G R A C E
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I knew the day would come when someone around me would feel like I shouldn’t be grieving still. I knew the day would come that someone would say it was time for me to move on. I knew the day would come that I had to humble myself in a moment where anger would be easier. I didn’t think the moment would come so soon, but it did & it hurt. More than I expected.
It wasn’t a comment said directly to me, it was said as I walked out of a room and repeated to me later & I cried. It hurt me to the core. I wish I could just move on too. I wish it was so easy to just flip a page in the book and say oh I’m all better now. The thing about losing your child is that it changes your entire being. You wake up one day an entirely different person than you were 24 hours prior. It cuts your soul so deep there is no “moving on” or “getting over it”. There is no recovery time or ability to be able to know what each moment brings. One minute I can be happy and laughing and the next I’m crying because I heard a song or I had a flash back & until you go to bed every single night picturing your dead child’s body under a white sheet, you don’t get to judge my journey.
Now, I have spoken to this person after the incident & sometimes things get said out of anger. I get it. Until you’ve been through it you don’t understand. But, it triggered an insecurity of mine which made me want to run. So much so that I wanted to quit my job and hide from the world forever. In fact, I told my husband I was quitting because 1. I was angry 2. I was hurt & for months I’ve felt like the girl people sometimes feel sorry for but don’t actually understand. The girl that can’t move on. The crazy one that’s in the corner. A Debbie downer, someone people tolerate but don’t actually like, not just at work but in so many aspects of my life. I’ve felt like I didn’t deserve to be happy because who can be happy after their child is dead? Who can continue everyday when they have lost the one thing that gave them life? Who wants to constantly hear the stories of the dead child. Who truly wants to be around the girl who can’t get her emotions together from one minute to another? Who is smiling one minute & screaming the next? My brain convinced me the answer was no one. So when those words were said they triggered an insecurity in me that I wasn’t ready to deal with yet.
The truth is I am distracted. I am fuzzy and in a fog. I don’t remember things, I am snappy & I am tired. I go days without sleep, then I sleep for days. I still lay awake and cry sometimes. I still take mental health days frequently, I still stay home and avoid the world when I feel overwhelmed. I am still depressed and anxious. To the outside world it’s been a lifetime since we lost Cooper but to me it was still just yesterday & I continue to relive his death every single day. I fear judgement & for people to really see what this journey looks like for me. I wish I carried it better. I wish I was stronger but, I’m not. I’m just doing the best I can.
There’s so much depth to any type of grief that people don’t understand until they experience it. It’s like a mack truck sitting on your chest so you can’t breath. It’s like the world is spinning but you are at a stand still. It’s like drowning in water & not being able to catch the life float. It’s knowing exactly what you should be doing but not being able to figure out how to start. It’s not doing the last load of laundry so you can still smell them. It’s waking up expecting them to still be there. It’s an exhaustion that I can’t explain. There is so much depth to this grief that loss parents don’t share. Not because we don’t want to, but it’s so dark & deep there’s almost no words to describe it.
What I can say is that over the last week as I’ve gone over this scenario in my head a hundred times I learned one thing…even though my life has changed & I’ve changed, I am still worthy of grace & love even if not everyone believes so. I will N E V E R be the Kendra I was when I left for work August 31, 2020 again. I won’t ever focus like I used to, I won’t ever be able to handle the load I used to, I won’t ever be as organized as I used to be. I won’t put up with people like I used to, I won’t handle confrontation like I used to. I am a new version of me & I am still learning what that new version looks like. I am still trying to process the emotions and anger and overwhelming anxiety I feel every single day. I will never return to the girl I used to be but this new version of me isn’t so bad either & the only person I have to convince of that is me.
If I could give advice to anyone hurting today I would say to look inward before trying to fix others or make them understand. Most likely, they won’t change nor will they understand. But we control our reactions. We control the way we present ourselves, and how others see us respond says more about us than the horrible things that come out of peoples mouths out of anger. Just stay humble & be thankful that they don’t understand why we are the way we are because I truly wouldn’t wish this pain upon anyone.
If I could give advice to the people surrounding the people who are hurting I would say to remind yourself that we don’t just heal. There is no time frame to our pain. Grief is not linear & there is no start to finish point. We require a lot of patience and grace & while I know it’s frustrating it’s just our reality. Some of the loss parents I’ve talked to are still trying to figure out their grief years down the road & that’s okay. Be thankful you don’t understand but keep your negative feelings to yourself because we don’t need to hear them.
