My father died when I was 20 years old. He was killed by a someone else's child, someone my age, someone, who didn't know how drastically they would be changing the world of others, when they took that left hand turn.
My father died on his way to umpire a softball game. He died on his way to his passion, riding on his other passion. My father died only minutes after me talking to him. My father died, and he wasn't supposed to.
My father got up, and did the laundry that morning. He fed the dog, he got a coffee, he did errands around the house. My father put his socks and shoes on like every other, left, then right. My father walked downstairs, loaded up his motorcycle, and drove down the street. And then my father died. My father died, and there's nothing you can do about it.
When I got the phone call that my presence was need at Saint Mary's hospital, I knew automatically my world was going to change forever. I wasn't sure how, I wasn't sure when, how long, or how bad it was going to change, I just knew it was going to.
After the news had been received, and reality began to set in, the overwhelming support of friends, family, and strangers, began to wash over me. Letters poured in. Texts multiplied. The phone rang off the hook. The outpouring of support was unbelievable.
Even if the support got me through the worst of days, sometimes it only made my time worse. Although I cannot speak for everyone, not even a majority, there are a couple of things those who've lost parents, want you to know. Specifically, a couple things I need you to know.
1.) Your facial expression says more than your words ever could.
2.) The term "Sorry for your loss," gets old. Fast. And it hurts every.single.time.
3.) We hate how people ask you how close you are to the person who died. It's as if they're trying to decide how bad they should feel for you. Why does it matter how close we were? He was my dad. He is my dad. And that is the end of it.
4.) Running into someone you haven't seen in a long time can be the absolute worst experience. Usually, they know he's dead. They know everything that has happened to you in the last couple of weeks. But we still have an entire conversation, and they never bring him up, they never ask how we're doing, and they never say sorry. They just pretend everything is fine. And it isn't. We understand it may be awkward for you, but your awkwardness does not matter to us.
5.) The term, "You're in my prayers," makes us want to scream. Prayers? Prayers to who? We don't understand how you could pray to someone, anyone, who had part in taking our loved one away. I ask how your God is going to help us, when they are the one that could've stopped this situation to begin with. We feel like your God has done nothing but cause our pain. We are angry at whatever God there is out there. And we feel like you should be too.
6.) Every time you ask us how we're grieving, the confidence in ourselves shakes, and begins to crumble. The extra, "Are you talking to anyone about your grief," question makes the world seem like a harsh place, filled with ridged edges. It makes us doubt out coping methods, and doubt ourselves.
7.) We hate how in the beginning everyone wants to send you flowers, and donate to a foundation for your dead person. They want to plan events, they want to come visit you. They send you, "thinking of you" text messages, and post words of kindness to your Facebook wall. And then they stop calling, and writing, and doing nice things for you because they're over it. And they expect you to be over it.
8.) Sometimes, seeing you makes it harder on us, than easier. We understand that you were an important part of our parent's lives, we know you two were close. We know you were important. But to us, their child, you can become nothing more than a painful reminder of everything that we've lost. We see our parents face, when we look at yours. Your actions, your words, your presence, can be enough to make the world crumble. Sometimes distance can be greater than support.
9.) "You should", "Why dont you...", "Dont you think...", "I think it is important...", and "I wish you would...", are all the beginnings of statements you should keep to yourself.
10.) You don't understand. And you never will. This was the end of part of my world. You don't have to figure out how to live inside a world that is over, we do. So don't offer suggestions. We do not want them. Everyones grief is different, and no two compare.
We are trying our very best to live day to day. We are trying to show up every.single.day.
We need your support, but at the same time...We don't.
