I Grieve. Or I Am A Rock. Take Your Pick.

 Two weeks ago, my brother-in-law died.

Yesterday was the anniversary of my daughter’s boyfriend’s death.

Today, my aunt died.

It’s been a rough few weeks. To make matters worse, my aunt wasn’t doing well for the past week or so and I had no idea. She lives over 2000 miles away and we kept in touch through emails and holiday cards. My parents knew. But chose not to tell me. (Dysfunction is alive and well in my family.) I already live with the regret of my last visit with my grandmother. And while I feel good about how I maintained my relationship with my aunt, it bothers me in this moment that I didn’t get the chance to talk to her one more time. If I had known she wasn’t doing well, I would have called her. She’s not the type to email me and tell me she’s suffering. And I had no idea.

“I grieve for you
You leave me
Let it out and move on
Missing what’s gone
They say life carries on
They say life carries on and on and on” – The grief in me misses the relatives and friends who have passed. This part of life sucks. Losing people. Good people. People who are loving, kind, fill you with joy. And because I’m getting older I’m in for more loss. How do you reconcile that? How to adjust? We carry on. But with more lonely moments than before.
“I’ve built walls,
A fortress deep and mighty,
That none may penetrate.
I have no need of friendship; friendship causes pain.
It’s laughter and it’s loving I disdain.
I am a rock,
I am an island
And a rock feels no pain;
And an island never cries.” – Anger. At my parents for cutting me off like this. Punishing me for not playing by their rules. Anger at the loss I’ve experienced and the more to come. I will get through this. But for now I want to be an island. I want to never cry. I want to feel no pain.


Take your pick.


Filed under family, friends, Music, Relating

36 responses to “I Grieve. Or I Am A Rock. Take Your Pick.

  1. Oh, Jane…I’m so sorry you’re having to deal with this all at once! My advice is to reach out to people who care about you, and take whatever comfort you can from them. I’m sure I speak for all your “blogging sisters” when I say that includes us as well…


  2. Holy guacamole, sweetie. That’s a lot of stuff to deal with. Here I am freaking out about Twinkle the hamster and you have real loss kicking you in the teeth.

    I’m so sorry for all that you’ve had to carry. I think you are a rock. Not The Rock–he’s a shitty actor and that Tooth Fairy movie was absolute drek–but a rock. Solid. I’m here if you need me.

  3. ((((hugs))))

    Your tremendous strength comes through in your blog posts. But remember that we’re all here (completely judgement-free) if you need to let it all out.

    • Thanks for the judgement-free comment. I hope people know that when I (or any of us, really) write my posts I’m revealing what I’m feeling in that moment. I wrote this post last night. And this morning, the anger has subsided. Now it’s just sadness for loss – of people and relationships. And, in time, I’ll get over that, too.

  4. I’m so sorry that you’re in the midst of all of this sadness, Jane. Don’t lose yourself on that island. Thinking of you and your family~

  5. I love my blogging buddies. Thanks to all of you for your love and support.

  6. I’m sorry for the pain that you are feeling on so many levels. I can imagine how it hurts, and I would encourage you in both: to grieve and to be a rock. And whatever else you need, for you. I’m here – in cyberspace, but here.
    Sunshine x

  7. Remember when I wrote how thankful I was for the opportunity to get to know you better through your personal posts? I meant it. It is because of those posts that you are no longer a stranger. My heart aches in compassion with your pain and loss.

  8. Jane, I am very sorry for your loss. I understand how it feels to not having the chance to say one last goodbye. But you must remember that you have brought much joy to your aunt and though it is hard right at this moment, keep her memories alive with the happy and inspirational moments. {{{hugs}}}}

  9. Wenchy

    I cry with you.

  10. Jayne

    Oh so sorry Jane. Losing loved ones is painful and as each new loss happens I realise that the pain has not really gone away, it just compounds what is already there. To lose two people that were dear to you in such a short space of time and at such a significant time of the year is hard to bear. Sending hugs and thinking of you …

  11. I’m so sorry for your loss.

  12. Penny

    Lots of hugs and thoughts your way, Jane. Love you.