My inner strength & ability to show grace was tested. Ultimately, God reminded me that we all have a story & I have bad days & sometimes so do other people. And that’s okay. We all say things out of anger at some point but I learned that the only person I have to worry about pleasing is myself. If people only tolerate me and don’t actually care about me, that’s okay. Not everyone enjoys peaches. If people are tired of hearing about my grief, that’s okay. My life story isn’t for everyone. I won’t stop talking about Cooper even if it makes everyone in the world uncomfortable. I am uncomfortable every single day because of the things that come out of peoples mouths but that doesn’t seem to stop it. The only person that has to accept this new me, is me & if people don’t like this new me then they don’t have to stick around.
I am not looking for any kind of sympathy. This isn’t the first and surely won’t be the last person who has verbalized their feelings regarding our child’s death and our grief journey. I bring this topic up because I want to remind people that you never know what battle someone else is fighting & if you ever find yourself on the angry side of an inappropriate conversation have the ability to apologize or work on your self control. It takes hardly any effort to just be nice. It takes minimal effort to keep your mouth shut if what you’re about to say isn’t going to serve a greater purpose. Sometimes the best advice is none at all. But, if you find yourself on the receiving end of the anger please remember that it is not our responsibility to manage anyone else’s feelings regarding our trauma or grief. They don’t and never will get it. Remind yourself to have grace & move forward.
As I continue to move forward in this journey & come across these experiences I will continue to share my thoughts because if I help one person I am doing my job. As I continue to figure out this new me and grow into my new skin I will continue to share the good, the bad, the ugly because if I keep one person from feeling crazy or misunderstood then I’ve done my job. I fully believe Coopers job here was to teach me what love & grace really is & I will continue to share that grace and love far & wide so when I finally get to see him again he tells me just how proud I know he is.
-For The Love of Coop
P.S. - If you don’t like it…don’t read it 😉
P.S.S. - This isn’t a post to shame anyone. If this makes you uncomfortable I suggest looking inward at what really bugs you about someone else’s grief response. If you are thinking of someone specific in your discomfort…you probably owe them an apology. ✌🏽
It wasn’t a comment said directly to me, it was said as I walked out of a room and repeated to me later & I cried. It hurt me to the core. I wish I could just move on too. I wish it was so easy to just flip a page in the book and say oh I’m all better now. The thing about losing your child is that it changes your entire being. You wake up one day an entirely different person than you were 24 hours prior. It cuts your soul so deep there is no “moving on” or “getting over it”. There is no recovery time or ability to be able to know what each moment brings. One minute I can be happy and laughing and the next I’m crying because I heard a song or I had a flash back & until you go to bed every single night picturing your dead child’s body under a white sheet, you don’t get to judge my journey.
Now, I have spoken to this person after the incident & sometimes things get said out of anger. I get it. Until you’ve been through it you don’t understand. But, it triggered an insecurity of mine which made me want to run. So much so that I wanted to quit my job and hide from the world forever. In fact, I told my husband I was quitting because 1. I was angry 2. I was hurt & for months I’ve felt like the girl people sometimes feel sorry for but don’t actually understand. The girl that can’t move on. The crazy one that’s in the corner. A Debbie downer, someone people tolerate but don’t actually like, not just at work but in so many aspects of my life. I’ve felt like I didn’t deserve to be happy because who can be happy after their child is dead? Who can continue everyday when they have lost the one thing that gave them life? Who wants to constantly hear the stories of the dead child. Who truly wants to be around the girl who can’t get her emotions together from one minute to another? Who is smiling one minute & screaming the next? My brain convinced me the answer was no one. So when those words were said they triggered an insecurity in me that I wasn’t ready to deal with yet.
The truth is I am distracted. I am fuzzy and in a fog. I don’t remember things, I am snappy & I am tired. I go days without sleep, then I sleep for days. I still lay awake and cry sometimes. I still take mental health days frequently, I still stay home and avoid the world when I feel overwhelmed. I am still depressed and anxious. To the outside world it’s been a lifetime since we lost Cooper but to me it was still just yesterday & I continue to relive his death every single day. I fear judgement & for people to really see what this journey looks like for me. I wish I carried it better. I wish I was stronger but, I’m not. I’m just doing the best I can.
