Recently I saw a provoking post in one of the grieving mother groups I follow on Face Book. It said something to the effect of, Stop trying to find the beauty in grief. We can learn to live with our grief but it will always hurt. The latter part is true. The former part, however, is what plagues me.
The author’s words resounded with some of the readers. There were a number of replies asserting that others feel this way too. It’s wonderful that they have found someone who shares their grieving style and perceptions.
It is important to accept the reality of grief. It’s great to be realistic about the fact that it will always be there, but please don’t judge what I do with my grief on my journey.
My agitation lies in the belief that no one should be telling us how to perceive our own emotions or journey. If we choose to find some parts beautiful, so be it. If we choose to focus on the depths of pain, alongside the joy, and not attribute anything positive to our grieving journey, that’s fine too. If we use humor as a relief and are able to find morbid laughter to help us in our journey, it’s our prerogative. If our grieving style encompasses a combination of these, awesome. Grief is so individual, as is our healing process. The important part is to find what works for you.
Claiming that grief should be done in a certain way is “grief shaming”. It results in us questioning ourselves about whether we are doing it right. How about we all just share our journey and whoever relates to a given way finds comfort in that?
We all have enough to focus on. Let’s not grief shame others. We are in it together. Let’s share and support each other. There is no right way to grieve. Find the style and tribe that works for you. Love to Heaven…
My name is Cara Martinisi. I am mother to three boys and a wife to my high school sweetheart. Up until three and a half years ago, I lived a mainly charmed life. I married the first boy I fell in love with, had three easy pregnancies and three healthy boys. Family and friends were plentiful and amazing. There were bumps in the road, like with anyone else. For the most part, though, I had lived my life with everything falling neatly into place.
This all changed after living 35 years in this manner. On July 3rd 2014, our house got struck by lightening. It was a scary experience, which resulted in a fire. Our entire family escaped the fire safely. Our home needed to be gutted and rebuilt, but we realized just how blessed we were to all be safe and sound. Fast forward exactly eight weeks later, to the end of the summer, August 28th. Our entire world was changed in a matter of minutes. We were living in a rental home, where a freak accident occurred. The supporting pole in the garage was not secure. It fell on my six year old son, Christian. My then three year old son and I witnessed the entire scene.
This has irrevocably changed who I am as a person in every way. I am now a bereaved mother. It may be one of my titles, but not my identity. My family will never be the same. We are left to move on, while we are not whole. The trauma, shock and pain resonates daily, in one way or another. My mission, now, is to help others who have joined this undesirable club. My mission is to carry on my son’s message, which was kindness. My mission, now, is to make a new normal. I hope you get some inspiration from my posts, whether you are a bereaved parent or not. Grieving a child teaches you lessons that one can never learn in any other way. As always, love to heaven...
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