  13. Oh, friend, I’m so sorry to hear the news about your aunt, and the ways in which it’s intersected with other losses and other family complications. Sending you all the peaceful thoughts I can squeeze through the screen. xo

  14. Steven Harris

    Much love and hoping you find the strength you need inside to steer through these troubled waters/ (or build a Simon-eqsue bridge?) x

  15. I am so sorry. You really have been hit in these past weeks. A rock or an island or both – it’s all a bit much. Sending hugs.

  16. You will endure, you will survive, you will grieve and regret, you will be grateful for the good memories. You’ll realize parents are people, for better or worse. We don’t have to like them. In the meantime, know that a lot of people are with you in their hearts, surrounding you with their love and hugs.

  17. You won’t get over it…you will just learn how to live with it..the grief anyway. You have a lot to deal with right now but it is possible to be a rock while you grieve. Or neither. It’s OK to be whatever strikes you in a moment. And to move back and forth.

    I’m so sorry that you won’t get to talk with your aunt one more time. I hope you talk to her in your heart, because she’ll be listening.

    As are we.

  18. Wow. I am so very sorry to hear about your many losses. Many many hugs sent your way.

  19. I am so sorry. Life has been coming at you to hard and to fast. It sucks.
    During these kind of times I pretend I have the flu. I sleep lots, I let myself sink into the depths of despair. I use to worry that I would keep sinking but eventually I would start to rise, begin to float, and feel a little better and a little better led to pretty good….don’t know if it will work for you but its a thought…..

  20. I’m so sorry, Jane. I understand isolation, how it can hurt (when it’s you being excluded), and how it can protect (when we choose to become islands). I hope that the people you do have near you are as comforting to you as they can be in moments of loss like this one.

  21. Again. Your words of encouragement and support mean more than I can express with mere words. I hope you feel the love – right back at ya’. Because I’m sending it – with every fiber of my being. Thank you, all!

  22. to grieve or to be a rock. either, and both. whichever you are feeling at the moment. i’ve been going through the process for six months now, and i see in retrospect that it is a process … not linear, not logical, but soul and emotion at their most raw. waves of pain crashing when you least expect it, pools of memories and regrets and tears and laughter will overtake and overwhelm, at times. you are standing, you are strong. give yourself the love you need right now, rest when you are able, and know you will get back to you, ~ maybe not the same, but in some ways, at some moments, life will be richer.

  23. I have no words of wisdom, except to say that you will be in my thoughts in the coming days.

  24. It’s not very nice of me to say so, but I’d really like to sucker-punch your parents in the stomach. I can’t believe they kept this from you. I’m so sorry for your loss, and that the way it was delivered only rubbed salt in the wound of your family struggles. My thoughts are with you today. xoxo.

  25. Wow. When it rains it pours. So sorry, so sad, so frustrated for you. ….and it is ok to grieve and be a rock at the same time. *hugs*

  26. Hugs and peace to you. 😦


  27. Oh I’m so sorry Jane. You sure have been going through a bad patch.

  28. They say things come in threes. In this case let us hope so. That is too much in too short a period of time. Those conversations that never happened can be rough. Best wishes to you!

  29. I am sorry for your losses .. I don’t know why, but it seems that after you have been hit with one thing, other things have to join in and hit you again. Try to dwell on the good times and you will survive. Sometimes those last moments we rush to spend with someone when we know they are dying are not as good as the last moments we spent with them when they were very much alive (remember those).

  30. Oh, Jane, I’m sorry. It’s hard to lose people you care about, and it’s harder when family dysfunction keeps you from what little time you have left. I understand the wanting to be alone. A part of me will always want to be an island… separated and protected from all that will hurt. Sending my cyber-hugs and real-prayers.

  31. Jane: I am so so sorry for your losses. It cuts to the core. I am sending you peace and hugs. xoxo

  32. ck

    I’m so sorry, Jane.

    But at the core of it, your children are so very blessed that you have chosen to break the cycle of dysfunction. That you let them into your life. That you support theirs. That the hurt and anguish you’re grieving over stops with you. ((hugs))

  33. I think we are all products of dysfunction.

    Warm thoughts.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s