The problem with grieving is that it makes people uncomfortable. As you go through the process of trying to figure out how to live a life without the person lost, you inevitably change because your world has changed. Your old self is now gone and not only do you reflect on that “other person,” and even try to replicate who you were before death changed you, but you find it impossible. There is a void that can no longer be filled. You also start to find that others want, and seemingly expect, your old self to be present as well. When they can’t find you, that person they remember, a look comes to their eyes and most just move along. Having a real conversation about the agony of grieving is too much for them to bear, so they redirect the conversation to fit something more comfortable, more similar and uniformed.
Since my mother died, I have been asked the question, “How are you?” It is a difficult one to answer because there is something inside of me that finds it disrespectful to answer, “I’m good.” That is what most people want to hear because the words “How are you?” have become superficial and standard in our society. Not many really want to pause and wait for a true response. They either want to keep walking by as you offer a friendly nod and false response, or they just asked the question so they could move on to what they really want to talk about. It’s not that people do not care, I suppose, but more that they are busy carrying on their lives, hurrying towards whatever it is that is on their agenda. Agendas rule many lives, and I would bet, have ruined some. We hurry life like we hurry death, and conversations about death are not commonplace in our dialogue. They don’t offer any material or monetary gain for anyone.
Again, it is not that people are shallow for the most part, but empathy is not a common emotion or cognitive response. The emotion may not be shallow, but the thoughts are becoming so, which is why we like ten second videos and five second reads on social media. We like to scroll through life with a quick thumb.
After my mother died, I was often asked, “How are you?”
The best response I could give them was, “Okay.”
A few times I heard, “Just okay?” And the person would smile at me, looking for the happy go lucky guy they once knew.
During these times I struggle to change my response, so I give some truth, “Well, it’s difficult right now to be more than ‘okay’ because I am grieving.”
This usually halts the conversation or leads to a response, “It will get better.” It will? I find this interesting because it’s an easy way to move the feeling of the moment along. The words, “It will get better” or “Time heals” are simple ways to not make you feel comfortable but the person who you are talking with. It is similar if you decide to be vulnerable and share with someone that you are depressed. They usually try to offer encouragement that it will get better and “Just think happy thoughts.” We do not normalize talking about death anymore than we have normalized talking about mental health. Again, taking time for such talk does not have any material or monetary gain. It does not get the job done or fulfill a task.
I do understand the world does not stop for you to grieve. Most do not even know that you are grieving, just as most may not know you are struggling with anxiety or depression for instance. Our world is stressed out and there are more and more demands at work and for our time. Our day-to-day lives have become an out of control ferris wheel. We move fast everywhere we go. It could be rushing to the next meeting, speeding down the road to get your kids to the next event, or driving your shopping cart through the store as if the food that it holds is for a starving nation, and then we end up rushing towards retirement. How many times have you heard someone, in almost desperation, long for how many more years until they retire? I know people who have said that since they were in their thirties.
Then, there are cell phones, those little pocket computers, that have become the ultimate distraction, and many “How are yous?” are from the faces whose eyes are filled by the light of a screen from a small handheld device. It sometimes seems like we have forgotten the basics of true communication. We’re more worried about what someone posted that they had for dinner than to hear about how someone is really doing. If this seems like a pessimistic view of the world, be mindful of the conversations that you have throughout the day and night, and look for the distractions that interrupt real talk. Look for the people that actually listen to you and ask questions because they want to know how you really are instead of moving along to the next thing before you answer. I just think we can do better. Actually, we have to.
A week and a half after my mother died, I found myself back in the classroom, trying to teach, holding myself together the best I could, faking it as if I was okay. Again, I understand the need to keep the wheel rolling because there’s a job to get done. There is also the need to pay bills and bring home a paycheck. It is all the reality of life. However, the speed at which we are asked to grieve and carry on with life can make you dizzy because the plethora of emotions are coming to you all at once, and you are forced to subdue your sadness. Therefore, you fake it all day. It is exhausting. The world wants you to produce something. It wants you to socialize and smile and act like you don’t hurt. It wants you to place your emotions in a sealed box and move on. If you do share how you really feel, then you become someone they either worry about or think you are not being “strong.” Oh, how many times have I heard the phrase, “Be strong.” I understand being strong. Strong is holding your mother’s hand when she is looking at you with pleading eyes through a death rattle that doesn’t allow her to speak and you cannot do anything to help her, so you tell her you love her and hope she dies soon so she no longer suffers. It’s trying to find the reason why your best friend put a bullet in his head, or another friend who decided to pull a knife on the cops and get killed. It’s watching your sister seemingly be okay one moment and the next you're watching a monitor as her blood pressure falls like slow rain, and she takes her last breath. It is seeing your wife cry when her father dies, someone you loved too, and knowing you can only hold her because you are helpless to save him. It’s standing up and reading his eulogy in front of a service and telling a story about a time he came to you when you were immersed in darkness and took you for a walk and talk that may have changed the trajectory that you were on. That is strength. It is lifting yourself up and walking into a classroom to deliver the best lessons you can, even though thirty minutes earlier you broke down in tears from grieving, but you know your students deserve your absolute best. Be strong? Yes, I think I have that covered.
