When I had my first miscarriage in 2006, I grieved here on this blog. I poured my sorrow out through my words so that I could leave the pain here and try to get on with daily life.
It worked for me.
This time, I'm publicly grieving for my best friend. I'm laying out the pain, the utter agony, of losing the person I have had holding my hand through life for 25 years. Here are the pieces of my heart, shattered for you. Tread lightly among my words, for they are threading those pieces back together again.
Today, more people I actually see in real life sometimes read my words. I run into them, and I feel weird for smiling. I feel awkward for not breaking down into a puddle of tears.
The thing is, by laying out the grief here, I am better able to pull myself together in real life.
Susan understood that.
At BlogHer in 2008, she spoke on a grief panel. Most of the bloggers on the panel had blogged about personal illness or loss. Susan described what it was like to blog so personally about her cancer diagnosis and treatment while still maintaining so much privacy for her family. At some point in the session, I mentioned that I blogged to leave it behind me for the day.
There is no point to that paragraph, other than the fact that it has been on my mind all day.
I am fine out in public. I have to be. It is my nature to smile, laugh, and make inappropriate jokes.
The only time I am not fine is when I have reason to say the actual words out loud, "My best friend, Susan, died last Monday." Actually saying it out loud always get me. Hell. Just typing it makes me cry. Somehow, that very concrete admittance of the obvious just sticks in my throat. I know that not saying doesn't mean it didn't happen. I just hate saying it.
So I grieve here. Where I can wallow and hurt and cry and gnash my teeth. I will hit publish, be comforted by the wisdom and compassion of so many people who take the time to share it with me. Then I will close the laptop, get up, and go on with life.
It's far from fair, but doing anything any differently won't change the fact that she is gone.
I was thinking about you this morning as I was walking to work, thinking about how hard this is for you, and thinking about the ties that blogs create, and the very public-in-blogland grief that throws all those very personal memories of yours in with the memories and connections created through words for so many of the rest of us......I hope that our words here in your comments help hold you while you do the work of threading your heart together. Your words are precious.
ReplyDeleteoh, marty. sending you so much love.
ReplyDeleteI have been trying to comment on your blog for a week, and now that I finally can, I don't know what to say. I hope your meeting at the school went well today. I hope you know how much I am thinking about you. I hope you know how much the DC Moms loved Susan and claimed her as ours, but really, you had just loaned her to us.
ReplyDeleteI'm sending you love and hugs and warmth.
Have been thinking about you. I looked up last night and was so disappointed to only see a half moon --Susan would want me to know the exact terminology, but then again she would have understood my laymans terms as well. Your process is yours--non one can take that away from you.
ReplyDelete*hugs* we're here for you, even if it's just to read and tell you that we care.
ReplyDeleteShe'll be proud of so much love that you have for her. For sure she is happy watching you.
ReplyDeleteSending love and hug >>>
...and we're here, soaking up some of that grief for you, and with you.
ReplyDeleteSeveral years ago when I suffered my own personal loss, I felt the same way as you describe. I could put on a "mask" and go out and pretend to function in public (it's amazing what you can do when you have no choice), but I couldn't comprehend how the world could just go on turning. I felt like screaming, "Don't you people understand what's HAPPENING???!!" But, of course, I couldn't. My whole life became an excruciating exercise in understatement.
Time passes, but grief doesn't. I think we just eventually get better at coping with it.
Sending you so much love, xoxo CGF
I just started reading your blog last week and haven't known what to say. I'm a friend of Susan's from the DC moms. I guess today I just want to say that I am hear to read and listen as you lay your grief down here. Also, please know that I am keeping you in my prayers as you thread your heart together.
ReplyDeleteSometimes writing the words is the only thing we can do. It helps to get it out of your head. Keep doing it honey. We are all here.
ReplyDeleteIt's been almost 4 years and sometimes the words "when Dad died" sound ABSURD to me.
ReplyDeleteI feel you.
ReplyDeleteI grieve on my blog too.
Cathartic.
I'm thinking of you and Susan's family every day.
Love to you all.
I'm just a stranger, but I want to tell you how much my heart hurts for you. I couldn't even begin to imagine what you must be feeling. I cry just thinking about it and that what if it were me? I'm so very sorry that this happened to you, and to everyone who ever has to lose their best friend to something so wicked and insidious. I can't fathom it.
ReplyDeleteGiving you a virtual hug and holding you in my thoughts.
Carmen
We are here, also grieving. Thinking of you.
ReplyDeleteI am holding you in my heart.
ReplyDelete--Editdebs
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ReplyDelete