When to Say When You Don’t Know What to Say
by Jason Kimble
It has been a really long time since I have posted a blog post. I think that the reason that it has been so long is because I just don’t know what to say. I had reached a point in my grief a little while back where I thought that things were just “fixed.” I thought that I was at a point where I had moved into a place where I felt like this was something that I had dealt with and had “made peace” with. I was wrong.
I sit here now and I know that there is so much that I am missing. I know that there is something that is not present in my life and will never be corrected. I think about the holidays and think of all the things I will miss out on. I sit here and I ask myself, how can I really begin to cope with this when nothing is the same? Nothing will ever be the same. You can’t replace. You can’t repair. Everything you expected and everything you prepared for is missing.
And this is why I have not written. How does a person share ways to move forward or share things with people when they themselves are so buried? I’m not looking for pity. I’m not saying life is over. I just feel odd imparting advice on people when I myself don’t know what to do. So since there is nothing I can say, all I can do is bare my soul and share what I am going through.
This type of loss is so much more difficult for me to comprehend than other types of loss that I have experienced. In this year alone, I lost a Grandmother and also lost a close family friend. But these were different. They were still hard, but when it is all said and done, at least I have my memories. I have things that I can remember and think about warmly and fondly. We don’t get that. We don’t get anything. All we have is the anticipation that is lost. We can’t say “at least we will always have…” Even now as Christmas approaches, I am surrounded by the thoughts that I will never be able to buy my daughter her first Christmas gifts. I won’t be able to see her joy as she opens her presents. I won’t get to see her on Thanksgiving enjoying her Mommy’s mashed potatoes or teacher her that the best kind of cranberry sauce is the gel kind that comes in the can. I won’t have my little cheerleader sitting with me on Thanksgiving Day watching her Daddy’s Dallas Cowboys play football. I get nothing. I get sitting here thinking about what we want to do about a grave marker. I get to try and figure out having a Christmas that should have been so special.
This sort of thing is not fair. It’s not natural or right. It’s just wrong. That’s the best way to put it. It is wrong. I know that at the end of the day, time will continue to go forward and there is no going back. There is no changing things. I will be forced to continue to deal with things as they come. I will handle them the best I can and try to find a way to make what I can out of things. This will not make it hurt any less. It will not make things right. They never will be.