From Mary: We lost our most precious son Nov 14, 2006. He was 27, a firefighter, preparing for his wedding, had just bought a house on five acres, was so enjoying his life. He lived with us till a year before. We talked to him every day and saw him almost every day. He was my baby and my pride and joy. I miss him so badly, I cannot function. I am so tired of people telling me to move on! My life is over, my future is over, why can’t they understand this? What can I say to people (even my doctors) who think grief should last only one year?
Dr. Norman Fried responds: Dear Mary: You are correct in saying that friends and family (even and especially doctors) don’t fully understand. This is because our friends define our healing only through our happiness. They long for our return to our earlier, “lighter” selves. Few people understand that the person we were before grief entered into our lives has changed, and forevermore. If only they could acknowledge that we are changed, that we are different. Yes, we will laugh again, but not in the same way. We will dance, and smile, but inside we will always have our private sorrow.
This does not mean that your friends can’t be there for, and with, you at times. But you are in need of more: Namely, kindred souls who speak the same language and have walked the same or similar traumatic paths. You have a story to tell. The story of your beloved son. Of his past. And of the future that should have been. Surround yourself around these people, even one person who gets it, (as in a grief specialist), and ask him to listen to your stories of love. For when you find someone who is educated, wise and truly understanding, the telling of your story will help you to lay claim to the person you once were, and it will help you to lay claim to the person you are capable of becoming.
Dr. Norman J. Fried, Ph.D., is director of psycho-social services for the Division of Pediatric Hematology/Oncology at Winthrop University on Long Island, New York. A clinical psychologist with graduate degrees from Emory University, he has also taught in the medical schools of New York University and St. John’s University, and has been a fellow in clinical and pediatric psychology at Harvard Medical School. His website is www.normanfried.com.
Tags: grief, hope
My son died on 9/30/06, and I will be forever changed. The pain and sufferomg is emmense and there are no words to describe them to anyone. Nor do I try. I suffer in silence because I know that no one truly can understand this pain and sadness – or the sense of loss and guilt as a paraent. I miss my son every minute of every day. ?he was 26, strong, loving, loyal, hard working, and didn?t want to die . He was a family man with old fashioned values – he loved me, his dad, his sister, and his entire family so very much, he would do anything for anyone at a given moment. His hugs were sincere – he presence was bigger than life itself. We talked everyday, and we loved everyday. We were a close family, and I did everything humanly possible I thought to “save” him. I can affirm to your advice to reach out to others who have or are experiencing the same life journey,. In some way by reaching out to others like ourselfs helps us on several levels. We don?t have to pretend with one another – we always know that underneath a smile or the midst of a conversation, our children are in our hearts, and our broken hearts are mending slowly. These people were “strangers” to me, and we met under the most tragic of circumstances but they have become my closest and dearest friends, and my true support now. My family and friends expect life to go on as usual – and that just hurts too much. So thank you for your article – it made sense, and I hope others will heed your advise to reach out to those who share the same loss and grief for support and understanding to just ?be?. Linda