This week has continued the poop-tastic theme of 2017.
I really do wish I were posting anything other than attending another funeral but I am not. And while there are really great things going on, this is taking all of my brain space and it must be expelled.
Please remind me after this post that I did promise to write about the great things. The great things must be written about.
Enough of this grief crap.
I wrote on Facebook this week that the worst thing about fighting for this disease is knowing what everyone is going through; loss, fear, anger, grief over a disease that tends to take everything. It is isolating and heartbreaking.
Robert Devine was born one week before Samantha with a mitochondrial disease. He and Samantha were in the same Anchor Center class. He fought so hard for his ten years and his parents were relentless in his fight.
I sat in a pew today between Maria and Jacob's nurse, Gemma as we said goodbye to Robert. We held hands and cried as the bagpiper played Amazing Grace.
I do not feel Amazing.
I did not feel Graceful.
I did feel a bit like a Wretch.
But I also did not feel alone.
We all stood together as we have so many times when confronted with these awful circumstances.
We all speak the same language- the language of grief.
It is not anything you ever want to be fluent in; or even well-versed for that matter. It is a heartbreaking language to learn and it will change the way you view the world forever. Those fluent become extraordinarily honest and find they are no longer versed in the opposite language- the language of bullshit. Small talk can also be difficult once fluent in Grief.
It can be hard to find others who speak Grief. But once found, there is an instant connection; a sad but relieved connection. "Thank God I am not alone."
I left today sad, exhausted but full of love and amazing respect for these families. I also found that after a morning of speaking Grief, I had no more room for any other language; other conversations were hard and my brain was distracted. Everything else in the world seemed trite.
It breaks my heart that this group of those who speak Grief has grown....this pisses my off. As Anger and Grief sometimes share the same vocabulary, I guess this is expected.
Ironically, I have also found that tolerance and acceptance can also be synonymous with this language. I guess it depends on what thesaurus you use.....or the time of day.
I find the time of day to be more predictable.
Most important, finding others is imperative to navigating this painful, foreign tongue. Unlike my high school Spanish, the language of Grief doesn't go away if you don't use it.
Grateful for those who speak my language .....which is poop-tastic that you speak it too but know I am grateful you will hold my snotty Kleenex hand and refuse to talk small.