I think previously I would have said I knew how to support someone in grief. I went to school for psychology and social work, but there are some skills that only life can teach you, not a text book. I think in order to really sit well in someone else's grief, you need to have experienced your own. I also previously would have said I've experienced grief. This is predominantly true given that my dad died when I was ten, but since then the bulk of my grief has been related to "heartbreak" resulting from a couple short-lived dating relationships..not really earth shattering. I've experienced other pain related to family and friendships, but not permanent loss.
Sitting in the grief of losing my brother has felt a world of difference from losing my dad. In some ways, I don't even feel like that loss happened to me or I feel like a completely different person than than to whom that happened. This may simply be due to the fact that it's been over 2 decades and so much of the pain has been redeemed. Losing Jerrod feels completely different. In some ways I feel like I've lost a part of myself. That sounds really cliche, but maybe that's what a close death feels like or it's wrapped up in the fact that we're twins and the person I've walked every day on this earth with is no longer here. Maybe this grief feels different because I'm an adult and my emotional intelligence is greater than my 10-year-old self who just tried to survive and cling to what I had left. Perhaps it's also the combination of joy and pain losing Jerrod just four days after the birth of my daughter. Not to mention all the hormones and ups and downs of caring for a newborn, but this roller coaster feels like a whole new beast to me. In every moment of joy, it is also tinged with sadness, especially when it's a joyful moment I would have previously experienced or could picture myself experiencing with Jerrod. This most often happens when I watch anyone playing with my son because Jerrod was so playful and attentive with Jackson. One minute I'm smiling or laughing and the next I'm crying. The journey of healing from this pain feels long and daunting, so as best I can I try to cope in the present.
It's been only just over a month, but still so often I cannot fathom that he is gone; this cannot be real and often it doesn't feel real. I keep waiting for the next time I'm going to see him because we didn't interact or see each other daily and sometimes not even weekly so the absence can feel normal. Then something happens that I want to share with him or picture him giving Bret shit and I'm reminded that he's gone. For instance, Bret bought a new hammer and measuring tape last week and my initial reaction was to want to take a picture and send to Jerrod saying that he'd be proud of Bret's upgrade. On so many occasions he has given us a hard time about the quality of our tools, questioning if we're even real adults or something along those lines. He had just done this the Saturday before he died when I had him hang up my "badger crossing" sign in the garage commenting that he wanted a real hammer not a toy hammer. That was quintessential Jerrod though; he'd help you with anything, but he'd have something to harass you about in the process. My heart breaks that we'll never banter again. I know that while currently painful, these are the memories that will also make me smile and laugh as I remember him in years to come.
I initially just posted the resources below with no context, but decided to circle back to share a bit more of my own grief process and reflection of sitting in someone else's grief. I fully relate to not knowing what to do or say when someone is hurting and can fall prey to the temptation to fix. For me this doesn't stem from a lack of caring or unwillingness to sit in the pain with someone else. I've sat in plenty of pain with people, but I also know many times I have ignorantly or pridefully thought I could make it better with something I could do or say. What is most illuminating to me as I'm mourning Jerrod is that no one can fix this or make this better for me, as much as I wish they could. Sure there are probably things people can say that are unhelpful, but I'm not sure I could even pinpoint what those things are right now. In the instances where that might occur, I can have grace for people not knowing what to say because I often don't know what to say to describe what I'm feeling or know what to ask for when people offer help and support. However, I feel loved in the asking and it's a gentle reminder that the world hasn't entirely moved on without me.
Someone shared a website with me that has some resources for those who are grieving and those who are supporting someone in their grief. These are compiled by Megan Devine, author of It's Ok That You're Not Ok. I don't agree with everything she has shared (and am a little turned off by some of the over priced products), but I appreciate some of the suggestions she gives to support a grieving friend. I've shared the links below. She also has a blog and a podcast that I have yet to really dive into, but have heard they are helpful.
I couldn't help but smile reading your story of the classic Jerrod and Cassie banter, because as you said that has always been you two. I really enjoyed this post. I had a conversation with a co-worker who lost her husband to suicide. She shared a lot of what she felt in the grief process and what her experience was like with others. The things I took away from the conversation we had was to talk about them, don't feel like because of how they passed that they shouldn't be brought up in conversations as we would if someone who had cancer or died due to an accident. She said how she would sometimes feel alone because no one would bring him up, afraid it was too taboo, that it was harder being silent than it was to talk about him. It is quite possible maybe no one knew how to help, so thank you for these resources, I know I needed to read this.
ReplyDeleteYeah, I can totally relate to the difficulty with the silence. I think people might be afraid to ask any further details about the death when it's a suicide. I've definitely had conversations quickly end when I give the honest response to the question of how Jerrod died. I don't think people know what to say.
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