Good Grief?

I don’t think the grief that I’m experiencing is the same emotion that Charlie Brown was talking about as he navigated his relationships with his friends. Is there a “good grief“? I’m trying to figure it out.

I’ve been experiencing grief in a way that I never expected. And there is no handbook to prepare me. Actually, I never thought I’d need a handbook for this grief – the grief of the sudden death of our firstborn, our son – Niels. Niels Allen Thomas.

What is this path or journey or process of grief? There’s no map to follow. The “sounds” of grief aren’t planned or predictable. But here’s something I’m noticing…for me…

I was just on the phone with Glen talking about the rolling waves of grief. I find myself caught up in the normal, daily tasks of life and also the unreal/surreal tasks of planning the celebration of Niels….creating invitations and remembrances, texting with people, reading notes, opening cards, answering phone calls, opening the door to a visitor, etc.

As I’m in the throes of these acts that are focused on Niels…I’m functioning on a cognitive level. I’m disassociating myself from the content of the tasks. It’s kind of an out of body/mind process. But…then I experience a moment…where the realization of what I am actually doing hits me in the gut. Am I actually planning the celebration of the life of my son? How can that be?

At the moment of this gut punch, I literally take a big gulp of air and I am stopped in my tracks. And I sob or my tears silently trickle down my cheeks. And I wonder…how can I possibly be functioning on a cognitive level? Shouldn’t I be crying…all of the time? What is wrong with me? After all…

…my son, my firstborn, my “mini-me” is not on this earth. I can’t bring myself to say that he “died”. And “passed away” is such a bland term…I don’t know what to call this new thing in my life.

What I do know – what I feel in that moment where I break from the cognitive and go to my gut…is that Niels won’t be walking through my door on Sunday for our weekly family dinner. I know that I won’t be hugging him good-bye when he heads home with his “to-go” box with leftovers from a favorite meal. I know that I’m going to miss him every day – and especially Sundays – for the rest of my life.

And…I don’t know how “grief ” can ever be “good“.