Lessons Learned at the Bedside - Part II

Lesson seven - life goes on. With painful regularity, life marches on. In the first few hours, days, and maybe weeks, those closest to you will love on you, support you, be your shoulder to cry on. Then, one day, you will notice that for them, life has gone on. It has for you too. The difference is, your grief really isn't their grief. It's not that they "no longer care" it's just not their pain. Even your spouse will seemingly move forward. They mean no ill will, no disrespect. It's just not their pain. They love you. They care. They're there if you need them. Accept it for what it is - your pain.

Lesson eight - grief never ends. Accept that fact early on. It changes in intensity. It's face changes. It never ends. When you love someone and they die, you never reach a point that it doesn't matter that they aren't there. If your mother dies when you're 30, you're still going to miss her when you're 60.

Lesson nine - sometimes the absence is felt more strongly down the road. I was 25 when my dad died. In that moment, I thought I could never miss him more than right then. I was wrong. Flash forward to 2011. Gabby turned 18 and graduated high school. She was his first grandchild to graduate. I married Johnny. A man he would've been proud to call his son-in-law. A "wonderful" year for me for all intents and purposes. I grieved and grieved that year. Understand that grief has a way of jumping up and screaming at you when you least expect it.

Lesson ten - it is the little things that you will miss the most. Sure, holidays, birthdays, anniversaries, they're hard. Really, really hard. Do you know what's harder? Picking up the phone, dialing their number, only to realize they won't answer. You will do it more than once. Going into the store, seeing something so fitting for them, and thinking "I need to get that for mom" only to realize you can't give it to her.

Lesson eleven - words. Be so very careful with them. Think it through before you say it. If the words getting ready to cross your lips were the last words you would ever get to say to that person, would you regret what you said. Because one day, the last thing you say to your mom, dad, husband, wife, etc. will truly be the last thing you say / they hear. Through everything we'd been through - and it was a lot - the very last words my mother EVER uttered to me... thank you. I had felt so inadequate. I had been enough. What will your words mean.

To be continued...