When people tell you to “Be strong” they want to stop you telling them anything further. Those words put a halt to your true emotions because it places the stigma on being sad, depressed, anxious, or your grief. It tells you that what you are sharing is not being strong, and so you must be weak. Perhaps, they do not mean this but that is the way it is portrayed. Our words mean a lot, which many understand, which is why they often become uncomfortable and have no idea what to say, so silence is best.
The dialogue needs to change in our society. Being vulnerable, sharing your true emotions, showing compassion and empathy, and taking time to listen to others should be our definition of strength. Learning to cope and build resilience, and to care enough about yourself that the terms “Self-care” are a part of your daily vocabulary is strong. We hear that term “self-care” in our jobs, but do we really allow time to practice it? It’s a false narrative that allows more demands to be placed on your back. If you are practicing self-care, well then, you should not be so stressed by the amount of responsibilities that you have. If you become stressed, depressed, anxious, then you must not be taking care of yourself. It’s as if you are blamed for your own mental health or grief. Places of work offer wellness time, so why are you feeling so drained and out of sorts? Shouldn’t that time take care of all of your problems? If you cannot pull yourself up and move on, you are to blame for not caring for yourself. The stigmas roll like a train on rusty tracks.
All I am saying is that we need to slow down a little. Our world is boiling over, which is keeping the doctor busy and the pill machine working over time. We have forgot to stop and care for one another.
I taught a lesson recently to my students and told them about six words: How are you and Are you okay? I told them the key is to wait for a response from the first set of words and then be prepared to follow up with the second set. I then told them that we do not always need to be okay. That places a lot of pressure on us. None of us are always okay. It is okay to not be okay. It is okay to have depression, anxiety, and it is okay to grieve. It’s okay to feel.
There will come a time when you will leave your work and you will be replaced by the next gerbil on the wheel. It will happen quickly because it has to. Yes, we all have a responsibility in keeping our society running and work is important, but when you are one day holding your loved one’s hand, trying to communicate through the overwhelming sound of a death rattle, and wait for your last exhale to come, you will not be thinking you wished you would have made more money or didn’t miss that oh so important staff meeting that didn’t accomplish anything. You won’t be thinking of the car you drove or how much you will miss taking pictures of your food and posting it on Instagram. You won’t be thinking of how you wish you would have complained to your friend how much the price of eggs are. You will not be proud of all of the times you were negative about someone or a situation in which you had absolutely no control over. I believe you will be surrounded by the people you had an impact on. You will have those people surrounding you that you once asked, “How are you?” and then waited for a real response, and those people who you took the time to see if they were okay and were there for them. Even if they are not at your bedside, they will most likely remember how you made them feel and perhaps shed a tear for the kindness you once offered them.
I believe we need to allow others to be human. We need to allow them the time to have emotion and show empathy, realizing that we usually have no idea what someone else is going through. Our demands are probably not their priority, even though we want them to be. We want people to prioritize what we think is important. We need to allow people to cry and be silent and then to be heard. We need to understand that events will happen to people, and ourselves, in this lifetime, that supersede anything of a superficial nature, and that allowing grace is crucial. Perhaps, if everyone approached everyone else with understanding and compassion, it would increase loyalty, which in return will increase their productivity at work and make relationships withstand the test of time.
How am I? Well, I am trying to find time to grieve when the world wants to press the air from my lungs. I am figuring out how to live a life without my mother. I am attempting to understand a society that I feel is becoming detached from itself and its humanity, and searching for my place and purpose within it. For my sanity, I have to return to the questions, What is in my control? What is within my influence? Perhaps, it is me stopping and waiting for an honest response from people when I ask, “How are you?” and then showing them empathy and kindness.

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