Time has not healed me but it has definitely helped me to find my poker face. There is a little voice inside of me which urges me to put myself out there and engage. People truly do need people yet there are now times I wish I could avoid all interactions.
Many grievers seem to have an unwanted list of thoughtless and hideous comments which have gotten stuck in their grief poison. What hurts the most is when these comments are made by those whom we trust and love or the ones we look to for support. Silly me that we expected all of our family and friends to understand how losing our child has devastated us.
In this second year, I have learned very few people are willing to remain present as we muddle through this nightmare. While we realize no one can fix us, we couldn’t help but notice how easily many scurry back to their lives and never look back. Or they observe me wearing my poker face and breathe a sigh of relief that I have FINALLY moved past the death of my daughter. Maybe if you had stuck around you would realize there is no expiration date on my love for Amy or how devastated I am existing without her.
For the record, I have learned that I am not acceptable to most people unless I wear my poker face. Thank goodness I have learned to go numb in order to make others comfortable when I am in your presence. After all, it’s your world, not mine and I wouldn’t want to do anything to bring anyone down. As another grieving parent recently mentioned in response to one of my posts, I am now just a guest in this world. My husband maintains we now live on the peripheral of life.
So do me a favor — after our paths cross and you finish your unrealistic ridiculous assessment of how I am doing now and chirp the good news to anyone who knows me, do not copy me on the memo. My disappointment in humanity cup is already overflowing. But feel free to remain clueless.
Always remembering Amy and the importance of her role in my life even if it appears to me that many have forgotten.