October 6, 2010
Well, I went to my first support group meeting last night, courtesy of my friend Heather. It was a small meeting with just a handful of us but I think that’s better. They were all parents who had lost children, but none of their children had been infants so we were kind of on different wavelengths. Still, there were some commonalities and it was good to talk to people who have “been there.”
What surprised me the most was that although mine was the most recent, with the other losses having happened years ago, it was still so fresh for everyone. That’s what I hate about putting a deadline on grief. You never really “get over” it. You just can’t. I learned that from Nana. Things get a little easier and you don’t find yourself breaking down and bawling in the middle of Wal-Mart as often, but it’s still there.
We also talked about “things people say” to be “helpful” and we all laughed because we have all heard the same things. My new favorite is “He’s in a better place.” Well, I don’t want him in a better place. I want him right here, in this crappy place, with me. Or the Pizza Hut waitress who told us that it was okay because he was with Pete’s Mom. (We even got bits of this before she died.) Hey, what’s wrong with my dead relatives? My Uncle Junior might have drank a lot in his…erm…younger days and maybe he took off and lived on an Indian reservation for awhile and perhaps years would go by before anyone in the family would see or hear from him but he loved babies.
Anyway, that’s some of the crazy stuff that goes through your head sometimes.
I am now down to just a couple of anxiety pills at a time. I mean, in a day. Seriously, they only take the edge off. And the anxiety hits the hardest at the weirdest moments. I can go to his grave and stay there and put flowers on it and not cry at all. And then, driving home, we’ll drive past Cedar Village, I’ll remember eating there with him, and I will burst into tears.
I am finding that the happy memories of him are almost just as bad (and in many ways worse) the death-related ones. How weird is that? I have heard that it’s normal.
I wrote an e-mail to somebody that I barely know and have only met once, but we’ve exchanged emails from time to time and I wanted to let her know that Toby had passed away. It’s easier to do that than to see the person and have them be like, “Oh, how’s the baby?” which has happened a few times. Anyway, she very nicely gave me her number and said that I could call her if I wanted to talk to someone outside of the situation, more or less. Sometimes, I really want to do. Except I feel so screwy on even the best days that I’m afraid of what I might say.
To get a better feel for this, I have done what I should have done to start with- I have made an appointment for me and Pete….with my astrologer. We go there on Thursday. Updates to follow.