Journal to a Muse

Grief can change you.

I read Harriet Brown's tender feature from yesterday's New York Times while sitting in Starbucks waiting for a friend. Each of Ms. Brown's two daughters had survived near fatal diseases; one at age 8 and the other shortly after at age 14. Although she coped, cared and "managed" (and the daughters survived), when they recovered, she didn't. After they were "well," she developed insomnia, depression, and even flashbacks which included the antiseptic scents from the hospital.

Most of us get to ignore the real possibility of death. Sometimes we throw things at it to undermine its power: safety seats, annual check-ups, innumerable phone calls, crash helmets, wrist and knee pads.

Neither of my children have had life-threatening illnesses. I don't think they've even had near misses on any objective scale. So why was I weeping into my Vente coffee? Why was I looking for a tissue?

Because there can be a huge grief and sense of loss after one has faced down terror. That comes after dodging death. Most days we assume that we (and our loved ones) will make it through the day.

Cracking that assumption is the loss. It's worth a few tears, I think.

To gauge how tough it is to face, just ask somebody to imagine that their child is dead. I don't know anybody who wants to go there.

Back when I was in the middle of a divorce, and had to face custody arrangements, precarious finances and long "abnormal" absences while the kids were in their father's care, my assumptions broke down. I recognized that I had assumed I would always be there to protect my children. I had assumed they would always be with me. The assumption fractured. Anything could happen.

And the memory of those times, when triggered, can be as wrenching, as haunting and as much of a nightmare as being in the midst of the situation.

So, may I say, that even if it looks like someone has escaped tragedy, and "ought to be happy" or "ought to be over it," the horrible experience of what might have been can still lurk near by. We can't possibly know what losses, exploded assumptions or traumas are haunting those around us.

Everyone has their own pace when it comes to grief. They have their own timetable for re prioritizing the beliefs, activities and assumptions of their life.

Be kind. Be patient. Be accepting. To them. To yourself.