Not the Right Kind of Grieving
Guest post by Verity
There’s a fire, something so fierce and strong that blazes inside my chest, this is my ‘grief’.
Grief, such an unattached word, never really understood it; I thought I did when losing my grandfather then quickly after my grandma. I was 23 years old when these special people were ripped out of my life and felt that I grew up fast, it was the first time I had ever experienced loss, something that changed meas an individual and something that made me, I thought, stronger and more resilient to death. I often cried thinking about them and I missed them more than I thought was possible.
But then I lost my baby boy, whilst he was cuddled up inside of me, so what was this?
This was different, unbelievably wrong, soul destroying.. plans gone in an instant, hopes failed and yet with all that an indescribable love still burning strong.. and that was when it hit, this was different, a different love, and the only way I could start to describe it is to say it is like a fireball locked in to my chest that has scolded me with internal scars.. and continues to do so with every moment that passes that I’m not making memories with him.
The nights and times of quietness are when the flames ignite, this is when it burns, like someone has poured on lighter fluid, it rages so hard that the only way it starts to extinguish is hen the tears fall down my cheeks, but even then it still smoulders it still leaves a sickening taste in the back of my throat. So much for being strong.
I can be marvellously tough for others, yes I can put a face on and comfort others that cry, tilt their heads and feel sorry for me, I tell them I’m great, life’s to short, lets talk about you, this always then resulting in “wow, you’re so strong and brave, I couldn’t be like you” I wish I could say to them.. “I’m sorry but you’ve got me so so wrong.. I honestly don’t feel that you know me at all, if I could show you this intensity, firing up inside my chest, I don’t think you would agree with me”…. but i don’t … much easier that way.. so when I return to my stillness, my thoughts, this private unstable warmth will always return.
Maybe to some there is something wrong with my grieving. Maybe this fireball is just something I have, and will always have within me, something that no one will understand… maybe.
But however it is, this is my grief. Now it may not be the right kind of sad for many people, for people that say “you are so strong” and “I know how your feeling” I’m sorry but that simply can’t be true.. how can it be true? equally I have learnt that I shouldn’t judge that people would react the same way a me in a similar tragedy, but this is me, its happened to me, i’m so very sorry that I can’t be sorry for this.