September 13, 2003

Janiece, Robyn, and I went to a friend’s back to school party tonight. It’s so great to see my girls get out with their friends and put their sadness aside for a few hours. I had to smile as I watched them stomping up the stairs with a gaggle of girls, laughing and without a care in the world.

I saw so many friendly faces that I haven’t seen since last June. As I chatted amiably with a group one of the moms smiled warmly and asked me, “How’s your family?” It was an honest question from a very sweet woman and deserved an honest response. I paused a moment pondering the best way to answer... We are shattered but mending, numb yet resilient, supporting each other as we grope in the dark ...all came to mind but, “Smaller” was the simple, true answer I gave her. I honestly thought she had heard about Steve. News usually travels fast in a group like ours. But the utterly perplexed look on her face told me that she didn’t understand.
Tracy was standing by my side and I turned to make eye contact with her as an anchor to hold me in place as I briefly explained what I meant. It’s amazing how fast the three little words “my son died” can change a person’s countenance. As soon as my words registered her expression fell into “the face”.

I know that people are saddened to hear of another’s loss and I don’t begrudge them their honest feelings. But “the face” changes the whole tone of an encounter. Sometimes I just want to be separate from the constant grief. I want to enjoy a moment, move on in the conversation. But when people hear my news, so often they get stuck on it and can't seem to move forward. Like moving forward will shatter me. But it doesn't. Being stuck shatters me. Looking into "the face" holds me in place. I find that I have to be the strong one. The one to push ahead and past the news.

I mean, I don’t want to be faced with a stone mask, either, but... Oh bother! I don’t know what I want. I just know I don’t want “the face”!

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Hello from 2010!
Rereading this reminds me of how I felt each time someone would see me and automatically their expression would change from "Happy to see you" to "Oh my gosh, you poor thing". It seemed like from now on I would be equated with this grief. But time has passed and I am again greeted with friendly smiles.
Not long after this party I met up with a friend who had suffered a recent loss. I was shocked at myself as I felt my facial muscles start to mold themselves into "the face". I realized what I was doing and softened my expression and asked her "How are you doing? I know this is a tough time." I don't know if that was the right thing to do. I'm only going on how I felt once upon a time.

My friend, Morgan lost her husband suddenly last year. He was only 44 years old. As we were talking a few months later, she said, "People tell me ~ 'Call me if you need anything'. Does that mean only call them if I need something? What if I just want to have a friendly conversation?"
When we are in the thick of the early days of grieving, we don't even know what we need, let alone have the gumption to call someone. It's so much easier when someone will say, for instance, "I'm bringing dinner on Tuesday" or "Can the kids come over to hang out with us for a few hours?" or "Do you mind if I call just to chat?" Concrete offers are like life savers tossed to someone who feels like they are drowning in roiling waters.

And grief isn't over in a few weeks or months. It can take more than a year for a person to begin to get into their "new normal" life. Keep calling. Keep inviting. Don't give up on them.

OK. Thanks for putting up with my ramblings today!