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by Deborah Tainsh
Grief, according to Webster’s New World Dictionary:
1: intense emotional suffering caused by a loss.
2: come to grief, to be ruined. Grievous: deplorable, very bad, wretched: very bad, miserable, contemptible, despicable: deserving scorn; atrocious: very cruel and evil.
So something very grievous, very cruel and evil that deserves scorn has happened to us and caused us to be filled with grief, this ruinous emotional suffering caused by our greatest loss. So, this is how we define the feelings of suffering the death of a child. But no one “outside the wire” of our experience can possibly ever understand the depths of this. And having lost children to war only adds to the cruel, ruinous emotional suffering because war seems to be the unacceptable death, debated in homes and hallways of the world because of the availability of instant media and split opinions.
War families hear from others about how they understand because they have suffered the death of a parent, grandparent, sibling, or other in their world outside a military at war. What they have not suffered is being humiliated by the arguments of whether their loved one’s death was for a righteous reason or not. We hear, “I support the troops, but not the war.” We hear blasphemy against our nation’s warriors. We see and feel the negative energy of a split country that leads crazies to appear at the funerals of our fallen heroes and hold signs that say God killed our sons and daughters because they deserved it.
Yet those “outside the wire” of our reality tell us we have to move on, we have to get over it, and believe that we can bounce back into the world we were once a part of before our world was ripped apart. They want us to be our old selves as though nothing serious really happened. Many pull away from us because they can not handle the cup we’ve been given. And we pull away because we feel the change in their demeanor toward us, or we know they get tired of hearing our stories and our memories because we have been left with nothing new to say about the child we’ve buried. We’re expected to pack them up in a box on a closet shelf and move on, to become the happy go lucky folks we once were. Despicable words for this unwanted club we belong to, and the reason those of us who suffer such grief have to hold to one another during the worst time of our lives. Without each other, those of us suffering so deeply would never get through the initial months and years of adjusting to this new norm that now encompasses our lives.
In 2007 my husband and I attended the funeral home visitation of a fallen hero and spoke with his mom. Two days later I sat with her in her home to listen, talk, and share, then gave her my phone number to call me if she needed me anytime, 24/7. The circumstances of her son’s suicide death in Iraq were different from any other parent I’d bonded with. One of her greatest disturbances was what to say to people who asked how her son died. She didn’t want to have to talk about her son taking his own life because of her concern that the media would use it in a negative manner to condemn the war. She was proud of her son, and he had dearly loved being a member of the U.S. Armed Forces. But on his second tour, his PTSD (post traumatic syndrome) got the best of him.
When this mom called me in tears to tell me that she felt up against a wall because she didn’t know how to respond to continual inquiries about how her son died, I told her to tell those who ask that she didn’t want to talk about how her son died, but she would be happy to talk about how he lived, how proud he was to serve in the Army, and how proud she was of his accomplishments. She felt so relieved just by my listening and providing words that might be helpful. When I spoke with her days later, she told me how the response was working well for her. She, of course, was still suffering so deeply in those first fresh weeks after her son’s death, so I also reminded her that the various roller-coaster of emotions she felt from one day to the next were normal.
She shared with me that after about a month, an acquaintance took her out to lunch and of course that question arose. “How are you doing?” When this mom said, “Well, I think I’m functioning some better, and I don’t feel as confused as I was,” the acquaintance ask her why she was confused. My friend and Gold Star mom told me how the question just floored her because she couldn’t believe that the lady didn’t seem to have a clue as to why her mind had been so “cloudy and undependable.”
I let her know that this kind of response wasn’t unusual because, again, those outside our reality truly do not understand the depths of this grief and its effects on our minds, emotions, and bodies. Therefore the only response we can provide to individuals who question our new mental state and clouded minds is that these are the products caused by the trauma of our grief. Products that we have to work through with much time, patience and help from others, products that we would not wish upon anyone.
My friend also shared with me that she had been feeling tired and sluggish, even with pains that felt like flu symptoms. She was very concerned because the pain seemed to come only at a certain time of the day. When she shared this with her counselor and doctor, they told her she would need some tests, maybe see a rheumatologist. She just didn’t feel that this was the right answer. She then took it upon herself to research the by- products of grief. She found on the internet the subject matter of the physical and emotional effects of grief by Brook Noel. One of the effects was flu like symptoms. My friend laughed and said she returned to her counselor and doctor and educated them by providing them with a copy of the article.
Grief is certainly the one emotion that no one studies in advance. It’s a stranger to us until we are mauled by its despicable, contemptible evil. It’s the evil that others don’t know how to respond to because classes in grief protocol and etiquette are not taught or searched for as a leisure hobby. Therefore, we the grieving have to learn from one another in grief groups, chance meetings and conversations with others of the same experience, or from our own search through books and articles, or a good counselor. Then we have to educate those who ask us uncomfortable questions or make unintentional foolish comments. And we find that we have to forgive them because they’ve never had reason to learn about these abysmal depths until they hang out with those like us for a while or encounter their own experience that we would never wish upon them.
In my phone conversation with this particular mom, she shared that she would force herself up by 10:00 a.m. and go on what she called her grief walk to try and remove the feeling of jumping out of her skin. During her grief walk she stomps with each step as though she could drive a hole into the sidewalk. And instead of staying in bed and crying all day, she often drives around crying and screaming in heavy traffic where she can’t be heard. She does the pillow to the face screaming at home. I personally used post hole diggers to dig holes in my backyard’s hard as brick Georgia red clay while I screamed. But at least I now have a beautiful azalea garden.
By the time my Gold Star mom friend and I finished our conversation that evening, we were both laughing, but also validating that this is what the journey of grief does to us. I also assured her that although we will never be the same persons we were before, and that we will probably never fit comfortably again in the same social circles as we once did due to opinions and reactions about the war and casualties, one thing for sure, we Gold Star parents have one another. I also let her know that although the first year to two are so very difficult, that with time, the weight of the anvil of grief and pain in the heart does lessen. Although this too depends on what we choose to do for ourselves or others in order to begin finding our own peace and place again in life. We will never be the same people we were before the death of a child. But if we stick together, we can continue striving to keep surviving this journey of our folded flags in a time of chaos and war.
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