their babies, made me feel a lot less terrible about our situation. Sucked for us, but, sucked worse for them. Can't imagine having to make that choice. We had no choice, so it made it better.
So sorry for your loss. Never lived that scenario, so can't really comment to that. Grief fades, but will never go away. Maybe appreciate the time you had and try to accept that things will always be different from now on, and try to find a path forward.
posted by Windopaene at 4:35 PM on November 25
Our second child died the day before he was supposed to be born.
And just reading your post has me in tears all over again. I can't be around people who are pregnant, or who's partners are pregnant, because they haven't ever considered it might happen to them. And I won't mention that.
And that was 25+ years ago. And the constant grief fades. But it will always be there waiting for a trigger.
A support group is a great suggestion. Hearing other people who like, had to unplug their babies, made me feel a lot less terrible about our situation. Sucked for us, but, sucked worse for them. Can't imagine having to make that choice. We had no choice, so it made it better.
So sorry for your loss. Never lived that scenario, so can't really comment to that. Grief fades, but will never go away. Maybe appreciate the time you had and try to accept that things will always be different from now on, and try to find a path forward.
posted by Windopaene at 4:35 PM on November 25
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It gradually changes from every moment of every day, to a couple times a day, to a couple times a week, to a couple times a month, and so on. Eventually months can pass without staggering over to grab a nearby wall gasping for breath. Nevertheless, it can still come completely out of left field and smack me in the temple when I just wanted to buy a hotdog but something suddenly reminded me of that person and now I'm wrecked.
...which is, I don't know how to say this, but basically "good enough"?
There are also cultural angles here that can get really confusing so consider if a therapist with an appropriate background might help (for example, in my case there are specific expectations that "my" people can get really fucking aggro about, and telling me to just ignore that because who cares what they think will not be in any way successful).
posted by aramaic at 10:22 PM on November 22