Navigating Grief--Part 3

There are five stages of grief; I believe that I have gone through a couple so far. The denial part, for sure. I kept saying this can’t be happening. This can’t be true. I’ll wake up from this nightmare, and everything will be as it once was. He’s not really gone. 

And then, the anger hit. That stage hit very hard. I was angry with God and felt anger toward others for no reason. I was just mad—mad at the world, mad at drivers, slow people, stupid people. I think that part is settling down now. I can tolerate others a little better. I was never mad at Jack, my grandson, Never!  Or at the friend he was with that morning. If anything, I am thankful that he wasn’t hurt. I feel no anger at myself or anyone, really, mainly just at God. When I prayed and asked him to protect my family—I stupidly thought he’d do that. It will take a while for me to reconcile that part with God. 

The bargaining stage has me needing clarification. Who are you bargaining with? And what are you bargaining?  Since I wasn’t involved in Jack’s accident, I guess the guilt part doesn’t affect me. However, maybe God would have spared him if I had been a better Christian. Perhaps that’s part of bargaining. I’ll have to think about this one.

Depression. That’s right where I am right now. I am so sad—all the time. Every few minutes, Jack’s death hits me full force, and it knocks the wind out of me. I wake up at night crying. I walk through the house and see where he has sat. I can’t seem to go more than a few minutes without thinking of him and missing him. Sadness overwhelms me to the point where I am almost afraid to go out with friends for fear of breaking down. Do they think I’ve grieved enough? After all, it’s been 2 1/2 months. Do they think I should snap out of it? At least that’s where my mind takes me, whether they think these thoughts or not, I wonder. So, I play a little game with myself. Get through this time with friends (or family), go there, do that, smile, and then when you get home, you can let it rip. And I do. I cry my heart out. Usually, all the way home. My motto now is—to fake it until you make it. I am managing my depression. I realize what is going on. I am taking all the essential steps. I don’t isolate. I get together with friends. I go out. I make plans for the future. There are times when I do feel happiness. And I do see a future. It’s just learning to manage the sadness. That part is so hard. 

The next stage I look forward to is acceptance. Life should get easier. I sure hope so because this part is so heavy—almost too heavy to navigate. I do see a slight improvement. I work hard, but I have crucial elements missing. It’s hard to explain, but I’ll do my best. I have been a Christian since I was six years old. I’ve always had a very close relationship with God. I feel that that relationship is now broken. I am dealing with trust issues. I haven’t been to church since Jack’s death. Nor do I have a desire to go. I keep putting it off. Next week. Next time. Anger is holding me back. In time, I know that I will turn a corner when I do go, but for now, I’m ok with where I am. Spiritually, I feel dead, although I know that isn’t true. Until that leaves me, though, I’ll keep that distance between God and me. I have not prayed, I have not sung, I have not felt close to God. And, for me, that is heartbreaking. I’ve never felt this abandoned before. It’s a terrifying place to be. 

I keep thinking that if others pray for me, God may hear them. He’s not listening to me right now, but maybe it’s because I’m still not talking to him.