My Un-Understood Grief

Well. For catharsis' sake I make this entry.

My Father died just over a month ago.

How should someone respond to that? I sent out lots of emails and phone calls asking for people to pray for him as his condition declined in the hospital. (It was just a hernia repair, which cascaded into the unbelievable.) When it all abruptly and surrealy ended, I informed them of the loss. Now, nearly everyone I know has need to make mention of it.

What should people say to me when they see me? (Like this is all about me - but let's run with this line of thought.) What can they say? Mostly I hear "I'm so sorry" and ask me how I'm doing.

Let's not make the mistake of thinking I don't appreciate their empathetic mode or their desire to know if I'm dealing with the grief "well." I do. The thing is, I think, that we as Americans in the modern era don't have much skill or practice with this type of thing. It's far less common, this personal familiarity with loss than I think it must be in most other parts of the world. We're awkward about it. I'm awkward about it.

My Father has died. I have, obviously, never before comprehended the full weight of that. I probably don't now, nor will for some time. When people ask me "How are you doing John?" I get irritated - not for the reason you think. More because I'm not sure how to respond.

How am I doing? At present I think I could answer that one of two ways.

Option One: I could have a conversation with them about the fullness of my Father's life, how he reared me, his moments of weakness and withdrawl, our level of intimacy, what strength he passed to me, what failings I have had to overcome, and the new strangeness of this reality; that your parents (if all goes relatively well) are the ONLY constant - the singular relationship in which you find yourself engaged since before you are able to remember. They always have been - like some relational mountain. There is no other such relationship. I could try to have a conversation - when people ask - about the simultaneous absurdities of being no where close to full realization of what this loss means and trying to heal. That conversation, I think, would do me a lot of good. But I haven't had it yet. (not even with myself)

Option Two: I could say "I'm doing fine."


So, what's irritating about this is that I can't really give either answer. The first option isn't an option, because in nearly every instance that I see my friends and co-workers, the context, the timing and the personal investment are probably all not up to muster for a full answer. Americans really just want to hear a one minute update. Really. With the exception of a few close friends, that's what I want when I have conversations too.

Option Two I can't go with. While people do want a synopsis, there should be some genuine element to it. Plus, the dialogue is "How are you doing with your Dad's death?" and I answer "I'm doing just fine." I'm doing a pretty big disservice to myself (that would be a bit more than an oversimplification) and to the memory and impact of my Dad. I'm fine with my Dad's death? Right. Now they'll think I'm in some kind of denial, or we had some kind of estrangement.

What I need is a 2 minute answer. But there is none. So, I usually wind up saying a few cliches and trying to give some information that is a little bit vulnerable and sincere but doesn't required a major time commitment or beg further pursuit.

Is that unhealthy? Shallow?

I'd really rather not talk about it much if I can't probe it deeply. I hate it right now that it most often comes up in small talk. I say a few "yeah it's hard"s then transition into talking about my Mom, who has more to adjust to. (Which is so true, but in part might be a dodge.)

The my most appreciated responses thus far? Honestly? Those who've said something like "John, we will continue to pray for you." I hope that's true. That's really what I want. They have cared. They know I will somehow need more support and prayer. They don't presume I could tell them what I'll need and they don't ask me to encapsulate the next few years of processing and self-discovery right then in a sound bite. They also recognize that if I need Option One with someone, I can probably ask someone who is willing to wade through it all with me.

I do need to wade through sometime soon - with someone who knows. Because the fact of the matter is - you comprehend that this type of loss will be far reaching and depth shaking when that day inevitably comes, but no amount of articulate explanation and theoretical empathy can match a knowing "Me too... Me too."

I miss my Dad.