Word of the week - Words

It was a year ago today we held Stephanie's funeral. I've never felt such anguish in my entire life. In the days leading up to this I wasn't functioning. I wasn't eating, washing or sleeping and was struggling to even think. There was so much to do including sorting out her finances and dealing with extra pressures that I cannot yet blog about, but it's almost farcical and it'll sound like a badly written dark comedy.

Anyway back to my Word of the week - Words.

Are there words of comfort?

Are there the right words?

Are there the wrong words?

All I can say from experience of grief and loss over the past year are that the only wrong words are the unspoken ones. Not the moments of silence when I speak about Stephanie. Those moments of silence when someone is there with me, or on the end of the phone are appreciated. The moments when the other person doesn't feel the need to fill the gaps.

There have been many words spoken. There have been many blank looks and looks of sheer panic as people just don't know what to say and have randomly talked about losing a beloved pet. Most of all people will want to share with you their experience of losing a parent and the process they went through with their grieving. I don't have a problem with that. Both Peter and I lost our fathers, without notice, without warning, just the same as how Stephanie died. Peter's father was 59, like Stephanie at 36, too young to have died, my father was 77. We know how it feels to have lost a parent, losing a child is very different, it's not the natural order of things, but grief is personal and it's not a competition.

We hear a lot 'time heals' 'they say it takes a year and a day' 'it's early days yet' and I guess these are just gap fillers. Words said to just say something that sounds meaningful. 

But I guess that's better than those who look like a rabbit caught in the headlights, that you see scurry off in the opposite direction, or those who no longer visit or keep in touch. You question it and people say 'oh I guess they're finding it hard to know what to say' and you reply with 'they're finding it hard?'

Try picking up the phone and telling your children their sister died. 

But those missing words, from the missing people, who fail to ask how we are, who fail to keep in touch or check in. Those people who we told at the beginning that Stephanie had died, those people who were part of Stephanie's life who after that initial conversation a year ago haven't mentioned her name since or who have within minutes of us raising her name, gone silent or just changed the subject. Those missing words have hurt, have stung and can't be understood.

I sound angry, irrational, oh woe is me and maybe I am. But it's played a huge part in the grieving process over the past year. Those who have been there who have helped us through in whatever form and those who should've but haven't been there, who maybe didn't think it was their place, or maybe thought we had enough support, or maybe just didn't care enough about Stephanie or us. Who knows? I'm hurt, but I'm done with caring now.

Unfortunately, 'sticks and stones .... but lack of words has hurt me'