Walking with You Series - Entry #3

Steps Back into Life

My first steps back into life were quite lonesome.  I had Tony and my grief counselor, but that's really it.  And as I think about it, I am still taking steps.

The first steps really involved myself and relate directly back to clinging in the pit.  I would say that my steps back into life and climbing out of the pit are one and the same journey.  It's funny, as I think about my steps, I literally think about my steps.  In the early days, I went for a quick 12 minute walk each morning when I got up, just to get me out of bed and get my heart pumping, to experience something other than my couch, to experience the outside world, literally.  Those walks progressed into evening walks with Tony and our dog, Desda.  They were a crucial part of my steps back into life.  It was a time for me to learn to enjoy the little things again, to spend some time with the one other person who knew exactly what I was going through.  It became an everyday ritual for us, like clockwork.  My anxiety levels would raise to unimaginable heights if we didn't go, so we went, no matter what.

In regards to the rest of the world, it's hard for me to go back to that place.  There is so much heartache and sadness that goes with that place.  "Normal" people have no idea how to deal with the idea of a child who has died so unexpectedly, one they were never able to hold.  And, because of that, it was like everyone was trying to bring my attention to other things, things that really had no meaning to me at the time.  I remember receiving texts from friends and family about random things they had just seen on a TV show, or what was going on with so and so and could I believe that?  I hated those texts and those communications.  I did not give a damn about those things.  My son just died and you want to tell me about how a show you just saw reminded me of...whatever.  I still don't care about those things that much, but I can at least incorporate them into conversations now.  I didn't care about small talk and if that is all someone wanted to do with me, then I couldn't be around them.  Small talk was beyond my abilities.  I have never been good at it to begin with, but it was impossible.  I stopped communicating with those who wanted to make small talk.  I cut myself off from them.  They weren't comfortable with Alfy, I wasn't comfortable with them. 

There were a rare few who would actually ask me about Alfy and my grief and those were the people I stayed in contact with.  If not for them, well, I'm not sure that I would have ever learned to communicate again.  They would ask about my grief, which is incredibly hard to talk about, but at least they asked.  They asked about Alfy, also incredibly hard to talk about at times, but they asked, and that was so important to me.  

I have found that balancing my new self with old friends to be incredibly challenging.  I think the loss of Alfy and my grief are just too hard for some people to deal with.  I try not to surround myself with those people.  At times, I have to, family obligation, but if I can help it, I make that choice.  And, there are a few times where I choose to be around people who have no idea what my grief and loss are like, almost like a small reprieve from my own reality.  I have a hard time saying that, I feel like I'm disrespecting my own son, but I've also decided that those individuals, while probably for the most part good, really aren't worthy of know Alfy or my grief.  I don't know if that makes any sense at all, but it's how I function right now.

I am still taking steps, sometimes small, sometimes leaps, sometimes forward, sometimes back.  I have by no means figured it out.  I'm still figuring out who is safe, who isn't, my own boundaries on what I will and will not share and with whom.  I'm still making that walk back into life.  It's a hard one, the hardest one there is I imagine.  

My biggest fear in this journey is that I will somehow let others forget, or let myself forget, Alfy and my grief.  I don't want to forget him, I just don't want it to be so hard all the time.  I also fear the people I will lose because they are unable to handle the hard that is now me.  "I have a son, his name is Alfy and I am a mother.  If you can not recognize that, then you don't deserve to be a part of my life.  I don't expect you to be comfortable with it, but I expect you to acknowledge it and at least try if you want to continue in my life."  I wish I could say that to everyone I know.  I've said it a few and I suppose I'll keep trying, at least with those I care about.  It's just hard knowing that some of those people will respond in the way you are dreading, unable to acknowledge Alfy, unable to acknowledge my grief and they will slowly disappear, some already have.  But, there are those who surprise you too, and I will hold on to those people tightly.

Like I said my steps are continuing, a little different each day.  We'll see what tomorrow's steps bring.