There’s so much depth to any type of grief that people don’t understand until they experience it. It’s like a mack truck sitting on your chest so you can’t breath. It’s like the world is spinning but you are at a stand still. It’s like drowning in water & not being able to catch the life float. It’s knowing exactly what you should be doing but not being able to figure out how to start. It’s not doing the last load of laundry so you can still smell them. It’s waking up expecting them to still be there. It’s an exhaustion that I can’t explain. There is so much depth to this grief that loss parents don’t share. Not because we don’t want to, but it’s so dark & deep there’s almost no words to describe it.
What I can say is that over the last week as I’ve gone over this scenario in my head a hundred times I learned one thing…even though my life has changed & I’ve changed, I am still worthy of grace & love even if not everyone believes so. I will N E V E R be the Kendra I was when I left for work August 31, 2020 again. I won’t ever focus like I used to, I won’t ever be able to handle the load I used to, I won’t ever be as organized as I used to be. I won’t put up with people like I used to, I won’t handle confrontation like I used to. I am a new version of me & I am still learning what that new version looks like. I am still trying to process the emotions and anger and overwhelming anxiety I feel every single day. I will never return to the girl I used to be but this new version of me isn’t so bad either & the only person I have to convince of that is me.
If I could give advice to anyone hurting today I would say to look inward before trying to fix others or make them understand. Most likely, they won’t change nor will they understand. But we control our reactions. We control the way we present ourselves, and how others see us respond says more about us than the horrible things that come out of peoples mouths out of anger. Just stay humble & be thankful that they don’t understand why we are the way we are because I truly wouldn’t wish this pain upon anyone.
If I could give advice to the people surrounding the people who are hurting I would say to remind yourself that we don’t just heal. There is no time frame to our pain. Grief is not linear & there is no start to finish point. We require a lot of patience and grace & while I know it’s frustrating it’s just our reality. Some of the loss parents I’ve talked to are still trying to figure out their grief years down the road & that’s okay. Be thankful you don’t understand but keep your negative feelings to yourself because we don’t need to hear them.
My inner strength & ability to show grace was tested. Ultimately, God reminded me that we all have a story & I have bad days & sometimes so do other people. And that’s okay. We all say things out of anger at some point but I learned that the only person I have to worry about pleasing is myself. If people only tolerate me and don’t actually care about me, that’s okay. Not everyone enjoys peaches. If people are tired of hearing about my grief, that’s okay. My life story isn’t for everyone. I won’t stop talking about Cooper even if it makes everyone in the world uncomfortable. I am uncomfortable every single day because of the things that come out of peoples mouths but that doesn’t seem to stop it. The only person that has to accept this new me, is me & if people don’t like this new me then they don’t have to stick around.
I am not looking for any kind of sympathy. This isn’t the first and surely won’t be the last person who has verbalized their feelings regarding our child’s death and our grief journey. I bring this topic up because I want to remind people that you never know what battle someone else is fighting & if you ever find yourself on the angry side of an inappropriate conversation have the ability to apologize or work on your self control. It takes hardly any effort to just be nice. It takes minimal effort to keep your mouth shut if what you’re about to say isn’t going to serve a greater purpose. Sometimes the best advice is none at all. But, if you find yourself on the receiving end of the anger please remember that it is not our responsibility to manage anyone else’s feelings regarding our trauma or grief. They don’t and never will get it. Remind yourself to have grace & move forward.
As I continue to move forward in this journey & come across these experiences I will continue to share my thoughts because if I help one person I am doing my job. As I continue to figure out this new me and grow into my new skin I will continue to share the good, the bad, the ugly because if I keep one person from feeling crazy or misunderstood then I’ve done my job. I fully believe Coopers job here was to teach me what love & grace really is & I will continue to share that grace and love far & wide so when I finally get to see him again he tells me just how proud I know he is.
-For The Love of Coop
P.S. - If you don’t like it…don’t read it 😉
P.S.S. - This isn’t a post to shame anyone. If this makes you uncomfortable I suggest looking inward at what really bugs you about someone else’s grief response. If you are thinking of someone specific in your discomfort…you probably owe them an apology. ✌🏽